Terry stood on the shaded side of the gas station and watched for the driver, gulping the bottled water he’d bought from the outdoor vending machine. Avoiding face-to-face conversations with people was the cautious thing to do. He didn’t know what, if anything, had been told to the media, but since the Chicago PD was surveilling him, it wouldn’t be long before his image would be plastered on every news channel in the Chicago viewing area.
He checked the time—4:13. Minutes later, a car turned in to the station, drove around the pumps, and stopped at the side of the building. Terry snugged his ball cap lower, adjusted his sunglasses, and noted the sticker on the vehicle’s windshield. He walked toward the car. It was his ride. Climbing into the backseat, he gave the driver a standard greeting, told him where he wanted to be dropped off, then remained silent for the duration of the forty-minute ride.
Taking a back way into his neighborhood while using a driving service would definitely get past the cops, who Terry assumed were only focused on the street that went in and out of his subdivision. By being dropped off on a neighboring street, taking the well-worn path that kids used to get from house to house, and then scooting through the loose fence slats in his backyard, he would go unnoticed and have easy access to the rear garage door and into the house.
A few minutes before five, the driver slowed at the curb and shifted into Park. “This is where you wanted to go, right?”
“Yep. This is it. Thanks.” Terry climbed out and waited for the driver to turn his car around and leave, then he continued in on foot. The walk would take only a few minutes, but he’d remain watchful and keep an eye on his surroundings. Checking for back ways in probably didn’t cross any of the officers’ minds that morning, except for Detective Sanders. Terry smirked at the thought.
And look where that got him.
He kept his head low and glanced from left to right as he quickened his pace. Once he reached the path, he’d be fine. The trail wasn’t visible from the streets.
Reaching his backyard, Terry had to feel for the loose boards. He knew the general area but had to locate the two boards with missing nails. With the bottom of the boards pushed to the side, he could squeeze through then right them again.
Ah… there they are.
The thought of marking them had crossed his mind, but reality told him he might not need to worry about sneaking in and out anymore. He would take a stand in his house and go from there.
The chances of waking up in my own bed tomorrow are probably slim to none.
Terry made it through the fence and scurried to the rear entry of the garage. He pulled his keys from his pocket and stopped when he realized the door wasn’t locked. Crouching down and taking a closer look, he saw scratch marks around the key slot.
Somebody has already been inside and has either gone through the house or is still there.
With his Beretta in hand, he pushed the door inward and passed by his and Katlyn’s cars, then he continued into the house. As he searched room by room, the house appeared untouched until he reached the master bedroom and saw the open closet door. A creature of habit, Terry always kept closets closed. Seeing it open set off alarms in his head.
“You sons of bitches!” Terry pushed Katlyn’s clothes aside, and there was a void where the AR-15 had previously leaned against the closet’s back wall. Seeing the empty space sent him into a fit of rage. “You want to invade my privacy just like the thief did the night he killed my wife and baby? Well, bring it on. I still have plenty of weapons that are loaded and raring to go.” He crossed the hallway to the baby’s room and reached into the bassinet. Beneath the mattress, his .22 magnum still lay undiscovered. Another rifle and a shotgun lay behind the bookcase. “I have what I need to keep you cops at bay for a while. From now on, I’ll be the one who decides who lives and dies, but I guarantee you one thing. The first person who steps over the door’s threshold will be blown away.”
Terry gathered his arsenal of weapons and ammunition, grabbed a chair from the kitchen table, and dragged it to the spot he’d chosen. Positioning it so he could see the patio door, the front door, and the door that came in from the garage, he took a seat and watched. If a knob turned on any of those doors, the person on the other side would be dead within a second. He’d missed his chance at saving Katlyn, but he would save himself from the people who thought they could barge into his sanctuary and take everything that meant something to him, including his own life.