After a couple of days of resting and eating, he had finally come up with a plan. He would need to figure out how to get the silver car out of here without being seen, and he would need to figure out where the Sheriff lived. The old man he had killed didn’t have any computers or electronics. He had a radio and an old TV with basic cable, but the news wasn’t saying much. He knew the police were looking for a silver Honda. They even had the license plate. The news had broadcast an announcement about the description of the car, but not a description of him. He had been careful about that.
He’d been wearing his hood up when he grabbed the second woman, so he knew the camera only had a shot of his hoodie. They still knew his size, but not enough of a description to pick him up. He wasn’t about to go walking around Fruita, though. People would be careful of strangers right now, and he knew that there had to be a few people who had seen him and the boy walk down the street. But he still needed access to a computer. Grand Junction was only about 20 minutes down I-70. He had the red F150. No one was looking for that yet. No one seemed to have noticed that the man he had killed was even missing. His decrepit rotary phone never even rang. It worked, because he had checked for a dial tone, but no one ever called the man. If he could get to Grand Junction in the red truck, he could go to the library and use the computers there. Everyone was on social media these days. He would do a search for the Sheriff’s husband and see what came up. It was only about 10:00 in the morning. He had time to do everything today, but he was reluctant to leave. He looked down at his now clean clothes. His black hoodie that he wore all the time over a black t-shirt and black jeans. He realized that he would need to look different if he went to Grand Junction. He still had to drive through Fruita to get to the highway and, even if the news wasn’t broadcasting his description, the State Patrol and the Grand Junction police might have a general description. He rubbed his hand over his bald head. At least, no one knew he was bald. His head had been covered when he walked down the street and when he grabbed that woman.
He walked back down the hall to the man’s bedroom. The man had been a little smaller than he, but not by much. He rifled through the closet. The man seemed to like plaid shirts. He had several plaid shirts. The man picked a bright red plaid shirt. Sometimes, the best way to hide was to stand out. No one would suspect a bald man in a bright plaid shirt. He couldn’t hide his muscles, though. He was a big man, but there were a lot of big men. He grabbed the shirt off the closet and went back to the room he was using. He stripped off his black t-shirt and buttoned on the shirt. It was a little snug but it would do. He tucked the shirt into his waistband and headed back into the man’s bedroom. He needed something else to complete his look. After rifling through the drawers, he found a belt with a large belt buckle. It seems the man had been a rodeo cowboy. He threaded the belt through his belt loops and turned to look in the mirror that hung on the back of the man’s bedroom door.
He looked completely different. And if he exchanged his Doc Martens for that old pair of cowboy boots that was sitting by the back door, his look would be complete. He would be just another country boy. After slipping on the cowboy boots, he grabbed the keys to the truck that were on the counter. He felt exposed, though, when he stepped out of the door. He was used to keeping his hoodie up and shielding himself from the world, but to make this plan work, he needed to walk with his head up. He needed to let people see him. He wished he had a hat, though. He’d feel a little better with something on his head. He’d destroyed the man’s only hat, however, when he’d bashed it with the tire iron.
He started the pick-up truck and drove it slowly down the gravel driveway. He felt better now that he had started on the first part of his plan. This afternoon, he’d finish the second part. When he was finished, he’d only have to wait for the sheriff to come to him. And she would come. She’d have to or lose everything.