Free Personal Justice by Rayven T. Hill Page B

easily, but I’ve never seen him get into an altercation with anyone.”
    “Just with you?”
    Tammy shrugged again. “I seem to irritate him somehow.”
    “It’s not your fault,” Jake said gently. “And it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
    Annie was browsing the police reports. She looked up. “Were you aware he owned a gun?”
    The woman shook her head adamantly. “The police said they found bullets in the basement somewhere. I don’t go down there often.”
    “And his fingerprint was found on a shell casing at the murder scene,” Annie said.
    Tammy’s eyes bulged. “I don’t believe it. He might’ve hit me from time to time, but he would never kill anyone.”
    “And a witness saw his car there.”
    Tammy was silent.
    “Now do you believe it?” Jake asked.
    Tammy closed her eyes and took a few quick breaths. “No, I don’t believe it,” she said.
    “How can we find him and prove he didn’t do it,” Annie asked.
    “I don’t know,” the woman said. “I honestly don’t know.”
    Annie put the printout back into the folder, tucked it into her handbag, then looked at Jake and stood.
    Jake pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it to Tammy. “Call us if you think of something that can help us find your husband. Or you can call the police.”
    Tammy took the card, stood, and followed them quietly to the door. “Let me know if you find anything,” she said.
    Annie promised her they would, and then followed Jake to the car and got in.
    “After all that,” Jake said, turning to Annie. “She still defends him.”
    Annie sighed. “They almost always do.”

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 16
     
     
     
    Tuesday, 2:54 p.m.
     
    THE MAN WAITED patiently, glancing at his watch more than once, spinning the cylinder on his revolver often, humming a nameless tune all the while.
    His quarry wasn’t at home and time was wasting, but he was being well paid for this job, so wait he would. As long as it took. He prided himself on getting the job done perfectly every time. And this time would be no different.
    From where he sat in the comfortable living room, he could see the driveway and half the street. He would know when they arrived, and would have time to prepare for the ambush that would earn him his pay.
    He looked at his watch again. He knew they had a kid, and if he got home from school before the job was finished, that could complicate things somewhat. However, he had no qualms about taking out the boy as well, if necessary. It would be the first time he ever killed a kid, but you have to start sometime.
    He smiled grimly as a car roared into the driveway. It was a big, shiny, red Firebird. They were here. He slid from the chair, circled into the kitchen, and waited. He decided the best plan of action would be to sit tight until they were inside, then step into the hallway and nail them both at once before they could react.
    He knew how important the element of surprise was.
    Then the car roared once more and he frowned. It sounded like they were leaving again. He circled back into the living room and eased to the front window in time to see the Firebird turn from the driveway and head up the street.
    Now what?
    And then a key rattled in the door and he froze. It must be the woman. The guy probably dropped her off and left again.
    He didn’t have time to get back to the kitchen. He would have to wait until she came in, then go into the hallway and take her out from behind. He didn’t often shoot people in the back. He preferred to see their face as they went down, but he would have to make an exception this time. It was either that or risk failing—something he never did.
    He ducked behind the chair and peered around. He could barely see into the hallway at the front of the house. He heard the door open, someone step in, and then the sound of the door snapping closed.
    It was a woman. He heard her singing softly. Some stupid ’80s song.
    He was faced with a minor dilemma. He could