The Breach

VERSE IV
AN OCTOBER NIGHT IN 1992

Travis discovers immediately that he's gotten a lucky break. His car, which has come to rest against the entertainment center at the back wall of the living room, has pinned the couch and its occupant against the big-screen TV. Manny Wright, six-foot-five and maybe four hundred pounds. The homeowners' bodyguard, and the only one who lives in the house with them. His back is broken. He's trying to move, trying to reach the.44 holstered at his waist. But he can't.

Travis wonders if Manny was the one who actually carried out Emily's murder, on orders from above. Then, because the answer is obvious, he stops wondering. He raises the.32 to Manny's face.

Manny can't get enough breath to say please, or no, but his eyes say both. Intensely. And in vain.

Travis puts the gun next to Manny's right eye, pointed sidelong across his face, and fires. The hollowpoint shreds both eyes and the bridge of the nose, leaving a ragged, bloody crater, and to Travis's deep satisfaction, Manny gets enough breath to make some noise after all. The man's scream is plaintive, full of self-pity, with the same stresses and tones he might use to scream "Why?" over and over. Travis wishes he could stand here for an hour and listen to it.

Instead he stoops, takes the.44 and leaves Manny to die like that, blind and screaming.

Manny isn't the reason Travis has come here tonight. The house's owners, the people who made the choice to kill Emily, are the primary targets.

Travis goes to the broad, stone-clad hallway that leads to the master bedroom, where his own mother and father are waiting.