The Sniper

Sandra also noticed something she'd not seen when she was out with him. When the woman's attention was elsewhere, John's face relaxed into a neutral expression, only to burst once again into a radiant smile when her attention returned to him. Sandra realised the guy was a predator. She surmised he got off on seducing married women.

She never guessed at the rest of it. That he deliberately killed marriages to get his hands on the divorce money. That would have made her feel even dumber than she did at the moment. She just continued to stare through the window, recognising all the moves from the familiar man.

Recognising he was in the mid stages of seducing his next victim, Sandra was torn between jealousy and wanting to warn the woman what she was getting into. She decided not to walk in and confront John and his target right there and then. With the rage she was feeling, she'd be arrested for assault. No, she decided, she'd wait until the woman was alone to tell her what a snake she was being pursued by.

Sandra returned to her car, turned it to face the exit, then sat and waited. When John led the attractive lady to her car, Sandra fought the urge to run him down. If she could have hit just him, she may well have given in to temptation. The couple reached a Lexus parked next to John's car. In the gloom, Sandra saw John wrap the woman in his arms and kiss her deeply. She made no attempt to break off from him. Sandra guessed from the inferred stage of the budding relationship that John would otherwise act the perfect gentleman and not try for a grope. He was obviously very good at playing the long game.

Sandra watched him open the Lexus door for her and wish her good night. He stood there waving her out of sight. Sandra started her car and began following his latest victim. Her plan was to pull in behind her when she got to her house and tell her a few home truths. That plan went awry when the lady drove straight though a pair of opening iron gates to a flash looking mansion. The gates were almost closed before Sandra reached them. She watched the car drive behind the huge house several hundred metres beyond the gate.

She sat there conflicted on what to do. Finally deciding she only owed the woman a little, as a fellow human being, Sandra reached into the glovebox and removed the notebook that Dave left there to record the services on her car and began writing. With limited space, she stuck to the basic facts. She'd seen the hand holding and the kissing. She was John's last victim and it had cost her a good marriage.

Folding the pages, she pulled up next to the mailbox and stuffed them in. Driving away with a clear conscience but still with her confidence shattered by the ease with which she'd been duped. Her conscience about what she'd done to Dave also increasingly undermined her conviction that she was a fundamentally decent person.

She took to drinking to quiet her demons. Her demons being that she'd betrayed a good man that needed her, for absolutely nothing. Her performance dropped at work, which coupled with losing her licence for the DUI, meant she was lucky to keep her job with a demotion.

Low on funds, she had to sell the house. In the depressed market, she barely broke even on the deal.

The last thing she packed was the unopened letter addressed to Dave.

With no parent left, being an only child, and with a rapidly diminishing group of friends, Sandra became cynical about life in general and men in particular; never trusting the motivations of any man who showed an interest in her. At one point, her lack of interest in men convinced her she must be a lesbian. That lasted until the first time she woke with a hangover and the taste of pussy in her mouth.

Her loss of faith in herself caused her to pick losers as partners, then convince herself she deserved whatever they meted out to her. Several cheated on her and she subconsciously welcomed the pain.

By the time she found a friend that helped her to clean up her act, allowing her to find a half decent man, it was far too late to have children. She was content, if lonely when her end came.

Sandra never saw Dave in the flesh ever again. All she knew was that she came home from work one day to find all his stuff missing. She never saw a cent of their money.

She did see a photograph of him ten years later, in the national press. It was a story of him accepting a national innovation award. The photograph showed him looking fat and happy, surrounded by a smiling wife and laughing children. Sandra sighed. Both for the memories lost and for the certain knowledge she could finally stop looking over her shoulder for the first time since the terrible events of that month.

JOHN'S ENDING

Unfortunately for John, Sandra's hastily scribbled letter, shoved through the mansion's letterbox slot, wasn't read and taken as a warning by his latest victim, but by her husband. Her large, jealous husband who had dragged himself up the ranks in the building trade. A husband who had been conditioned to believe that all problems could be solved with his fists and steel-capped boots.

Confronting his wife, he got her to reveal everything she knew about her predator. Then he made her contact John the following night somewhere secluded, ostensibly to further their relationship. John was found the next day, face and ribs broken, testicles crushed beyond repair.

Being a huge story in their little district, a local reporter did an excellent job of investigating the story. Some publicity caused a few of John's previous victims to come forward. He was in the media several weeks later. There was a full exposé of his modus operandi, with interviews from several other women he'd seduced whose marriages he'd killed, and whose money he'd made off with. When Sandra read the article, she realised she'd been played for an absolute fool.

The police never charged him with fraud but two of the thicker-skinned former victims sued him to recover some of their losses. Let's just say, he no longer has a car, or a six-figure bank account. It's only four figures if you include the numbers after the decimal point.

THE END

Now lighten the fuck up.

I saw a fortune teller the other day. She told me I would come into some money. Last night I rooted a sheila called Penny -- spooky or what?