The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.
It felt like someone was watching him.
Had the shooter returned? Come back to finish off what he started? It scared him that they had no idea who he was. If they couldn’t figure it out, then how could they find him?
If it was the shooter, he needed to arm himself with something. There was a tire iron in his trunk, maybe he should try and get to it.
“Hi.”
The voice startled him, but he tried not to show it. Slowly he turned around, wondering how he would defend himself if the need arose. Even if he had gotten the tire iron from the trunk as a weapon it paled in comparison to a gun.
A middle-aged man stood there. He was balding on top, had a potbelly, and was dressed in perhaps the most hideous sweater Luke had ever seen in his life. He relaxed a hair. This wasnotthe man he had seen pointing a gun at Summer’s house yesterday morning. Still, he didn’t want to let his guard down completely. This man was still a stranger, and there was no reason for him to be slinking around in the dark in Summer’s front yard.
“Hello,” he said warily.
“I'm Henry. Henry Peyton.” The man beamed at him. “Summer’s next-door neighbor.” He pointed over his shoulder at the house behind him.
He relaxed a little more. That was a legitimate reason to be in Summer’s yard at night. Well,semi-legitimate. “I'm Luke.”
The man nodded. “Summer’s boyfriend I presume?”
Luke nodded. Although they hadn’t officially discussed titles, they had been on a date, and he had spent last night at her house, and he was spending tonight there as well. He guessed that was enough to qualify him as her boyfriend.
“How’s she doing after yesterday?” Henry continued.
“She’s hanging in there.” Summer was quite possibly the toughest woman he had ever met.
“It was so scary. The cops said they didn’t know who it was. I wonder if it was random or if someone was targeting Summer.”
“Have you seen anyone hanging around?” he asked. He knew the police would have already asked all of Summer’s neighbors these questions, but it didn’t hurt to ask again. Perhaps something had occurred to him after he had been interviewed.
“No, nothing out of the ordinary, but after this I'm going to be keeping a better watch on everything that happens in the street. I should probably get a security system installed as well. Maybe the police would have been able to arrest this shooter already if we’d had video footage or something. Are you heading out?”
“Yes.”
The man eyed him shrewdly, then said, “I’ll keep an extra close watch on Summer’s house until you get back.”
Luke appreciated that. It would help him to worry a little less. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Henry said. “That’s what neighbors are for. Goodnight.”
“Night,” he replied as the man turned and headed back to his house.
Once this misunderstanding with the cops was cleared up, he could have the life he had wanted for so long. A wife, a family, a neighborhood just like this where people looked out for each other.
February 21st
5:33 A.M.
Pain pulsed through him.
Up and down his body with a steady rhythm.
It started at his head, flowed down through his chest, abdomen, and right to the tips of his toes then made its way back up to his head again.
He tried to focus through it, but it was hard. It was so consuming. Like nothing he had ever experienced. And he had experienced pain before. He had been in a devastating car accident twenty years ago. His car had been a mangled wreck, torn in two by the impact with a truck. His wife had been killed instantly. He had been left with a broken back. It had taken years of surgeries and physical therapy to be able to walk again.
It had also taken years to work through the pain of losing his beloved wife.