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Baxter spent the last three days going into every dive, trap house and abandoned building he could find. He was tired, hungry and fresh out of patience. He’d spent over three thousand dollars buying information. Every crackhead in town was now getting high off his money. This infuriated him.
He slid behind the wheel of his car. Finally, he was able to pinpoint a house where Isaac was known to frequent. He was told Isaac frequently visited this house in the company of a beautiful woman named Lillian Carmichael. After cranking the car, he switched the radio on to distract the crazy thoughts threating to drown out his common sense. His hands shook and sweat poured off his forehead. If he wasn’t careful, he would make a mistake.
He drove over to the small blue house where he was told he might find Isaac.
Baxter stared at the drug den. The best way to let someone know you wanted their attention was to disrupt their flow of products. He was desperate to get Natasha back and if he had to go through Isaac to get her, then so be it.
If he couldn’t find Isaac, he sure as heck would make Isaac look for him.
Baxter waited until it was dark before exiting his vehicle and removing a red and black gas can. He checked both sides of the street before navigating toward the house.
Banging hard on the door was the only warning Baxter intended to give the crackheads inside. The best way to lure a drug dealer out of hiding spot,
was messing with his money.
“Open up, or I promise I’ll break the door off the hinges.”
One of the occupants eased over to the door, unlocked it, and then tried to hide behind the overturned couch in the middle of the floor.
“Where is he?” Baxter demanded.
Six sets of red, terrified, paranoid eyes glared back at him, though no one spoke.
He reached out, grabbing one of the crackheads. “Where is Isaac?”
The ashy, white, blistered lips of the man moved, but no sounds came out. He yowled in pain when Baxter hit him with the edge of his taser. “I asked you a question!”
Gurgling sounds filled the air as Baxter grabbed another guy by the throat and began choking him. The remaining four people in the room made a beeline out the front door—all of them trying to squeeze out at one time.
“Where’s Isaac?” Baxter asked again.
“I don’t know,” a small voice spoke from behind him.
He spun around with the intention of kicking whoever it was in the face but stopped short when he realized the hollowed-out face was that of a very young girl.
“Sir, Isaac hasn’t been here.” She took a step back. “He got beat up.”
Stunned, he just stared at her. “Do you know where he is?”
“No sir,” she said, shrinking back into the corner.
“Everybody get out right now,” he yelled as he poured gasoline throughout the dilapidated old house.
When he was done, he walked outside and said, “Tell Isaac, Baxter demolished his property.”
He lit a match.
Within minutes, red-hot flames ate away at the house.
Baxter took his time driving away from the scene of the fire.