Terry sat in the darkened living room and watched the neighborhood from the bay window. Ever since the break-in and the murder of his wife, Katlyn, and their unborn daughter, Bria, last month, he’d prayed for the burglar to return. He’d be ready and waiting to blow his brains out the second he stepped over the threshold.
He didn’t have plans for the night except to just watch and mourn his loss. Terry looked left and right and then left again as he sipped his coffee. He needed to stay awake. The Smith & Wesson .22 Magnum was within easy reach on the end table a foot to his right.
A light illuminating the back and side yard at the foreclosed house down the street caught his eye.
How the hell did that light up?
In the months since that house had been vacated, Terry had never seen a yard light go on. If there had been a motion-sensor light, he would have seen it by now. He slid his pistol into his waistband and slipped out through the side gate.
Hiding in the shadows of the neighbor’s hedges, he saw a man approach the foreclosed house while talking on his phone. “Got it. I’ll be there in a sec. I’m opening the gate now.”
What the hell is going on, and who is in there?
Terry waited a good five minutes then lifted the latch on the gate.