He hoped for something that would prove wrongdoing, like maybe new dogs in muzzles or more overt abuse on the part of Whitaker.Maybe if he waited a little longer.
Chastain paused briefly in front of the door and looked directly at David.David’s heart sank to his feet, but the colonel’s eyes didn’t rest on him, instead moving over him as though scanning for threats.David watched, holding his breath.
After a few seconds, Chastain said something to Whitaker, and the two humans and their captive dog entered the facility.David released the breath he was holding and packed his camera.He had only a little bit of footage, not enough to come forward yet, but it was progress.
They weren’t going to stop him.He would come back every night and spy on them until he had enough to bring them to justice.He would find justice for these dogs no matter how hard they tried to stop him.They could break into his office, send him threatening emails, hell, they could send bruisers to hurt him.He didn’t care.He wasn’t going to give up on Sierra or any of the other dogs the 93rdTesting Brigade was using.
He switched the engine on and pulled carefully forward.With all of his lights off, he couldn’t see anything past his windshield, so he was relying on feel to tell when he left the dirt and pulled not the asphalt.Leaves and rocks crunched under his tires, snapping every few seconds with a jarring crack.
After a couple minutes, he felt his front tires grab something solid.He pushed the gas down a little harder, and after a brief chirp, the rear wheels caught and pushed him up onto the road.He turned north, rolling down his window and looking outside to make sure he was pointed the right direction before accelerating away.
He would keep his lights off until he crested the top of the hill.Past that, no one could see him from the facility, and he’d be fine to return home.
He frowned.Maybe not home.It might be better for him to call Rogers and Hammerton and tell them about the break-in at the Academy now.He didn’t need to tell them about his little adventure after, but he should probably take steps to keep himself safe, just in case therewasa hitman out looking for him.
Lights illuminated him from the rear.He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the bright spots of aftermarket LEDs.He rolled his eyes and switched his own lights on.No point in keeping them off anymore.
The lights of the truck behind him brightened as the asshat driving switched his brights on.David cursed and flashed his hazards, then pulled to the side.“Fucking asshole.”
He waited for the special boy to pass him, but the headlights remained pointed directly at him.His brow furrowed, and a small alarm sounded in his mind.
The truck kept coming.Its headlights should have curved to follow the road.
Instead, they remained pointed directly at David.
The alarm in his head turned into a screaming siren.
“Oh, sh—” he cried, slamming his foot into the accelerator.
Too late.The truck hit him first, lifting his Subaru completely off of the road.It sailed fifty feet through the air before crashing into the slope and rolling six times before coming to rest on its mangled roof.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dr.Patricia Houston rolled her eyes when she heard more thumping from the apartment below.She was trying to be a good neighbor, she really was.She didn’t want to be “that woman” and complain about noise, but for God’s sake, it was excessive.Shouting and arguing late into the night, shouting and screwing later into the night, kids running around all day, and the constant thumping and thudding like they had a pet rhinoceros and just let it have the run of the apartment.
This was what she got for not hiring a better lawyer.Her lovely cheating ex Clark got the house in the divorce, and since he had no assets to speak of other than the house, half of everything turned out to be enough to buy the furniture she needed to take an apartment in this not-quite-a-slum neighborhood.When her lease was up, she’d have enough saved to finance a house.It would be much smaller than the four-bedroom new build that was the only good thing about living with Clark, but it would be better than sharing a wall with a family of nine.
She took a deep breath, released it through her nose, and decided not to complain.Five more months.Five more months, and this wouldn’t be an issue anymore.
Another thump, louder.She threw her arms in the air and cried, “Oh for God’s—”
The bedroom window opened.She froze, arms still in the air.She tried to convince herself that she hadn’t heard what she thought she’d heard, but there was no mistaking the sound of an aluminum-rimmed pane of glass being slid up an aluminum track and held in place by two plastic shims that clicked when activated.
Then she heard footsteps, and she couldn’t even try to lie to herself.She turned around, face blanched.She reached for a kitchen knife and knocked the block over.Blades scattered on the floor, and she shrieked as one bounced and nicked her toe.
“Get out of here I have a knife!”she shrieked in one breath.
“That’s cute,” a gravelly voice replied.“I have a gun.”
He stepped into view, tall, muscular, a shock of wild hair above bloodshot eyes and a wide, crazed grin.In his hand was the gun, a small revolver, a .32, Patricia guessed.
Big enough.
All of her arguments with Clark rushed back.Patricia hated guns in the house, was angry every time she saw Clark cleaning one of those murder weapons.Now she was here about to be murdered by one of those weapons, and all she had to fight back was a damned steak knife.
“You don’t remember me, do you?”
The gunman sounded almost hurt.Patricia shook her head, tears streaming down her face.“Take whatever you want.I don’t have much, but it’s yours.Just please don’t hurt me.”
