Tyler stood outside the window of the electrical shop and gazed at the fourteen television screens broadcasting the images of Daniella Smith’s face. They were calling it a brutal stabbing. Tyler liked that. Brutal was a nice word. It made him feel good about what he did.
The police officer on screen was appealing for anyone with information to come forward and aid the investigation. Tyler had information, information which could solve this case in minutes. But he was not going to tell. No. It was much too fun for it to end so soon. There was more blood to be shed, more people to be made pay.
“It’s horrible isn’t it?” a quiet voice said to his right. Tyler glanced over at the petite girl standing there. She had shoulder length red hair and appeared to be around seventeen years old. She was dressed in rather skimpy clothing; a mini skirt combined with a top which stopped quite a bit short of her waist. “How can someone be this sick. Who would want to do this?”
Tyler would want to, had wanted to, and still wanted to do it. He liked the word she had used to describe him. Sick. People thought he was sick, for making them pay. No. They were the sick ones.
“I don’t know, it’s disgusting”. The girl glanced at him. he extended his hand, “I’m Tyler”. She shook his hand, her small hand enveloped in his own.
“That’s a beautiful name. Would you care to join me for lunch, Emily?” Tyler watched the girls eyes as she pondered his question.
“I would love to, but I have to go meet my friend Jenna now. Tomorrow maybe? Here’s my number”.
Tyler took the scrap of paper and gladly agreed to lunch the following day. He watched Emily walk away and then began to follow her. He wanted to see who this Jenna person was that was stealing Emily from him. No one took people from him. He took people from them.