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Chapter One Hundred-Eighty-Nine
Point of View: Narrator


Leon had fallen asleep watching the court coverage on TV. He was sprawled across Nick's couch in Tennessee, one of the cushions pulled under his head as a pillow. He'd dipped into a light dream. In it, the door bell rang and when he opened it, Nick Carter was on the other side.

He awoke with a start at the sound of a car door slamming. He sat bolt upright on the couch, and glanced at the TV. On it, some woman was bustling about the court returning from a recess. They showed some footage of Nick returning to the courtroom, a perplexed look on his face.

Leon reached for the remote control as a second slamming car door reached his ears. He muted the TV and listened closely. He could hear footsteps on the gravel through the open living room windows. He hunkered down on the sofa, peering carefully over the arm.

The silhouettes of two officers wandered by the windows.

Leon looked around - he had to get the hell out... now.

Outside, the two officers examined the house. Other than the open windows, it didn't look like anyone had been here in awhile. The grounds were unkempt and the mailbox by the front door had a notice taped to it that the mail was being held at the nearest post office until further notice.

"Everything looks okay here," muttered one of the officers.

"Well, the windows," pointed out the other one.

The first inched to the door all the same and grabbed the knob. It turned easily. He looked at the second officer and nodded.

They slid into the room, drawing their weapons as they went, their feet quiet on the carpet. The TV cast a blue glow into the foyer from the living area, and the second officer nudged the first. They moved toward the living room.

But once there, they found only the glow of the TV on a warm, but empty couch as the curtains fluttered in the wide-open window.



Leon bolted down the driveway. His heart was racing - he'd nearly been caught. He'd had no time whatsoever to grab anything, and the gravel driveway hurt on the bottom of his barefeet, the stones poking into his arches. When he reached the end of the driveway, he dropped to the ground and leaned against the stone wall that lined the property, allowing himself time to breathe. Those guys would search every nook and cranny of that house before they determined that he wasn't there and come looking for him. By then, he'd be long gone.

The oxygen exiting his lungs burned his throat and he closed his eyes. He'd almost fucking let his opportunity to get to Nick slide between his finger tips. There was no way in hell he'd ever get the opportunity to kill him if he himself was in jail. No way at all.

The sound of another cruiser's siren made Leon jump to his feet. Maybe they'd called for back-up, extra eyes to search, he realized, and he broke into a light jog, trying to look casual, as he pulled up the hood on his sweatshirt, and started off down the road, away from Nick's house.

The cruiser passed him by, too intent on its destination to notice the morning jogger who'd left home without his sneakers.