Nocturnal

The Stakeout

Bryan walked around the block for the sixth time. West on Jackson, south on Gough, east on Washington, north on Franklin. Then reverse, go back the other way. A slow walk, looking all around at everything, looking for places to hide.

There were eight- and ten-story apartment buildings on the other side of Franklin Street. He could go up on those roofs and watch the front of Erickson’s house. But big apartment buildings meant a lot of windows, and that meant any number of people could be looking out those windows at any hour of the night. If the archer wanted to enter or exit the big gray Victorian, he wouldn’t go out the front where so many people could potentially see. He’d have an exit behind the house, or maybe out on the roof and down the side … something hidden.

Bryan used his phone to call up a satellite map of the house and the block. The top-down view might give him ideas. Erickson’s house had a backyard, a pretty big one by San Francisco standards. Tall buildings surrounded that backyard, hiding it from view. Could he get up on one of those buildings? He flicked his fingers on the screen, zooming in on the map. There, on Jackson Street, a tree that looked taller than the building it was next to. He traced the route with his fingertip — if he could scale that tree, he’d be on the roof of a building that abutted Erickson’s backyard. Bryan would be four stories up, giving him a perfect view of the rear of Erickson’s mansion.

He nodded. Yes, that was the spot.

He couldn’t shake a persistent adrenaline buzz. This guy, this Savior, he was a real challenge.

Big game. He’s big game because he’s a killer — that flips all your switches and turns all your dials to eleven.

Bryan walked to Jackson Street to check his target. He slowly walked past his tree, following the trunk up with his eyes, seeing how he’d climb it to reach that roof. It wasn’t dark enough yet, but soon he’d circle back, climb to the roof, and set up his hunting blind.

Then the fun would begin.