Chapter 3
Marcus Sharp peered through his binoculars from the inside of his black sedan at the heavily bearded man climbing out of his beat up old truck. Was this the man he and his partner have been searching for all these months? It looked like him, but Marcus couldn’t be sure. He’d have to take a closer peek. This man looked nothing like the clean-cut businessman on the wanted list. All the places where he expected to find Griffin Black had not turned up so much as a hair of the man. The only thing that man he was following now had in common with the 42-year-old business owner was the fact that he played pool. Everything, everyplace that the bearded man chose to visit or do, even the cigarettes he smoked would not be something that Griffin Black would do. At least, not the Griffin Black prior to the murder. Would Black have been so cunning as to read up on how police track down killers like himself?
Heaven help the man, if he is Black thought Marcus. Because if he is, then he is gonna nail that SOB so hard. Marcus Sharp hated all the guilty assholes he had to drag back to justice, but the ones he hated the most were the ones that preyed on innocent children. The bastard murdered his own child, and quite possibly a young girl too. He was a cold-blooded killer, plain and simple. That’s the way Sharp saw it. There’s no such thing as grey, only black or white. Right and wrong. Which is probably the reason why his wife left him. Good riddance. She made his life too complicated.
Sharp took a quick glance in his rearview mirror just as he was about to exit his car. His eyes were bloodshot from being on stakeout for a week and lack of sleep. But otherwise, his appearance was neat and tidy as always.
“This won’t do.” Sharp muttered to himself.
He was too neat. He shouldn’t have shaved. He’d never blend into the rough crowd that Black seems to have acquainted himself with. He quickly ran a few fingers through his hair, loosened his tie, and undid a few of his top buttons. There. Time to start doing some investigation, up close and personal.
Marcus had his hand on the door handle.
" You're not going in there like that are you?"
" Yes, I am." Marcus said impatiently. He had enough of sitting idle for a week with Tom.
" You look like a stock broker having a bad day. You'll blow our cover. Here. Put this on." Sharp’s partner grumbled, as he reached into the back seat and pulled out his old wrinkled plaid shirt.
Sharp cringed a little as he put the grime covered shirt over his ironed one, but he knew Tom was right. Normally, he wasn’t wreckless, but his target was so close, and he's been waiting so long for this moment.
" You're the only guy I know who wears a suit and tie on stakeout," Tom sighed.
"Enough already. Let's go."
And with that, the two men stepped out of their black sedan, their home for the past few weeks, and headed towards the bar and grill.
Heaven help the man, if he is Black thought Marcus. Because if he is, then he is gonna nail that SOB so hard. Marcus Sharp hated all the guilty assholes he had to drag back to justice, but the ones he hated the most were the ones that preyed on innocent children. The bastard murdered his own child, and quite possibly a young girl too. He was a cold-blooded killer, plain and simple. That’s the way Sharp saw it. There’s no such thing as grey, only black or white. Right and wrong. Which is probably the reason why his wife left him. Good riddance. She made his life too complicated.
Sharp took a quick glance in his rearview mirror just as he was about to exit his car. His eyes were bloodshot from being on stakeout for a week and lack of sleep. But otherwise, his appearance was neat and tidy as always.
“This won’t do.” Sharp muttered to himself.
He was too neat. He shouldn’t have shaved. He’d never blend into the rough crowd that Black seems to have acquainted himself with. He quickly ran a few fingers through his hair, loosened his tie, and undid a few of his top buttons. There. Time to start doing some investigation, up close and personal.
Marcus had his hand on the door handle.
" You're not going in there like that are you?"
" Yes, I am." Marcus said impatiently. He had enough of sitting idle for a week with Tom.
" You look like a stock broker having a bad day. You'll blow our cover. Here. Put this on." Sharp’s partner grumbled, as he reached into the back seat and pulled out his old wrinkled plaid shirt.
Sharp cringed a little as he put the grime covered shirt over his ironed one, but he knew Tom was right. Normally, he wasn’t wreckless, but his target was so close, and he's been waiting so long for this moment.
" You're the only guy I know who wears a suit and tie on stakeout," Tom sighed.
"Enough already. Let's go."
And with that, the two men stepped out of their black sedan, their home for the past few weeks, and headed towards the bar and grill.