Problem Child (Jane Doe #2) - Victoria Helen Stone Page 0,54

white man in his fifties. Receding hairline, jaw going soft, a fake smile that’s too awkward in this age of friendly selfie smiles. He also owns an oil company worth nearly fifty million.

“So you live in Norman, huh?” Derrick interrupts, obviously feeling neglected.

“What?” I ask.

“We work over there occasionally. Maybe I could call you next time we’re in town? We could grab dinner. Get to know each other?”

“Sure,” I mutter.

“I think we’re scheduled to head east next month, and I make the motel arrangements, so . . . There’s no reason we can’t overnight in Norman. I’d love to see you.”

I sigh and decide I’ll have plenty of time to do research later. Right now I should concentrate on my current goal: I’m about to meet a wind robot!

I click off my phone and smile. “You’d really have time to take me out if you’re working in Norman?”

“I’d make time to take you out,” he says with a grin.

Soothed by his attention, I sink back into my role. “Aw, that’s so sweet, Derrick.”

“Life on the road gets lonely sometimes. If you’re not seeing anyone . . . And you’ve got a place?”

“Sure. What kind of food do you like? Maybe I could make something home-cooked for you. You must get tired of restaurant food.”

“I sure do. That sounds like a great time. Good food. Good company.”

I’m already bored with this imaginary assignation, so I change the subject to the only date with Derrick that’s actually going to happen. “How long until we get to the turbine?”

He tips his head toward the road. “There’s a good, secluded approach about five miles from here. Not visible from the highway. You know, you look different out here.”

I pass him back the cigarette and scrape my teeth over my lower lip. “Oh yeah?” I guess Naive Tequila Sunrise Jane wouldn’t sit with her legs spread and shoulders slouched. “It’s just the tequila loosening me up.”

“Mm. I feel pretty good myself right now.”

“I can trust you, right? Letting you take me off the highway to a secluded spot? You’re not going to kill me?”

He blinks and sits up a little straighter. “No way. You can trust me. I’m a good guy.”

I lean forward and reward him with a little pat on the leg, then I steal another drag of his cigarette. “All right.” Just over the horizon, the turbine blades start peeking at us as they spin, so I face front again and point. “Is that the one? Right there?”

“Almost. It’s just past that one. You can’t quite see it yet.”

“God, this is cool.” The earlier clouds have cleared away, and the evening sun turns all the ugly brown scrub to gold. Each rotation of the blade catches a little yellow-orange light, and the nicotine is hitting my blood, and I feel perfect.

“You’re a funny girl,” he says.

“Am I?” Yes, I am. A strange girl. A puzzle. An abomination, according to dear old Ma. I’m the male fantasy and the male fear all rolled into one package.

He doesn’t know I’m dangerous, of course. Because I’m a woman. But I could have lured him out with no one knowing. I could have approached him in secret with a fake name, and he would have taken me here because I asked.

He understands that I’ve been conditioned not to be a cocktease, not to lead him on, not to flaunt something he can’t have, because then he’ll have a right to take it. He believes that if I let him buy my drinks and get me alone, I’m obligated to put out. He knows he’s the winner here. He’s the man.

What he doesn’t know is that his testicles don’t imbue him with immortality, and I could easily get out a gun while he’s fumbling with the button of his pants. I could kill him and leave his body in the dirt where no one would spot it from the highway. Like he’s a woman. Like he’s one of a million dead women.

Why did he have a drink with her if he didn’t want it? Why did he let her into his truck? Why did he go off with her if he wanted to say no? What did he expect to happen?

You really have to be smarter if you don’t want to get murdered by strange women.

I smirk into the sunlight and wonder why there aren’t more female serial killers. It would be such a simple job.

I’m not talking about myself, of course. I like my cozy lifestyle far