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NEDDIE FOUND THE newspaper in the bases The headline came at him fast and hard, like a sucker punch

Stealth Killer Stalks Our City

Was that him?

He snatched up the paper and read the story fast The victient, the woman he’d stuck outside the hotel There was a photo of her and her husband and quotes from the doorman, and—No-no-no-no-no—law enforcement had found the vial of sux He must have fumbled it when he tried to put it back into his pocket

The paper shook and rattled in Neddie’s hands as he skie of the article Had there been a witness? Had he been seen? He found nothing but the tords describing what he’d done: Stealth Killer

He liked the name It sounded epic It sounded like a hini Oh, ht was, he was also afraid Over all this tiht get it

Was he ready to pay?

“Cool it, Neddie,” he said to himself “Cool your jets”

He put the newspaper back precisely where he’d found it He thought of the two cops questioning hi, and noith this newspaper story, that arning number two

Should he stay or should he go?

If he played it safe, if he didn’t overreact, he could have a beautiful night flight

He unlocked and opened the ainst it, and considered his options

Over the past thirty years he had mapped a threedimensional schematic of San Francisco in hison the Loony Bin above- and belowground He knew every rusted lock and basement door, every alley and poorly lit path—and then he knehere he would go

He saw the place in hisviews of Saints Peter and Paul Church, the roarounds No one ever looked at him in the park He was invisible there He was free

The night was a pleasant sixty-two degrees