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I pushed ht had reflected off the sniper’s scope Nothing there I touched my chin Blood stained my hand Facial wounds always seem worse than they are, blood-wise, but I needed to staunch the flow before I dripped all over one of my few decent shirts

The Gorilla Man stirred, his eyes still shut Tied run for the car

Chapter Twenty-Two

I etting shot at a second tiht direction Now, I needed to figure out what in God’s name to do next

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My mind spun with possibilities Focus, focus, focus—my current mantra

My first thought was to go to the cops And not just to report what I saw in Terry’s aparted phone under the bed, plus a sniper taking shots atTerry’s place out If so, why had Gorilla Man not followedfor Terry, too? His interest in n

That’s the thing about PTSD Your senses become too acute Even a person’s shadow ht have had no connection to the sniper

Did any of this have anything to do with ht’ve been sia (or some part thereof)?

As I drove away, n of anyone following me

A mile or tn the road, I turned onto a side street and pulled over I retrieved the notepad fro I remembered of the incident If I went to the cops, they’d want a state it noould keep the details fresh

I felt ain With all the excitement, adrenaline had masked the return of that blasted backache

I considered my options If I went to the police, what could they do if the Mob was involved? We hadn’t had any serial sniper shootings in the area since 2002 when two snipers terrorized the whole DC area and beyond And despite my concern about Terry, how likely were the cops tomy wealthy client’s wishes to keep the police out of it?

But then there was Melissa Did she fit into this picture anywhere? I’d already put inher and then so, too And the sniperaround

I knew for sure that soood sniper could have taken me out If the intent was to kill me, I’d be dead