Revenge is Sweet

Chapter Two Vanessa

"Order up" Chef hollers from behind the counter and I sigh.

I move as fast as possible in the quiet, but full café to grab table fives order. I scoop up the three plates with quiet concentration. I'm having to focus harder than usual today, last night was... rough. The mess I made, dear lord, not my best work.
And, even better, today was the fifth anniversary of Cynthia Rose's death and I was a mess. But, right now my only job was to make it to the table with these plates, put on a winning smile and move on with my day. I set the plates down and smile, waiting to make sure they're satisfied before hurrying off again.

I check the clock over the counter and see its lunch time. I put my apron on its hook, and order something to eat. Today I'll eat grilled cheese with milk. It was my daughter's favorite, until Fouryears ago. As I feel the tears pool in my eyes, I wipe them, before they can fall. God, I cannot cry here, keep it together Vanessa. I sigh, and sit down with my lunch, quietly and unnoticed. Love this café but sometimes I wish I hadn't settled down so quickly in this tiny town where everyone knows everyone. It is nice though, to feel accepted. Not that anyone here really knows me. I shake my head clearing these
dangerous thoughts. I need to get through my shift, and I can't focus on anything else until I'm off.

Detective Tamera had walked into the cafe looking like someone was stealing her piece by piece. I knew what it was, but it wasn't something I was willing to discuss with her. And yet somehow I ended up at her table. Talking wasn't earning me any darn money.

I sigh, and stand, leaving the table. I shake my head, Tamera and her silly questions. But I couldn't help answering them, even when it was likely to doom me. She was... irresistible. With her curly, unruly hair that was a different color by the month, her petite frame with perfect curves and her beautiful brown eyes that just stared at me like pools of intelligent chocolate, which sounds stupid I know.

However, now Cynthia was all I could think about. Ugh, I needed to go home. I went into the back and put my apron back on its hook and told the cook I was heading home. I left, feeling so sad and alone. There were very few things that would make me feel better today, but I knew just what to do.

I followed the familiar path to the house and went in the back door. I set down my purse and keys and threw my shoes onto the floor by the door.

I needed to change into much more inconspicuous clothing and some comfy shoes. I was going hunting. I already had my newest target and I needed to get some more info on her before I made my move.

God, I couldn't believe Tamera had asked me such important questions like they were casual, like I couldn't tell she was genuinely needing the answers. I should probably have lied about the name of my daughter, because if she realized the connection between the initials and the calling card left at the scene of each death, I'd be screwed.

Once I'd changed, and was posted outside of the house of my newest victim Toralee Hill, I started to think about what I knew of her. She had inherited everything when Mr. Hill had passed away three months ago, and she had quickly made herself well known. But her wealth made her incredibly greedy, and consequently she had made many enemies. And one particularly deep pocketed enemy of Mrs. Hill had approached me and asked me, in no uncertain terms, to get rid of her. Permanently. And I was happy to oblige, for the right price, of course.

God, the money I'd gotten for Jasper had been extravagant. Plus, the satisfaction I had gotten in killing that cheating piece of crap was well worth it. But that did not mean it had been right. I won't deny, it had felt right, but I am sure Mr. King would disagree.

I shook my head clearing it as I leaned back into my seat in my flashy BMW 3M convertible. I loved this car, but not nearly as much as my truck. I had a beautiful 1963 Chevy pick-up, and I loved it, but the black M3 blended in better on this side of town. I stared at the huge house across the street and contemplated how I'd get in this time. Jasper's secretaries' house had been too easy, where-as victim 4 Eden Fleury had been a bit more difficult. Toralee's house wasn't guarded, but it had a constant flow of people in and out, which complicated things.

Ah, there she is. Toralee Hill, screaming at a gardener, about a topiary shaped like a... penguin? Okay, that is a bit odd, but not something to scream about. I shake my head, unbelievable. This woman is insane, I think with a laugh. It's just a penguin, not freaking Hitler. I start the car, deciding its time to go home and get ready for tonight. Party time.

I walk into the main room of my mansion about an hour away from Bronston, which no one there knows exists. And for good reason, for gods' sake the whole town thinks I'm a broke waitress who lives in a tiny one-room apartment alone. They would probably have a heart attack if they saw the house I own on the street I bought three years ago.

The house is packed tonight and I'm sure one of my bitchy neighbors will call the cops, but they won't come. I throw a party like this twice a month, it's a good place to meet potential clients and get paid from past ones.

Plus, it's a great excuse to dress nice. But this isn't one of my stupid parties just to party, this is a distraction. I spy her as she walks in, surrounded by her current group of wealthy ass-kissing weasels. Toralee Hill, who had been invited to one of the nicest parties she had ever attended and had jumped at what she assumed was an acknowledgement of her new-found status.

In reality, it just meant I knew where she was while I snuck into her house and got the lay-out. She'd be dead by morning, I didn't have time to mess around, I was a very busy little hit woman. I did feel a tiny bit bad about how much stress this newest body would put on Tamera. But I had to make money, and plus the murders made me feel better. God knew I could use something to feel better today.

I pull up in front of Hill estates in my nondescript silver Volvo. Another one of my favorite cars, a beauty to drive. I sit outside for a minute and let my thoughts wander. I thought about what Cynthia must think of me now, but she might understand. After all, her dad had been my first kill. Luckily for him, it was quick. Too quick, that bastard deserved to die as slowly and painfully as my baby had.

He had caused her death, he deserved so much worse than the bullet to the chest I'd given him in his office at his law firm. I inherited the law firm when he passed, but I sold it quickly. I had no need for the piece of shits company. Plus, it was worth more cash than anything it would have brought in, and now I made triple that in one job. I shake my head again, and my mind changes directions, back to the night four years ago today. I can still picture the scene like a movie.

I was sitting at home, Cynthia and Ross had gone out to ice cream. He came rushing in only about 40 minutes after they'd left, sobbing and with blood spread across the front of his shirt. He said Cynthia Rose had gone to the hospital, and we needed to hurry and get there. He wouldn't tell me what had happened, he wasn't making sense. He was in shock. I drove, we rushed, I almost got in multiple wrecks. When we arrived Ross was hysterical, and I wasn't much better. Someone needed to get me my baby before I lost it. Finally a nurse came and led us to a room. There she was, on a breathing machine, with tubes everywhere. A doctor explained they'd attempted surgery, but it had been unsuccessful. She had maybe an hour, and she was as comfortable as can be. I could let her go, now and put her out of her pain or I could wait an hour or so. Either way she had no chance of making it through the night. I started sobbing, that was my baby, my little girl. I didn't understand how this happened. The doctor said the bullet had gone through her heart, there was nothing they could do. I needed to say goodbye, and so did Ross. To my baby, I had to let her go. I sat down by her side and cried for what felt like hours, and then Ross was there holding me, and sobbing. About 40 minutes later, a doctor said it was time. I refused to look away as they unhooked my princess from all of the machines keeping my baby alive. Forcing her body to live, after it had stopped trying. I watched as she took a last breath, I heard her last heartbeat beep out, and stop. Gone.

A small noise pulls me out of my reverie. Someone else exits the house in front of me. God, that night. I was so confused, so sad, so lost. I wiped the tears streaking down my face on the back of my hand and glanced at the house.

Finally, all of the lights were off. Go time. I slipped out of my car, and up to the side window of the estate. I quietly pushed it open and slipped in. I searched the house top-to-bottom and settled in to wait. My usual kit was by my feet as I sat in a nice chair by the fire and read a book I'd taken off Mrs. Hill's shelf. Now we wait.