Friday nights were always such a bore. The same people playing the same games in the same way. No variety. George always got drunk and rode the mechanical bull. Jared always started a fight at the pool table with whomever Mandy was hanging on to. Ray, the bartender would always turn the music up to drown out the belligerent drinkers about midnight. And Sarah, the cocktail waitress always called in sick, leaving the task the Amy, a college student that worked weekend mornings at the animal shelter. Not that Amy minded, there was good money to be made on Fridays. It was just so routine that the money hardly made the job worth it.
The owner tried to stir things up a bit a few weeks ago by adding a karaoke machine. All it really accomplished was give the belligerent drunks a microphone so they could out do the jukebox speakers.
There was one new face among the normal Friday night crowd tonight. A well dressed, dark skinned man of modest build. He had a handsome face and a quiet demeanor, drinking nothing more than plain lemonade. He did not play pool, nor did he ride the mechanical bull; he didn't start a fight or sing some awful rendition of "I'm Too Sexy" on the new karaoke machine. He simply sat quietly in the back corner of the bar drinking his lemonade. He watched each person with great interest as if deciding who would best suit him in conversation. Apparently not finding anyone worthy, he left the bar just before closing time leaving a fairly large tip for Amy.
It took the usual extra thirty minutes to get Evan out of the bar and poured into a taxi. It had become so routine that most of the closing work could be done while he snored on the floor next to the mechanical bull.
"Next Friday, then?" Amy asked with her usual playful smile. Flirting with Ray was also part of her routine. He was nearly twice her age and married, but bar life had rules of its own. She nudged him in the side with her elbow to elicit a response.
He smiled at her. "Sure kid. Maybe I ought to just schedule you instead of Sarah from now on. Seems like she don't much care for Fridays around here."
"Suits me fine. Either way, I'd be working."
He ruffled her hair a bit as they turned back to the bar. "I'll finish up, you go ahead."
"You sure? I haven't done the bathrooms yet."
"I'm sure. Besides you have to work in the morning, er, I mean later this morning." He glanced at his watch which read 2am. "I got it. Go home and take a nap."
"Aye, aye Captain." She saluted him and head for her car as he went back inside.
The little blue Prius sat alone on the eastern side of the lot. Ray had always parked at the back door of the bar to avoid trouble. He had told Amy to do the same, but she insisted that she was fine. Nothing had ever happened before and since the crime rate was so low in this particular town, she didn't see the need to be overly cautious.
She punched a button on her key to unlock the doors as she approached the car. A voice from behind her stopped her cold as she opened the driver's door.
"Hello again, Twila." The voice was smooth and eerily sweet with just a hint of a growl behind each word. He was close. Close enough to grab her if she ran. Close enough to muzzle her if she screamed.
A gasp caught in Amy's throat. She turn to face the voice, putting herself between the door and the car. It was the handsome, dark skinned stranger from the bar. The quiet lemonade drinker. "I'm sorry, I think you have me mixed up with someone else." She tried to sound calm and reassuring though her insides were exploding with fear.
He smiled revealing a perfect row of white teeth; his golden eyes piercing through her soul. A small victorious chortle escaped his throat. "Oh, I have the right girl alright. I warned you that one would die for every week you made me wait. It's been seven days, witch."
Fear raced through Amy's veins. Tears spilled out over her trembling cheeks. "Please." She begged. "I don't know any Twila. My name is Amy. Amy Fisher. I don't know who you're talking to."
He smiled again. "You hear that Twila? Amy Fisher doesn't know who you are." Another chuckle. "Too bad she's gonna have to die for you anyway."
Amy opened her mouth to scream but as expected, the dark skinned man muzzled her with his large hand. His other was raised high enough for Amy's eyes to focus on it. She watched in horror as his fingers curled into a claw shape and his nails grew out an inch from their tips. She fought in futility to break free from his grip, screaming into his thick skinned hand as his nails dug into the side of her neck, piercing her jugular vein. She could feel the warm fluid flow down the front of her shirt, filling her bra before continuing down to her waist. Each beat of her heart pushed more fluid through the gape in her neck. Her muscles started to relax, the fear gone from her eyes.
He removed his hand from her mouth as she slumped in his arms. He slid her down into her car carefully and buckled her in. His fingers caressed the side of her face, then pulling her face towards him so that her eyes met his again. "That's one." He leaned in and kissed her. She didn't fight. The last beat of her heart fell against her empty chest. He tucked a paper note into the clean side of her bra for the investigators to find and shut the door to the little blue Prius.