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Eyes half-closed, I soaked in the sounds. Seagulls shouting at each other as they dove at the surf. A hum of a motor in the distance. The rustle of trees. The water rushing up to caress the sand. Even the little pop of cooling metal in the engine beneath me added to the symphony.
A man could get used to this.
It would probably get him killed—but he could get used to it.
With that in mind, I savored the streaks of red and orange with hints of pink as the sun continued its relentless ascent. That was the thing about the universe; there were constants.
The sun always rose, even when you couldn’t see it. It didn’t matter if the skies were dark, leaden gray, and a storm raged. Beyond that storm, the sun was out there. The same was true for when it was time to set.
Sunny days ended. Period.
Even now, as the sun came up here, it was going down somewhere else. There was a peace in accepting the inevitable.
Relentless and inevitable, both were worth aspiring too.
By the time I finished my coffee, the sun was up and the time for ruminating was over. Pushing off the car, I crumpled up the empty cup and tossed it into a nearby trash receptacle before I climbed back in. The car came with its own GPS, but I used a burner phone set up for these occasions.
Savannah Acres wasn’t that far, so I pulled out and headed for the address. An hour later, I parked just down the block from his house. Leaning back, I waited. The schedule said he went for a run most mornings at seven.
So I’d either see him leaving or returning. If not for a run, I was patient. Everything else I’d learned said he lived alone. I could do my own footwork, but I paid someone else this time.
I didn’t want Voss alerted to my presence. Not until I was ready for him to know. He was one of the few who’d managed to stay in hiding long enough that it had to be deliberate.
So, what did he know? When did he know it? I planned to find out.
Almost thirty minutes after I parked, the door to the house I watched opened and let out a man in his mid-to-late forties. Salt-and-pepper decorated his hair, but his tan was definitely a product of life here.
Dressed in t-shirt, shorts, and running shoes, he put in his earbuds, clicked something on his phone then tucked the phone into an armband before he started running.
Fortunately for me, he headed in this direction. I’d seen the photos. Now I wanted to see him.
As he passed on the other side of the street, I memorized his face. He’d aged, but it matched the original photos I had. I tracked him via the rearview mirror as he continued down the street and toward the beach.
It would be a little while before he returned. Sliding the fishing hat on, I reached into the back and pulled out the work duffel. Fishing hat on to cover my hair, I pushed out of the car and made my way down the street.
I’d clocked most of the surveillance cameras. Few were pointed at the street itself, but even if they were, my steady gait wasn’t going to attract attention. The work duffel looked like a handyman’s bag.
I was just here to get some work done.
A fact.
The locks on the door weren’t much of a challenge. In fact, they were pretty insulting. There was a security system and I had the base override code, but—it wasn’t armed.
I stared at that for a beat.
Voss had been here long enough to get comfortable.
Too comfortable.
I shook my head. Peace and quiet—it was how men got killed. They relaxed and then someone like me showed up. I gloved up before I got started. After a brief search of the house, I verified the occupancy was only one.
Toiletries for one.
Men’s clothes only in the closet.
A sad queen-sized bed with only one side indented.
Men’s shoes.
