The Listed

Chapter Three

Miguel Winter slugged the alarm clock at 5:00 a.m. exactly, a micro-second before the buzzer sounded. The clock flew across the room and slammed against the wall as he sat up in bed. He yawned and scratched his face; he needed to shave. Damn morning again, he grunted. Damn clock. He'll have to buy a new one after work, one that didn't wake him up, one of those that tell time but don't buzz or wail or ring. 

Shaving took all of eight minutes; he had the bloody toilet paper wads to prove it. Men with craggy faces know his pain. So do women with craggy legs, he laughed. No wonder he was divorced twice, with no prospects in the foreseeable future. Like any good single man, he prepared his own breakfast: black coffee and black toast. He skimmed the morning newspaper, but stopped to read the latest on the Campus Killer. The bastard had claimed another victim. 

Number twelve, if memory served. College girls, blonde, attractive. Met with the killer on campus most likely, thus the name, and its seems the vics knew the person, which would account for trust issue. Why would the vics go with the killer?! He either knew him or trusted him. Maybe they did some escort work on the side to supplement their income. After all, higher education was expensive these days. Seems the police weren't pursuing that angle though, at least according to the paper. 

And maybe the girls just deserved it. He understood that motive. His exes sure understood that motive. He didn't mind putting them in their place if they questioned his whereabouts. Maybe the killer was doing everyone a favor. In his heart, he felt an affinity with this motive the killer may have. 

He imagined wetting a small towel and rolling it into a "rat's tail". Think you're better than me, college girl? He laughed at his morbid thoughts. Better get to work and write that article that will win me the Pulitzer Prize. 

The Editor called Miguel into his office as soon as he walked in. "I have a good reason for being late," lied Miguel.

"Who cares?!" Dennis Butler snarled. He handed the hungover reporter a piece of paper with a name and address on it. "Go here, interview that person, come back here, and write me second page piece on the Campus Killer."

"Now?" Miguel wondered. He hadn't even checked his messages. 

"Now! Everything can wait. You want the story or not."

Miguel nodded like an idiot. 

"Then get the fuck outta here."

Miguel didn't even notice that he was headed for Maitelin University to talk with the Head of the Psychology Department. For some reason, that gave him chills.