Sunken Graves Alan Lee (reading e books .txt) 📖

Worst case scenario, Ms. Hathaway isn’t able to record anything useful and we have to bail her out, and a pistol would be handy. Best case scenario, Lynch gives me a reason to kill him.”

“You can’t just kill someone,” said Jennings.

“I would and I’m not being melodramatic.”

“What kind of pistol?”

“A revolver.”

“Caliber?”

“I’ve forgotten the number. A little one like the police used.”

“Probably a .38. What ammo do you have?”

“The cheapest.”

“Chances are you’d miss Lynch and hit someone else, Craig.” This was exactly how August had felt, scolding him.

“I’d only fire up close.”

Jennings was shaking his head. “Have you practiced at a range?”

“I have. The NRA held a basic pistol qualification class and I passed.”

“It’s not a good idea, Craig. Shooting someone, or shooting at someone, is entirely different from what you think.”

“I trust your judgment completely, Daniel. But I’m bringing the gun just in case. A last resort.”

Jennings pinched his eyes closed. “This is a bad idea.”

He felt Daisy’s hand on his shoulder and she applied warm pressure. “It won’t be dangerous, Daniel. Just scary, and I can handle scary. I have to.”

“Even if your plan works, there will be consequences. There are always consequences we don’t see.”

“We suffer consequences for inaction too,” said Lewis.

“It’s a simple dinner, except I’m recording it. I think he should pick me up and drop me off. If I feel like I’m in danger, I’ll walk out and leave him there.”

“I hate it,” said Jennings.

“I won’t get hurt. Please, Daniel.”

“If we do this…” Jennings shot the two men with his finger. “We’d be on a conference call outside relaying information. We need someone in the parking lot with a visual on Daisy through the windows. Someone else waiting in a car with a visual on our parking lot man, ready to pursue Lynch, and we’ll be tracking Daisy’s phone location too, just in case. The third man’s in a car within half a mile, on the route back to Daisy’s place so he can get there first and be ready. That’ll probably be me.”

“You’d rather not wait in the parking lot?”

“No,” said Jennings. “If Daisy’s getting a ride home, I want to be there when Lynch tries something in her driveway. I want to hit him.”

Murray mumbled, “Going all Green Beret on us. But fine, I’m in. We bust his ass, my job’s secure.”

Hathaway waggled her phone. “I already have his cell from the school directory. Should I call now?”

“No. I want you to sleep on it again. You can and maybe should still back out.”

She smiled at him, her hand still on his shoulder. “I won’t. We’re going to get proof. But I’ll wait to call until the morning.”

Murray let his head drop back against the wall. “Jesus help us."

“Amen,” said Lewis.

29

That night, Daisy lay sleepless next to Byron, who watched Dexter episodes on his phone.

Jennings lay sleepless with visions of Craig Lewis firing his pistol. He watched Lewis fire over and over, and the man kept missing, sometimes hitting Daisy, sometimes hitting him. Anytime Jennings was shot, phantom pain radiated down his left leg.

It was difficult to hit a moving target with a pistol and sweaty hands. Amateurs didn’t fully understand how difficult. And to stop a big angry man like Lynch, you’d need to knock several chunks out with a .38 using cheap ammo. Multiple shots meant multiple chances to hit someone else by accident.

It’d be better to kill Lynch in private, alone. Kill him and leave. Lewis’ pistol was registered, though. They’d need something the police didn’t have on file. Something like the shotgun under Jennings’ bed. It’d work better anyway, a single shell more than sufficient. One blast from the shotgun, zero witnesses, no one getting charged for murder…

Jennings laughed, a sniffing through his nose.

Morbid where his mind went after midnight.

Ten the next morning, standing in her backyard, Daisy called Peter Lynch.

“Good morning, Ms. Hathaway.”

“Good morning, Mr. Lynch.” Voice firm. She pinned her eyes onto an oak tree, ignoring the fact he’d known it was her—most likely he’d programmed her number into his phone. “Our school’s holiday banquet should have a theme, and I’m full of ideas. I can meet tonight at the new Bloom restaurant if you’d like to hear them.” She paused to listen. “Seven’s fine. Pick me up? I’m looking forward to it.”

30

Jennings drove around Bloom four times in his newly repaired Tacoma and he wished he’d investigated it last night. The restaurant sat on busy Main Street and touched the Wasena neighborhood, a maze easy to get lost in. There weren’t enough windows to suit him either. A tactical nightmare.

He took screenshots of his phone’s map and drew on them. He texted the screenshots and photos of the restaurant and surrounding environs to the gang of four. Lewis could post up here at the cute shops across from Bloom or pace here between Winona and Wasena Avenue, keeping Hathaway in sight through the front. He wanted Murray ready in his car here, at the Getty Mart intersection, where he would watch Lewis and would pull into traffic and follow Hathaway home. Jennings would be waiting in Grandin, halfway between the restaurant and Hathaway’s home, easy access to both.

Assuming the best case scenario, Lewis would alert them when Hathaway and Lynch walked out. Murray would follow in his car, and Jennings would easily beat Hathaway home, ready and watching her phone location on his screen. Lynch would drop her off and be unaware of the three men shadowing him.

There were multiple bad scenarios but he was ready.

She could be forced to walk out of the restaurant early, leaving Lynch—Lewis was prepared to escort her to the safety of Murray’s car.

Lynch could get frisky in her driveway—Jennings would be ready to get her out.

Lynch could drive an alternate route—Murray would pursue and they would track her on the map.

In other emergencies, Jennings could reach Bloom in four minutes. And Hathaway had the mace. Lewis, his pistol. All kinds of safety precautions.

But still, for the