Peter also thought the killer was some kind of jaded outcast who always wanted to be the good-looking, popular, jocks he targeted. He believed he perused the streets of college towns, usually Madison, on the night when daylight saving time ended, looking for someone who fit his mold stumbling around drunk and vulnerable. He figured the killer would maybe offer them a ride home or push them into the brush where he would subdue them.
Peter believed my dirty blonde, boyish good looks, athletic build and the slight hint of innocence in my dimpled cheeks which made me so popular working the streets of Milwaukee made me the perfect chum. My job was to wander the frigid streets of Madison near campus, looking tragically wasted. He would hang nearby in an unmarked car, ready to pounce if I drew the killer in.
The fact it was Halloween night added another wrinkle to our ridiculous plan. I would be doing all this in 30 degree frost while dressed like an 80s rock star. Peter figured teasing my blonde hair, wearing makeup and wrapping myself in tight neon spandex would provide the perfect bait for the killer. I hated it at first, but was happy it at least provided a little bit of a disguise. I felt more like another person when I strolled the streets filled with slutty nurses, slutty Little Red Riding Hoods and guys with lazy homemade costumes.
The night started around 11 p.m. with me sipping on a Red Bull vodka at an open air bar in the heart of the campus scene. I could see Peter parked across the street in his bulky white Crown Victoria he somehow didn’t think looked like an undercover cop car.
We were both supposed to be sentineled here to start to scope the scene from the start. See if we saw anyone who looked out of place. Any car that seemed to drive by too many times or linger. See if there were any other guys out who looked like they could be fresh meat for the killer.
Ironically, I spent most of this time, sipping drinks, wondering if Peter was actually the killer.