He was standing across the street almost up against the woodline on a small patch of grass that bordered the forest and road. He was in a blue button-down shirt and matching blue pants. He stood there smoking a cigarette the white smoke disappearing in the light. Under his one arm, a similar blue ball cap tucked away. He was starring at the store across the street. He put the cigarette to his lips for another puff letting the nicotine sink into his lungs. Looking into the store, the clear glass that ran almost from the bottom to the top of the store. Six windows in total set in grey new concrete. One of the more newer stores, to the old slow town. To some a sign of progress, a step to modernization. He was standing opposite of it but he could still see inside the store. The rows of almost chest high shelves and display shoes on top of those shelves. In the windows there were more shelves, these shoes pointed to the street for a person walking by, maybe window shopping to see.

There was no large sign above the store, instead, it was painted across the window. Large letters in yellow bold writing went across the windows. Along with smaller writing that was newer and in white saying stuff like "Grand Opening Sale!" and "New Fresh In Stock!" in smaller lettering. On the single door was a smaller version of the name with the bottom half having the store hours. Hanging in one of the windows was a bright neon Open sign that hung off small black chains. He could see movement inside the store. There was someone in there, he knew who. He had been standing here for thirty minutes watching the store. No one had entered or left in that time. She was in there, alone. He had seen her before when he stopped by a few days ago. Alone, working the register. She was short and skinny, wearing a slim black dress that seemed too tight for her body. She had short curly black hair that seemed poofy.

He could feel a rush just thinking about it. His heart rate increased and he could feel it. A sudden quick rush as adrenaline was dumped into his bloodstream and like an uncontrollable fright, train rammed into his brain. He didn't move but he felt like he was bouncing all over. A sudden tunnel vision enveloped him and he lost all ability to see anything but the store before him. He sept his head left and right looking up and down the road before stepping over the white concrete curb and heading across the street.

Ryan woke up from his resting place. He didn't know how much time had passed although he did feel groggy. A side effect from being pulled out of what was a deep sleep. What happened? He didn't know and he didn't move to debate to go back to sleep. But something had awoken him, that was sure. You didn't just come out of deep sleep for no reason. An instinct that kept their forefathers alive in dangerous times. A smell? No nothing could be smelt because there was nothing to smell. Nothing touched him. No snake slithered up next to him to choke his throat while he slept. A sound then, a quick sudden single sound that waking him out of his sleep. A single sound that he would only hear once. Then what woke him, what sound? He woke with a start ready to pop up ready for action. A reaction that had been ingrained into him from his time overseas. He had been shot at a lot and despite the clouds in his head, the first shot got you up and moving, the second would clear the clouds.

But there was no second shot and he wasn't sure he even heard a gunshot. Maybe a backfire of a passing car exhaust that did one loud bang. Then he would have heard the low rumble of the engine as it passed. No, he woke up, woke up for a reason and woke up ready for trouble. So where was the trouble? He rose slightly looking out from his perch and across the road. If he had a sniper rifle he would be in what a sniper would have dreamed was his hold out. Perfect cover with the log as an easy gun rest for the muzzle of the rifle. He saw nothing. The street was dead, not a single car or person. He looked up, a little past noon, maybe one-thirty, maybe two o'clock. Midday and the street was surprisingly dead. A small town, normal for a small town to be dead on the midday of a weekday. This wasn't a big city, he had to remind himself and he curled back up drawing in onto the log resting his one arm on the log and drawing his chest above it. His feet were planted firmly in the dirt almost like a track star runner would before taking off. He was waiting to rehear the sound.

Across the street from him was a small shoe store, probably built in the past four years seeing how fresh and new the grey concrete was. He wasn't entirely sure and started there moved down the road till his view was obstructed by the green leaves of a tree. Something snapped his head back to the shoe store. Something in the corner of his eye that refocused his view. Movement, something that blew in the wind? Movement on a dead street that looked as if one stepped inside a photo, a moment is almost frozen in time grabbed him. Maybe a clerk and customer. That wouldn't be too odd, it was a store after all and that was the point of stores. Buying and selling well for the exchange of currency. Ryan left the old jacket there in the dirt coming out of the woods slowly. He could feel the tension around him.

A science teacher had once told him about energy transfers in a class. The potential energy that was, an energy that was stored and ready to be released was turned into kinetic energy. He could feel it. Feel it in his bones as that thought came back to him. Energy ready to burst ready to take off. Nothing on the surface showed it but he could feel every muscle ready to burst out to take off to work in a fraction of a second. He used very little of that energy to do his slow cautious walk to the road watching the store. He felt like a deer who heard a gunshot. Curious, looking in the direction of the sound locating the movement, but ready to spring to life and take off. Cautiously like a deer, he moved forward uneasy about the ground before him as if it would open and swallow him up. He took a breath and stepped off the curb now taking a glance further down the road. He could see a few cars parked along the curb. Two minivans and a white postal service truck. There were a few trees that helped give shade to the sidewalk, although he could see no immediate movement, no oncoming cars. No signs of any life once so ever.

He turned back to the store in front of him. The glass door swung open and a man walked out quickly. The blue button-down jacket he wore open and blowing in the wind. He kept his face down looking at the white concrete sidewalk as he hurried down the road. He was wearing a ball cap, the same color as the rest of his outfit. A dark navy blue. He didn't glance Ryans way once clearly in a rush. Now he was even more curious about the store. What was inside what had happened. Maybe the man had knocked over a display shelf inside and panicked. He bolted out of there out of pure embarrassment. But that small part of his brain said no. He moved across the street now. This is what got you in trouble before he thought, then again he was already in as deep as it got. He used his arm this time, not his hand to push the door open. An arm wouldn't leave a palm or fingerprints. He was suddenly met with a gust of cold air. As if the air conditioners wouldn't turn off until the middle of September beginning of October.

The store was dimly lit with an ironically same pattern floor as the rest stop. Bright white tiles that were was broken only by the seams that the floorers connected them in. It was also Dim. Like the windows were oneway mirrors used in interrogation rooms in police stations where other cops could watch the detective dance around a murder suspect. Only he could see out of them, tinted just enough to make the outside look darker then it was. Although outside looking in you'd never expect that. There were large LED overhead lights in the panel ceiling. Just about one every four boxes or so. A systematic placement that lit up the entire room, only dimmed by the plastic covering. Ryan did a quick sweep of the room left to right. It was lined with shoe socks and any other apparel typical of a shoe store. He looked to the register, from his angle he couldn't see. It was newer, not the old boxes that held the old display at the top for the cashier to read. This was a simple computer monitor, there was probably a small tower under the desk where it all plugged into. There was no cash draw that he could see and the square credit card reader up on the stand. It all looked normal. Except it wasn't, the box threw him off. Threw him off big time. It was orange the lid flipped open and one grey and white shoe out on the counter. Any employee of anywhere seeing that wouldn't have left it there. It would be put back returned to a place on the shelf.

He stepped closer now taking his time knowing full well to rush was to miss a detail that could save his life. He swung around the counter and saw it. With a gulp of air, his mind nearly imploded with what happened. She was short, skinny with curly black hair. His mind flashed back to the original scene, the woman lying motionless on the ground rolled onto her side, covered in red blood. Then just like that like a flick of a light switch, he was back. Near where he was standing he could see two brass-colored shell casings on the ground. He hadn't noticed them before, at least not at the other scene. It looked identical in almost every way. Shot to the head with what he knew for a fact was a twenty-two caliber because he was looking down at the small shell casings. Shot in the head twice. The standard double-tap to insure death. He knew he had done plenty before.

She had a clear hole in her head, dead. The cash register busted, pried open and broken into. Different store, different place, same scenario. He could even picture where the killer stood when he pulled the trigger combined to where she stood. Back to him, not knowing that her life was to be snuffed away. No, he corrected himself, Stolen. She was young as well maybe twenty-six, still very young. Her whole life ahead of her still. He paused, dead in his tracks his mind slamming into a brick wall. What had awakened him? He spun on his heels and nearly busted the door down on his way out. Body slamming the glass that sent it flying open. The man leaving, He had just left. Entering outside into the street he didn't look just spinning and running down the road. Only the man was nowhere to be seen. He stopped on the corner of the road and looked around. Nothing, a dead street of a quiet town. He ran his hand through his hair.

"Son of a Bitch" he mumbled doing another sweep