The sun had set an hour earlier, and as nightfall overtook the sky, criminal activity on the streets of Englewood ramped up. Quinlan was itching to eliminate two pieces of shit, Trevor Botty and Fay Carlson, from the face of the earth. With those last two sinners on the list gone and made examples of, Quinlan’s agenda would be complete. The wrongs would be righted, and peace would be restored—at least for the time being. There was no reason to wait.
Quinlan sat in front of Trevor’s house and watched. The note had already been written, but since there wasn’t anyone to mail it to, Quinlan planned to leave it with Trey’s body. Trey had come and gone three times in the last hour, likely to drop off money and pick up more drugs to peddle at the corner. Catching him off-guard during one of his return visits home would be a sure thing—an easy kill.
Giving the clock on the dash a quick glance and seeing that it was pushing nine p.m., Quinlan wondered if it made more sense to kill Trey right then or kill him later.
I could sit here and wait for a few more hours to pass or get it over with and call it a night. Trey Botty won’t live to see another day, sell another bag of weed, or push another gram of cocaine, and no matter what, that slimeball is going to get a bullet between the eyes tonight.
After twisting the silencer onto the barrel, Quinlan exited the car and crossed to Trey’s house, making sure to stay away from every street light. With the gun racked and a plastic bag secured over Quinlan’s hand and the weapon, it was time to wait. Trey would be back at the house soon enough. Shooting somebody outside under the cover of darkness was the safest way to go, yet the ejected shell casing could easily get lost at night. With the gun secured in a bag, that loss wouldn’t be a factor.
Standing beside the large cedar tree at the edge of the sidewalk, Quinlan watched the busy intersection several blocks away. That night, Trey had set up shop there, and business was robust. People came and went like they were passing through a revolving door.
It won’t be long before he needs to refill that pack slung over his shoulder.
The wait was short. At 9:25, Trey headed up the block and toward his home. Quinlan sucked in a deep breath, gave the neighborhood a once-over, and was thankful that no one was in the immediate area. Since it was a distressed neighborhood, the street in front of Trey’s house was as dead as he would be in a few minutes.
With the sound of footsteps getting closer, Quinlan squeezed between the foliage of a bush next to the sidewalk and waited. A figure passed the nearest streetlight then turned up the sidewalk to the house. Trey, preoccupied with separating the house key from the others on the ring, clearly didn’t notice his killer was only feet away. Quinlan called out his name, and Trey spun as he tried to see where the person stood.
“I’m here, right here.” Quinlan popped out of the foliage.
Trey ripped his bowie knife from the sheath and began waving it wildly, but with a gun pointed at his head, it was obvious who had the advantage.
Quinlan chuckled. “Really, idiot? Back up to the steps and sit your ass down. You make one wrong move and you’re a dead man.”
“Who the hell are you, and what do you want? Is this a holdup? If it is, you can have the money in my pack and the drugs that are in the house. Take it all. Just don’t hurt me.”
“Sorry, Trey, but that isn’t an option. You see, as soon as I took that money and dope, you’d go right back to peddling drugs again. You have no remorse or regrets for your actions. The only way to make you stop is to nip it in the bud.”
“But how are—”
Trey’s head bounced, and his body fell backward on the stoop.
“Sorry, but your blabbering was getting on my nerves. I like it much better when you’re quiet.”
Quinlan knelt at the body, shoved the note deep into Trey’s front pants pocket, then crossed the street to the car. A feral cat skirted Quinlan’s leg, hissed, and continued on its way. After removing the plastic bag and placing it and the gun on the passenger-side floor, Quinlan let out a relieved huff and drove away.
“Four down and one to go. I feel the weight lifting from my shoulders already, and I’m pretty sure I’ll sleep good tonight.”