Sam dabbed at the blood over his eye
before it ran down in between the lids again.
He blinked away the irritation,
pinpointing the woman through his pocket binoculars from his hire car across
the street as she drove down the drive. Twenty-six/twenty-seven, attractive,
thick wavy chestnut hair bobbed halfway down her neck; black crop top, bare
arms and shoulders, bare chest down to the curve of her breasts; slender neck,
pale skin.
The gates opened for her
electronically and she glided to the edge of the road then looked both ways.
The base of her neck looked soft. There were micro-faint blond hairs, barely
breaking the skin; perfectly rounded shoulders. She accelerated out into the
street and drove away.
Sam watched in the rear-view for a
second then span the wheel of his car, pressing on the accelerator and swinging
it round to face the direction she had gone. With a glance at the house where
Jack Catholic was staying, he pressed down harder on the gas and started to
close the distance.
He reached onto the passenger seat
and took hold of the handle of the baseball bat he’d purchased that morning in
a sports shop and slid it across onto his legs.
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