Free Ghost Light by Rick Hautala

edge of the counter, just like he had done to her sister. His anger was a sour taste that flooded the back of his throat, almost gagging him.
    “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. He hawkered deep in his chest and spit into the darkness.
    He was watching her so intently that he didn’t even blink his eyes until they began to water. Then, moving quickly, he reached up and grabbed the lowest branch above him and swung up into the tree. It had been years since he had climbed a tree, but the branches seemed to come into his hand of their own volition. The tree hardly shook with his weight and he scaled the branches, hand-over-hand until he was almost level with the second floor window.
    From this vantage point, the view still wasn’t that much better than it had been from the ground, but he could see into the bedroom enough to see Harry sprawled on the bed with his hands behind his head. He still couldn’t make out any of the features on Cindy’s face, but he could tell that they were talking. He couldn’t help but wonder what they were saying.
    Probably talking about me and how they’re gonna steal my kids away from me!
    Cocking his thumb up, he pointed his forefinger like a gun at the silhouette in the window. Squinting one eye to draw a bead on her, he held the pose for a few heartbeats, imagining that he was squeezing the trigger as he whispered, “Bang” and pulled his hand up in an imagined recoil.
    A grim smile of satisfaction spread across his face, but it froze there when he realized that another car was rounding the corner at the far end of the street and moving toward him.
    Shit! If these were the cops again, and if they caught him up in the tree like this, he would have one hell of a time trying to explain what he was doing. Being nailed as a Peeping Tom was one thing, but once they put it together that this was the house of his sister-in-law, he might be in for a heap of shit.
    The car was moving slowly up the street, well below the speed limit. Although he couldn’t see any markings or lights through the tangle of leaves, Alex was convinced that it was the police.
    Shit!
    What if Cindy had seen him out here and had called the cops?
    What if—somehow—they had known what he was up to and were just waiting to catch him?
    Or worse, what if they had finally found a hole in his alibi and were out looking for him to arrest him for killing his wife? He could tell, just by the way Cindy looked at him, that she didn’t buy the “accident” story. What if she finally convinced the police what had really happened?
    Holding his breath, Alex clung tightly to the tree trunk and watched as the headlights crept slowly closer. The car’s engine hummed with a low, steady purr. The headlights blotted away the darkness on the road like a slow-spreading stain. Tension wound up tighter inside him as the winding, buzzing sound of the cicadas rose louder in his ears.
    Just drive on by! he thought. Just drive right the fuck on by!
    The car slowed to a crawl. In the stark glare of the headlights, Alex could see the texture of every pebble, every subtle depression in the road. Shadows of trees and bushes as thick and dark as ink swept to both sides like parting curtains. He sucked in a breath and held it when he saw the array of lights and sirens on the roof of the police cruiser. He glanced quickly up at the lighted bedroom window to see Cindy— the bitch! —was still there, probably watching it all, just waiting to see him get nabbed. He thought she was, but when he looked closer, he saw that her back was turned to the window.
    Jesus Christ, just drive on by!
    The cruiser was moving less than ten miles per hour now. Even before it was directly below him, he heard the chatter of the two cops and the scratchy, static voice coming over their radio. The driver was resting his elbow on the opened window, and Alex could easily imagine that the hand inside the car was gripping a service revolver and was just itching for an opportunity