It was a good night for a ride.
A late spring. Brisk, but not freezing. Still cold enough to entice someone walking home to take a ride from a good-looking stranger. He switched the radio from the slow jazz station to something a little livelier. Pop rock. Innocuous, giving the impression of youth without the strong convictions that sometimes followed.
Yes, it was a good night for a ride. He felt strong, vital. The case containing his tools lay in the back seat. He wouldn’t be using them tonight, but he always insisted on being prepared. As the thought of stainless steel teased with the promise of a gift, a tingle of excitement rippled through his midsection.
He rolled down the window and let the cool air frost his nostrils. Checking the time, he quickly calculated who might be where. Maybe he’d take a spin along the lake. There might be some bites down there. If not, he’d take a trip over to the Sound Bar or Enclave.
It didn’t matter. It was a good night for a ride.