Tim Green by Fifth Angel The

Author:Fifth Angel The [The, Fifth Angel]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-03-24T00:26:13.066000+00:00

Chapter 33

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After closing the document and storing it in a secure file, Jack shut down his computer and searched through his duffel bag for a different set of clothes and a windbreaker. Hyped up by the existence of his letter and the sense of justice it would bring to the parent of another victim, Jack hurried outside. There was a slight incline down to the main loop and Jack put the Saab in neutral, letting it roll away from the cabin. When it stopped, he started up the car and rolled down the windows to listen. The engine purred quietly, making less noise than the sound of crunching gravel beneath the tires.

The driveway -- he knew from a small map given to him when he checked in -- was a broad semicircle whose other end would take Jack to the highway without having to pass the main house. Nevertheless he crawled along with his headlights off until he came to the road. His hands trembled and he gripped the wheel tightly, forcing himself not to speed and breathing deeply in order to better concentrate on his impromptu plan. The sickening fear had crept up inside him, trickling into his core like a cesspool. He was going to kill someone and he couldn't stop it. Even more, he felt compelled to do it. He found the bottle of Maalox but put it down untouched. The grinding in his gut would keep him alert.

When he passed the inn and Tom Conner's house he began to search for an appropriate place to pull off the road. Less than a quarter mile away he came to a gas station. There were several cars lined up outside awaiting repair, and Jack pulled in next to them. For several minutes he sat in the darkness, looking and listening. The engine ticked; otherwise all was quiet.

He got out of the car and circled the building, searching for signs of people within. Satisfied that the place was just a garage, he went to the trunk of the Saab and removed a pair of leather driving gloves and then his gun and holster from its metal case. The road was empty and Jack reached the driveway to Tom Conner's house in just a few minutes.

He looked up the winding path at the old house that rose like a canker from the hilltop, gaping down upon the road and the inn across the way. Jack felt his face tighten into a grim mask. He looked around and then climbed the hill, quiet except for his own heavy breathing. As he reached the top, he could see a dilapidated green panel van parked next to the side of the house. Fresh tire marks in the sand told him the van was in use and suggested that Tom Conner was at home. He moved closer to the house, removing the pistol with its weighty silencer from the holster beneath his arm.

The stillness of the run-down old house surrounded him like a heavy mist, pressing him from all sides.

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