“Now you don’t have to panic,” he says soothingly, even before the radio newscaster has stopped speaking. “There is no need for you to be hurt.”
She grips the wheel and says nothing – stares straight ahead and wonders at the improbability of it all.
“Why don’t you pull over for a minute? Take a breath. Get a grip. I don’t have to tell you not to do anything stupid, like running away.” He smiles as she eases the car onto the bank. “Good. That’s it.”
She turns off the engine and folds her hands in her lap.
“Are you a religious woman?” he fingers the cross at her neck, brushing her skin. “Think of this as a test of faith.” She shudders slightly. “Was this trite?” he laughs. “I suppose it was.”
Still she says nothing.
His manner is cool, his voice gentle. He doesn’t want to scare the lamb. He even feels affection for it. To show this, he puts his lips close to her ear, to whisper: “It was very kind of you to stop to help me.” She flinches and moves her head away. He pulls back abruptly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he realizes. “How very typical of a serial killer.
-excerpt from “The Good Samaritan”