a short step to the next level, murder, and Daniels made that leap. By eliminating Diane, he thought he had covered his tracks, he thought he was free and clear; in fact, he invited his own murder.
I continued to read. Over the next two pages Bian described how she approached and entrapped Cliff Daniels, first locating his office in the Pentagon, and from there following him to his car, to his apartment, learning where he got his hair cut, shopped for his groceries, bought his hooch, and she even followed him on a date with one of his mistresses. Then, after a week, in one of the Pentagon cafeterias she fell into a chair at his table, struck up a conversation, and asked him out. What followed was a blow-by-blow account of where and when they went, and what they did. I wasn't sure why she felt it necessary to include all this detail, but maybe the explanation would come later. Interestingly, she never wrote that she slept with him--she used more delicate expressions like "the evening ended on a romantic note"--but I understood.
I thought of that pig having sex with Bian, and I wanted to kill him. I got to that night, and it read:
I took him to dinner at a local bar where I handled the bill. With cash, as I always did. He liked it when I paid. It appealed to his vanity and his selfishness. As usual, the jerk got drunk, and kept putting his hands all over me while I had to act like I enjoyed it. I promised him a night he would never forget, and I meant it. The fool laughed.
Maybe you've already figured this out--but why that night? I knew the maid was coming the next morning and I needed to be there when the police arrived. So I kept him out till midnight, until almost all the other residents of his apartment complex were in bed and asleep. I slipped on a blonde wig and long silk gloves before we got out of the car, and told him this was part of what I had planned for him, which he liked. He had kinky appetites, but I don't think you want to know the details, and I damned sure don't want to recall them.
Upstairs, I asked him to get me a drink of water, and while he went to the kitchen, I went to the bedroom, got his pistol from his bedside table, screwed on the silencer I had earlier ordered via the Internet, and chambered a round. When he came into the bedroom, I told him to undress and get on the bed. He was so excited he nearly ripped his clothes off. I turned on the radio, found an easy listening station, and did a slow striptease that got him more excited. He lay back, fondling himself and watching me. I really hated him, Sean. He kept making obscene comments, telling me the things he was going to do to me, and all I could do was imagine what I was about to do to him. I was down to my bra, my underpants, my wig, and my gloves. Believe me, he was even more disgusting, more selfish and corrupt than you were told. I still didn't know all the details about how he caused Mark's death, but I was sure he did, and I knew he murdered Diane--he split open her skull and left her like garbage in the woods.
So I climbed on top of him, and he told me he loved me, and I told him how happy that made me as I reached for the Glock I had prepositioned under the mattress. He didn't even notice when I held it by his head.
The moment of truth. I thought about not doing it; it wasn't too late to just turn him in. But not very long and not very hard. I thought about telling him everything. How gratifying would that be, to watch his face as I let him know why.
But in the end I simply said, "You're going to die," and then I blew his sick brains out.
I stared at the wall for a moment. I was sure that Bian had never killed before, though it didn't sound like she was very troubled by guilt, which I guess I understood. But also, no matter how much she detested this man, in the end, she couldn't force herself to mentally torture him. Good people may do bad