Page 19 of The Neighbor

Predicting a single person’s behavior is easy. Predicting a group of people’s is far more challenging.

I hated being around this many people at once. They’re loud, rude, and far too many of them needed to be reminded of the virtue of a shower once in a while. If I didn’t have a good reason to stay at that job, I would have left a week after I started.

And no, it wasn’t the pay, which was far less than I should be making. I didn’t still live with my mother because I liked it there.

No, my reason for staying here was named Tess. Tess Banks. Petite, blond, and as sweet as they come, she was perfect. I knew from the moment I met her that first day I started working at Big Joe’s that she would be my next kill.

For two months, I watched her. At the beginning of February, I had to leave my last job cleaning office buildings when the company went bankrupt, so I ended up at Big Joe’s stocking shelves for just above minimum wage and assumed I’d leave as soon as I could find a better job.

And then I met Tess in the breakroom, and I knew I couldn’t quit. Not until I killed her.

For Valentine’s Day, she brought everyone a little box of homemade candy hearts with cute sayings like “Text me” and “You’re mine.” Even me. When she handed me my pink box, she smiled and said, “Adam, I know we don’t really know each other, so don’t think I’m a weirdo or stalker or anything like that. I just didn’t want to forget you since I have a Valentine’s gift for everyone else.”

I knew she wasn’t stalking me. I’d know since I’m a stalker. No, she was being nice, and if I hadn’t decided to make her my next victim before then, that moment would have been when I knew.

Tess Banks had to die.

But I’d been planning that eventuality since the day I met her, and that time came a week after the big April Fool’s sale. I’ll never forget how hot it was that day. Technically, it was spring, but the thermometer got to the high eighties by mid-afternoon, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to convince her to take a ride home from me since my car’s air conditioning didn’t work. The last thing anyone wants to do is sit in a steaming hot car after it’s been sitting in the scorching sun for nearly ten hours.

Still, I had to try. I needed to get her into my car. So right before the end of our shift, I found her in the housewares sectionshe managed and positioned myself at the end of the towel aisle. When she came around the corner, she nearly ran into me and apologized, like all nice people do.

Closing my eyes, I let myself drift back to that day.

“I’m so sorry, Adam. I nearly crashed right into you,” she says, her big blue eyes open wide in fear that she’s offended someone.

I smile and shake my head. “It’s okay. I guess if I have to be crashed into, there’s no better place than the towel aisle. They would have broken my fall.”

Tess giggles as she nods. “Maybe the pillow aisle. I guess it’s lucky I ran into you here—well, almost ran into you. I was wondering if I could ask you a big favor.”

I’ve been as friendly as I possibly can be for weeks, far more than I even thought I was capable of being before this. She actually is a very sweet person, so it hasn’t been a complete chore being kind to her. My goal was to make her feel comfortable enough with me that when I began offering her rides home, she wouldn’t balk and think I’m some creep who just wants to take her to some deserted place and force myself on her.

That’s not it at all. Well, not the forcing myself on her.

So every chance I’ve gotten, I show her I’m someone she can trust and consider a friend, and my plan has worked far better than I could have ever dreamed. Last week, she began to bring me these little presents every day for my lunch. Nothing big. A miniature bag of Fritos one day. A handful of Hershey’s Kisses the next. One day she brought me one of the chocolate cupcakes with vanilla icing she made the night before with a few of her friends at some baking party.

Now she wants to ask me a big favor, and of course, I’ll say yes. Anything to make sure I have her complete trust.

I glance down her body, hating the red and black vests we all have to wear as employees of Big Joe’s, and my gaze lingers on her nametag where she attached a smiley face next to her name written in pink marker. “What’s the big favor?”

Tess looks down toward her feet for a few moments before tilting her head back to look up at me. She’s much shorter than I am—maybe five two, at most—and compared to my six-foot height, she’s tiny.

“My car’s in the shop. I had to get a ride from my friend this morning, but she called me at lunch and told me she got called in for an extra shift. I can’t be mad at her since it’s double time and I know she needs the money. So I’m stranded, and I was hoping you wouldn’t mind giving a girl a lift.”

I fight to keep the grin off my face at how fortuitous her problem is to my plans. It’s like the universe is working hand in hand with me to give me what I want today. I figured killing her would be easy, but I never dreamed this kind of help would drop into my lap.

“So you need a ride home?” I ask, practically stunned at my good fortune.

A sheepish look settles into her expression as she nods. “I don’t mean to overstep the boundaries of our friendship. I know we don’t really know one another very well since you’ve only been working here for two months. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t really stuck, Adam.”

Her blue eyes fill with hope as she stares up at me, so I quickly answer, “It’s okay. I’m happy to do it. I have to ask you, though. You said you and your friends were at a baking party the other day. I told my mother about it, and she wanted me to ask you where you did that. What it at one of your friend’s houses or somewhere else?”

Relief washes over her as I tell her what she wanted to hear. “Oh, yeah, the cupcakes. We did it at this place over onChestnut Street. You know how there are places where you and some friends go and paint a picture? You probably don’t since you’re a guy, but women do that kind of thing and it’s fun. Well, I guess somebody figured out that art isn’t the only thing that works for, so the Bubbly Bakery Shop started doing what they call Baking Nights.”

She stops herself and then adds, “That’s probably more information than you or your mother wanted to know. I always do that. I can’t help it when I’m really enthusiastic about something.”

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure to tell her everything you said. Bubbly Bakery Shop on Chestnut Street. Do they do them only particular nights or every night?”

“Oh, they do them by reservation only. I think they do it any night Monday through Friday, though. Just tell your Mom to call the bakery. They’ll have all the details.”