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aching
neck as I begin to undress, pulling off my pants and shirt and
unfolding a fresh outfit from a compartment in the trunk. I stand
there for a moment on the side of the road, dressed only in my
underwear, and let the sun's rays soak into me. They sink into my
skin, warming me to my bones as I stretch off my back and neck.
    I hear a horn blare loudly and
the shrieks of women fill the air as a car drives past. It slows down
as it goes by and I see several flashes as its occupants take
pictures. When I raise my head I offer a smile and the girls laugh
and shriek louder. They're all wearing silly outfits and hats and, a
soon as the car passes, I can see why.
    “ Sam's Bachelorette” reads a
banner on the back, colored in pink and purple and with funny
cartoons of male strippers in the corners. I guess I gave them an
early preview.
    The car picks up speed and
whizzes off into the distance as I turn my eyes up and down the road.
It's still early, and there's no one else in sight.
    I drop my underwear and step out
of them, feeling the light morning breeze rush over my naked body.
It's particularly fresh after a heavy storm. Then I dress in new
clothes: black pants and a white shirt. It's a simple look, one I've
gotten used to.
    It's eerily calm as I walk round
the side of the car and step back into the driver's seat. There's not
a whiff of wind in the air, not a sound of a car, or of someone
talking, or a bird singing anywhere nearby.
    The engine roars to life when I
turn the key, breaking the silence. It rumbles angrily as I begin to
cruise off down the road, my eyes set firm on my target: Kitty
Munroe. And now, I know just where she is. Rick has seen to that.
    He's an old friend, Rick. We met
back in school and were friends for years before I left and joined
the army. Whenever I came back from any tour of duty, I'd always hang
out with him first out of all my friends. He was one of the only ones
who stood by me when it all went to shit, when my life got crushed
before my eyes. He knows what I do now. He knows what I am. But
still, he doesn't judge. He even helps me sometimes, even though it
could mean the end of his career.
    But then, he has no choice. It's
his moral responsibility that keeps him from telling me 'no' when I
ask for a favor. He's a detective, and can help me get information
about any person I'm trying to track down. Why does he do it? Because
he owes me. Because he told me he'd keep them safe. He told me he'd
catch the guy who'd done it. But he never did. And now, now he's
racked with guilt. Now, whenever I need him to trace a cell phone
signal or run a check for a credit card, he does it, no questions
asked.
    Sophie. Ellie.
    The names rock around in my head
every day, without fail. They're there when I wake, they're there
when I'm drifting off to sleep. I don't think they'll ever leave me.
They'll haunt me for the rest of my life. And I want them to. It's
all I cling to: it's why I do what I do. And one day, one day I'll
find the man who did it. One day I'll do what Rick couldn't. And when
I do, he'll be begging for death before the end.
    I drive for an hour before I
begin to slow, feeling my way through the town of Bakersfield. It's
quiet still on this early Sunday morning, the homes I pass yet to
wake and come to life. I round a corner and make my way up a long
street with large houses nicely spaced on either side. There's a
small-town leafiness to it, the bright morning sunshine making the
area look idyllic: somewhere anyone would love to live.
    As I keep moving, the morning
calm is suddenly broken. Up ahead I see flashing lights and a hive of
activity. Cops cars are gathered outside a house, an ambulance parked
between them. Its back doors are open wide and two bodies are being
stretchered inside. I roll up slowly and a cop comes rushing forward
towards me, signaling me to roll down my window.
    “ Sorry Sir, you're going to
have to take another route.”
    I poke my head out of the window
and up the