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  • Trucker

Copyright Joseph Bush 2012

Smashwords Edition



Being the most successful serial killer in New England is not as easy as it sounds. Really. It takes a lot of lying, cheating, and stealing. It also requires way more honesty than you'd imagine.

I'm not going to tell you my secrets, because my publisher would probably get sued for publishing a how-to on murder. He doesn't deserve it. Me on the other hand, I'm a whole different kettle of fish.


So we open on the scene of my last murder. As my profile dictates, she was a sweet young blonde, juicy and delicious. She seemed to have the impression that I'd be a fun fling to have to get back at her zealot of a father. Or her boyfriend. Whatever. She just kept mentioning “him” over and over. But she shut up pretty quick.

Anyway, this isn't about her. This is about the other girl. The reason I am never ever stepping foot in Massachusetts again. Ever.

I had been packing my things up in the parking lot of the Motel 6. I put my black bag back in the cab of my truck and took my trophies around back. It took a bit to find the right key for the trailer. I had only been in possession of the vehicle, a nice big Peterbilt with a heavy engine and an ultracab sleeper that I rarely used. It was painted with skeletons and grim reapers. I admired both the subject matter and the craftsmanship.

I'm not a trucker by trade, but the truck had become my favorite tool in my kit. It let me get around all over the US and provided a number of amenities that are handy for someone with my skill set.

So I opened the freezing trailer and stepped up into it, walking back to a spot I had picked out for Suzie. I put my souvenirs in their new home carefully and closed it up, waving to all my frozen cuties.

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