Page 2 of The Vigilante's Heart

“Thank you, Lucy, send them in.” I mentally put Barclay to the back of my mind. I’ll focus on him again this evening.

***

“You little fucker,” I mutter to myself, as Barclay pulls out of his underground garage in a car that is not his. At least it’s not the one registered to him.

I pull away from the curb and follow him at a distance, silently cursing myself for not doing this sooner. I knew it didn’t seem right that he wasn’t on the move, that he wasn’t escalating, but I didn’t fucking do anything. I can only pray that he hasn’t gotten to someone while I was pussyfooting around.

I follow him out to the suburbs where he drives slowly through the quiet area, finally stopping on a tree-lined street. Putting my car in park, I watch and wait. It doesn’t take long for the little shit to exit his car and I feel a modicum of relief when I see he isn’t carrying anything — no backpack, no tools at all. I still follow him, though, not trustinghim to not act in the moment. He makes his way around the back of a duplex, keeping himself hidden in the trees that line the back of the property and lead into the woods. It’s a nice property in a great area, it’s quiet, private, something that would appeal to buyers, but it’s a fucking nightmare for security. There are too many places to hide, and it’s far too easy to access all sides of the building.

Barclay has paused, his body hidden behind a tree, his gaze focused on the large second floor window. There’s nothing to see at the moment, the lights are off, but I know he’s waiting for something, so I do the same.

I’ve been staring at him for about an hour, when the sound of a car pulling into a drive gets my attention. From the sound of where the noise is coming from, I’d say it’s a good probability that the resident we’ve been waiting for is home, and judging by the way Barclay’s body has tightened with excitement just confirms it. Seconds later a light flicks on, illuminating the first few feet of the backyard, but not quite reaching the tree line where we’re both hidden. My eyes move to the window, noting movement, but they quickly dart back to Barclay, it’s him my focus is on.

Oh yeah. Whoever is in there is next, he’s chosen his next victim, and as a result, I’ve chosen mine.

***

It was late when I got back to my penthouse in the city last night, I couldn’t leave with Barclay still there, and the creep stayed long after she’d pulled the blinds down. I thought I was going to have to act whenhe went to the front door, but he only slipped something under it, I just wish I knew what it was.

I need more evidence before I commit to this one, there’s no coming back from what I do to them so I have to be totally sure before I proceed. I need to get inside his house, see if I can find something from a previous victim, they always keep some sort of trophy. I also need to find out who his newest target is, I cannot let him get to her.

Owning a successful global security firm has its perks. Being able to access the city's CCTV and security is essential to my extracurricular activities.

Accessing one of the many systems my company uses, I input the address from last night, within seconds one of my computer screens is filled with information about a Peyton Lawson, I make a mental note of her only being twenty-six. I skim through the details looking for what I need and am shocked when I find it. A first year ER resident. It’s not that I don’t think Peyton should be a resident at the city's hospital, it’s that this is not Barclay’s M.O. He doesn’t go for strong, intellectual, independent women, and everything I’m reading about Peyton suggests that’s exactly what she is. I scroll down looking for what it is that made him pick her, finally seeing it when I get to her picture.

Christ!I click on her image, enlarging it on my screen and stare at the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Long curly blonde hair frames a petite face with high cheekbones, a button nose, soft pillowy pink lips and the bluest eyes to possibly exist. She’s a grown-up version of a fucking cherubic angel. My dead heart, that I’d long since given up on, beats at the sight of her. I flag her on my system so if any reports or alerts are raised with regards to her, I’ll get a personal alert to all of my devices.

I’m sitting in my conference room listening to my finance team drone on about this year’s forecasts, but I can’t focus on them, I can’t focus on anything. The picture of Peyton is ingrained on my eyelids. She’s all I can think about, and I don’t understand why. I’ve never had a reaction to a target before, no one has ever piqued my interest. My phone pings on the table in front of me and an alert pops up telling me a report involving Peyton has been logged at the police station.

“Excuse me, I need to deal with this. Send me the rest of the report,” I mutter as I head out of the doors and straight to my office; it’s rude of me, but right now I don’t care. Within minutes I’m in front of my computer screen and reading through the information logged at the station.

That little fucker! How dare he!Nobody scares her, nobody threatens her, she’s too goddamned perfect for anything to tarnish her.

At least I know what he slipped under her door now. The thought of her finding that this morning, of her being alone and scared, fills my blood with a fury of which I’ve not felt in years, not since Rebecca.

I look back through Peyton’s information and see that she has the next two days off due to her shift pattern. Hoping she stays local when she’s off work, I decide to head to her little, sleepy suburban town.

I didn’t really get to see much last night; one, it was dark and two, my focus was on Barclay. However, walking through the quaint town with shops facing the coastline, I have to say it is idyllic. How have I never been here before? I can see why Peyton stayed when her mother died. Yes, I may have read every detail on her personal file, and yes, I am aware that I am moving into stalking territory. Even more so, seeing as I am currently sitting at the local coffee shop I know she likes to frequent on her days off. Her credit card statement has multiple purchases here. But let’s be honest; I kill people. Slowly and painfully. Stalking awoman who has finally got my attention beyond just wanting to fuck her is not exactly crossing a line for me.

Peyton

I have that feeling of being watched again, but it’s different this time. It doesn’t feel menacing. I glance around my favorite coffee shop from my spot in the queue. I can’t see anyone looking at me, not anything more than a cursory glance anyway.

“You okay, Peyton?” Sandra’s voice calls from the counter. I’d been so busy looking around me, I didn’t notice I was next in line.

“Sorry, Sandra, lost in my own world there.” I walk the few steps towards her.

“No worries, sweetie. You want your usual or fancy a special surprise today?” Sandra likes to mix up her recipes and seeing as she’s known me most of my life — both of us born and raised in this little slice of paradise — I’m the one she likes to experiment on.

“Surprise me,” I say.

“Find a seat and I’ll bring it over.” As usual the place is booming, but I manage to find a little table tucked away in the corner. That prickle of awareness follows me to my seat.

I went to the police station this morning, there was no way I wasn’t taking it further after finding the note. It confirmed that my suspicions of being watched were, in fact, true. I haven’t spoken to anyone I know about it yet, I’m not entirely sure how to go about telling people. I’m meeting my best friend tonight, who I won’t be able to get through the night without telling, though. He’ll fish it out of me, whether I want him to or not. I’ve also got the locksmith coming round this afternoonto put an extra lock on all my doors. I’m sure it’s unnecessary, but I’d rather be safe than sorry, plus it will make me feel better, because if I’m completely honest, I’m a little freaked out.

“Pistachio cappuccino,” Sandra says as she places the most delicious looking coffee in front of me.

“Oh, hell yes,” I murmur.