I hid in a clump of dark bushes, hemlock or yew or some shit like that, some clump in the neighbor’s yard where I could stand and watch for him. The lights went out in the windows and I still waited. I stood there for almost two hours and the more I stood there the more I thought I was an idiot, the more I knew I was one. Maybe it would be better to break into his house and wait, I thought, where no one could see me standing there in the bushes. I could wait for him in his own house. Maybe I’d be waiting there for days. Maybe I’d fall asleep and the wife or kids or whoever else was in the house would find me and call the cops. It was better to be in the bushes, but how long could I stand there? I’d missed my chance and he’d gone off somewhere safe. I would have some explaining to do. Maybe he would never come back.

I wasn’t cut out for this type of work. The doubts and the second-guessing began to pile up and I thought I should go home and regroup when a car pulled in front of his house and the target got out. The car drove off without waiting for him to get inside the house. They never knew I was there. He never knew I was following him. I’d been wrong about it all from the start. But that was okay. I made my way across the black lawn, with my knife out and ready. I had him just before he got to the front door and did the work Froehmer wanted. He let out a gasp when I got next to him, but he wasn’t afraid. Not for long anyway. I killed him with one blow, like a sheep.