Chapter 1

Jason Beavaneax surveyed the grimy waiting room of the Collegetown bus station. The flotsam and jetsam of a public place littered the cracked greyish white tile. The occasional hot dog wrapper, the carelessly discarded cup and people marginalized by choice or circumstances wafted around the room. A maintenance worker with a short-handled broom and dustpan made a desultory attempt to clean up the trash. His duties did not extend to the people.

Aside from Jason, there were ten people waiting for this last bus of the night. They covered the gamut from a disreputable looking, rheumy-eyed transient to a young migrant couple. However, one denizen stood out from the rest. She was an older white woman.

Jason’s hobby was people watching. He had a native ability to read body language. When combined with his minor in Psychology, he was very successful in reading the inner workings of a person’s mind.

This woman was under some stress. The firm set of her lips suggested that. The way she sat with her knees spread and legs crossed at the ankles suggested an asexual person or at the other end of the spectrum, a sexually repressed person.