The Night Killer

acting like one. You’re over-the-top and working against your own best interests. You’re high,” said Diane.
    She watched him standing, snarling at her, anger written in every line of his body. She wasn’t sure why he was angry. Perhaps it was just the drugs in his system. Perhaps his upbringing had been as bad as Travis’.
    Travis returned with Andie in tow. She stumbled as he pulled her along. Their arrival stopped whatever retort was on Jason’s trembling lips.
    “Andie, are you all right?” said Diane.
    Andie looked exhausted. Her hands were duct-taped behind her and she had been crying. Her arms were raw where they ripped off the previous tape. Probably more than once. Andie nodded and Diane started toward her, but Travis pulled Andie back.
    “No. Here we are with Andie. You show us the diary.”
    “It’s a ways back through the woods,” said Diane.
    “She’s lying. I watched her the whole way through the woods. She never once stopped to hide anything,” said Jason.
    Jason leered at her, knitting his brow together over his dark eyes. “They are not coming, you know,” he said, grinning.
    “Who?” said Diane.
    “Your policeman friend, the army guy—they’re not coming. I saw to that.”
    Diane felt fear creeping up her spine.
    “What are you talking about?” she asked.
    “I’m talking about what’s going to be on the news. Mysterious crash. Mysterious sniper. I knew they were coming. I told Travis you would double-cross us. I laid in wait when you left the museum and I shot their tires out on Highway Seventy-nine.” Jason laughed. “You should have seen that SUV roll.” He laughed again and drew his gun. “They’re dead, dead, dead.” He pointed his gun three times as if he were shooting, to emphasize the words “dead, dead, dead.”
    The fear that Diane had been keeping at bay tore through, cutting her stomach and raising bile in her throat. She tried to keep her face calm.
    “What’s he saying?” said Andie.
    By the reedy pitch of her voice, Andie sounded like she could be pushed over into hysteria with another cruel statement. You’ve done so well , thought Diane. Hold together just a little longer.
    “He’s saying that he’s as dumb as a sack of pig shit,” said Diane.
    “What are you talking about?” Jason said. “I’ll kill you, you fucking bitch.”
    Jason was the one who wrote the messages, Diane realized at that moment. She wondered what drug he was on. She hoped it wasn’t PCP. Nothing like a maniac who couldn’t feel pain.
    “They had the diary,” said Diane.
    “What?” said Travis. “Jason, you pissant. I never said to go shooting things up.” Travis turned to Diane. “Are you saying they had the diary with them?”
    “Yes,” said Diane. “It was my insurance. I gave it to them to look after until I could get Andie.”
    Jason looked scared for a fraction of a second, then enraged. He jumped at Diane. She sidestepped and kicked his gun from his hand as he flew past, which only enraged him more. He lashed out at Diane and caught her in the side with a glancing blow. He grabbed her and pushed and pulled her to the edge of the creek. Diane struggled to regain her balance.
    “You’re going to get it, bitch. Oh yeah, you’re going to get it.”
    Jason fell on top of her and pushed her head underwater. The cold mountain water washed up to her shoulders. Her face hurt against the rocky bottom. Diane felt for some kind of weapon but found none. She’d seen a small log wedged near the rocks as he was pushing her head under, but she couldn’t lay her hands on it.
    Jason pulled her head out of the water and pushed it back under again. The water wasn’t deep, just deep enough for her head to be covered and for her to drown. Her body hurt where his knees pressed against her. But she was grateful that his rage made him want to kill her with his bare hands and not shoot her. Diane fought panic from his drugged violence. She could hear Andie screaming in what sounded like the distance.
    Diane had an interesting talent that was mostly just fun back when she was in college. She’d used it once before to evade men chasing her when she first came to the museum as director. Diane could hold her breath an inordinate amount of time.
    She had an idea, but she was afraid she would panic in the middle of it and it would be over for her. She forced herself to relax and be still, to ignore the pain in her back and face as he held her under. She was counting on