Think Like A Criminal

Chapter 3

Vincent watched her as she scurried away from him. He smiled to himself, laughing a bit as well when he recalled how she did not remember him. Feisty, he thought, That's what she is. He walked back to the table where his friend was waiting. He saw one of Cara's friends looking at him before rapidly turning away and asking her something. He knew he was mentioned in their conversation.

"So how did it go?" Victor asked once Vincent reached him.

"She didn't remember me," he frowned, "When I told her who I was she didn't even acknowledge me."

"Ouch," Victor commented, "That's hurtful."

"It's nothing compared to what I have in stores for her."

"So are you going to do it now?" he asked, "Looks like a perfect chance."

He was about to reply when he heard Cara's friend mentioning about some class this evening. He stayed quiet and tried to listen to their conversation.

"I would've said tonight," he side glanced at them, "But let's save it for tomorrow; the original plan. According to her timetable she only has one class at five in the evening tomorrow. It'll end at seven."

"So we do nothing today again?" Victor asked annoyed.

"No," he looked back at his irritated friend, "We need to pack up, though. We won't be staying here after abducting her. We'll be on the road again."

Victor nodded as they both watched Cara and her comrades leaving the cafe talking amongst them. When the girls had gone far enough, both the men stood up and walked out of the cafe towards their car. They sat in, as Vincent started the engine, and went back to their current hideout.

***

"This is precisely why I hate packing," Victor complained as he refolded his blue shirt. When he could not do it neatly again, he angrily tossed it in the suitcase. Vincent, on the other hand, stared out of the window of their living room, smoking a cigarette. The sky was clear of any rain clouds and was turning orangish-red, indicating the sunset happening soon.

"Who told you to buy so many clothes?" Vincent commented, with mouth puffing out smoke, "It's not like you've worn all of them."

Victor gave up packing his bag and sat down on the sofa, "I know but you know me, I buy what I like."

That explains the cake mixture machine in the kitchen which he had never used. Victor loves to cook but he does not do it much since they do not want to leave any traces behind. They don't even call for home deliveries. One of them just goes to get food for both of them, of course, making sure they keep a low profile. So it was pretty stupid for Victor to have impulsively bought a cake mixing machine, which has since become a decoration piece in the kitchen.

Vincent sighed before flicking his finished cigarettes out of the window, "Grab whatever is necessary."

"That's much harder," he let out a groan once again which Vincent ignored. His eyes caught a figure outside their hideout. An old woman stood out there staring at the house. Her grey hair were everywhere, she was a thin woman with a hunch back wearing a baggy gown, her hands covered with gloves. Apart from her two legs, a cane in her hand was also supporting her weight.

"She's here," Vincent mumbled. Victor stopped what he was doing and walked to where his friend stood. He glanced out of the window to see the old woman standing.

"Again?" Victor said, "She's been doing this for a week. What does she want?"

His friend smirked, "Maybe the police had sent one of their men to keep a watch on us or perhaps that's the little detective."