Previously: Fortunately, he hadn’t used his issue Glock .40 caliber pistol, but his personal Colt .45. That pistol was registered nowhere—he’d confiscated it from a drug-runner—a drug-runner he’d summarily executed with his own gun.
He knew how to sanitize the gun of all fingerprints and DNA. He would do that somewhere away from the cabin. Stepping carefully around Kiwi’s body, he went to his car just as the rain began to fall.
Sometimes the weather cooperates. This rain, along with the hard gravel of the parking area and driveway, would obliterate his car’s tracks.
He was smiling as he turned back on Historic Highway 61. Continue reading