Page 68
Story: Witness 8 (Eddie Flynn #8)
67
Angel
Angel held the crosshairs on Flynn. His finger on the trigger, body perfectly still.
But Flynn wasn’t taking any chances.
He had merged into a tight crowd as soon as he set foot out of the Aztek, and stayed in that crowd until he got inside the court building.
Frustrating, but there would be another chance. A better one.
When Flynn left the court building, he would be walking toward the line of fire. That’s optimal shooting conditions. May as well be standing still, holding a target.
Angel waited.
He was good at waiting.
The hours ticked by and, on the hour, the clock tower bell rang. He was glad he’d brought the ear defenders. Without them his hearing would have suffered. If Flynn so happened to leave the court building on the hour, the chimes from the bell could be enough to put Angel off his shot.
Not with this head gear.
He drank water. Kept watch.
Waited.
His scope zeroed on the exit doors. A glass wall, with two doors in the center. He would need to wait until Flynn was out in the open.
Almost noon.
And there he was. Walking toward the exit.
Angel breathed slowly, bringing down his level of excitement. Settling his heart rate. He needed to be still for the shot.
Flynn stood in the lobby. It was definitely him.
Angel waited. No point releasing his shot now. Everything else was perfect. The sun was behind him. Raining down harsh light on the court building. It was like a spotlight on Flynn.
What was he doing? He was just standing there . . .
He resisted taking the shot. That was security glass. The bullet would likely penetrate it, but at this distance it would send the round tumbling. Maybe off course. Angel had seen that happen before. He couldn’t risk missing his target.
Flynn walked toward the exit doors.
Angel touched the trigger.
Then Flynn took something from his mouth and put it on a piece of paper. He stuck the paper to the glass wall of the court building and walked back into the lobby away from the doors.
What the . . .
Angel focused his sight another one degree. Zeroed on the page. There was something written there.
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