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the woman’s face; it was lowered and shrouded by the large dark hood.  There was something about the voice though.  He had heard that measured cadence of speech before.  Keep talking, I’ll place you.

“I’m going to lower the gun now and trust the two of you will behave.  If you don’t, it only takes two seconds to lift it again and bang, her head’s gone!”

Hazel let out a sigh as the pressure of the gun on her head disappeared.

“We’re going to take a little ride to Point Pleasant Park.  I expect you to drive without raising the concern of any police in patrol cars or the good citizens of Halifax.”

Roger nodded.  He knew the importance of silence and hoped Hazel would follow his lead.  He looked at the line of cars in front of him.  If they took their time in moving, it might take them a half an hour to reach the park. He needed to buy time.  Ten minutes later, he drove past the Citadel, down the hill towards Barrington, and his heart leapt at the sight of all the cars.  I’m not sure why the traffic is so bad, but I could kiss every one of the bumpers ahead of me. 

“Theatre goers.  Thought they would be home long ago now but I guess drinks and conversation are de rigueur after the play”, the woman said.  “And a very successful opening night it was too.  Should have been there to see it you two, but then again, I’m glad you weren’t.  Wouldn’t have had the pleasure of your company right now, would I?”

The theatre, of course, that’s it.  That’s where I heard your voice.  I know who you are now. Stay cool, he told himself, don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing fear.  It took him ten minutes to go twenty feet.  Good, very good.

He glanced over at Hazel who sat quietly staring straight ahead at the line of cars.  Love you girl, you’re a smart, savvy woman.  He made a promise to himself that he would try to get her out of this somehow.  He tried not to think about what lay in store for the two of them in the park.

The killer had obviously given a lot of thought as to where she would do the deed.  No better place than the park, especially this time of night.  Dark, heavily wooded, isolated. The patrol car runs through twice at night, usually between 10:00pm and 7:00am, and one would have made its rounds already.

The movie, The Onion Field, a true story about two cops who were cruelly executed flashed in his mind.  Best not to go there.  A sound interrupted his thoughts.  It took him a few minutes to realize the killer was drumming fingers on the back leather seat.  It’s time to start a conversation and keep her occupied.  It will bring her stress level down.

“Got a question for you?”

“And what would that be Roger?”

“What have I done to piss you off? Why do you have it in for me?”

“You know, I first saw you at the theatre the night Jeffrey left this cruel world, I knew you were an intelligent man; it was in your face, the way you handled yourself, your eyes missing nothing.  Except one thing – the resemblance, you never picked it up, did you?  You don’t even get it now, do you?”

He could hear her voice rising in anger.  Not a place he wanted her to be.  He thought fast and hard as he moved through the next set of lights.  The bottle neck was beginning to ease.  I owe you such an apology Kate.  I only hope I live to give it.

“It was your daughter I drove home that night, wasn’t it Eleanor.  She was into the drugs wasn’t she?”

“You’re lying.  I know the difference.  Sybil told me how you treated her.  You got her high on drugs, raped her and walked her up to the front door, whispering threats in her ear.  I saw you.”

Good God, the daughter must have been as crazy as the mother.

“She killed herself you know.  Drove her car over the cliff, it was no accident.  I found the note she left behind. I didn’t share it with the authorities who investigated the accident or her father. Donald’s a useless bastard, good for bringing money in, that was it.  He never spent any time with Sybil.  It was left to me, the same as everything else.  I protected her good name and I made a vow I to revenge her death.  I took my time, two years, planned carefully.  You’re the last one to go Roger.”

“I’m sorry, Eleanor.  Losing a daughter must have been very painful.”

“Don’t waste your breath patronizing me, and don’t think she committed suicide over a loser like you, no, what you did was put the first notch in her despair that led her to hurtle off that cliff.”

Roger drove through the last set of lights and turned onto the street that led to the park.  There were fewer street lights now to penetrate the darkness.  He looked over at Hazel.  She extended her hand and gave his thigh a squeeze.  Then he heard the sound of drumming fingers resumed.

“Why did Jeffrey have to die, Eleanor?”

“Jeffrey.  The male slut seduced Sybil. She was only 16 years old, and he was 55.  You bruised her heart; he broke it.  She was carrying his little bastard.  I knew she was pregnant, running to the bathroom in the morning, missing school because she was sick.  Her father behaved like an old woman, pacing and pleading with her to go for tests to find out why she was so sick.  Stupid man, he never could see anything past the profit sign.  I arranged for the abortion.”

“And Catherine, why did she have to die?”

“She knew Jeffrey seduced

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