Page 31 of Survivor
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Stranger
A perky blonde reporter stood at an intersection beside a stop sign. The street sign above it read, Devonshire, with a star in the middle at the top. The man glowered but watched and waited to see if the stupid bitch would say something, anything, that would lead him to the kid, the one that got away.
“With the ten-year anniversary of the murders that rocked this peaceful, affluent neighborhood just south of Dallas mere days away, we’re reminded of the survivor, young Taylor Langford, and continue to keep him in our hearts and prayers. Later this week, I’ll be interviewing Sergeant Rand Davis with the Dallas County Cold Case Squad to talk about the decision to reopen the investigation into the murders of Sean and Emily Langford.” Little Miss Perfect droned on but he’d tuned her out.
So, they’re still trying to figure out what happened, who did it.He laughed out loud, unable to contain his glee. They were in for a huge disappointment. He was entirely too good at what he did to leave behind anything tying him to the murders. Oh, to be a fly on the wall if the DPD ever figured out that the killer they’d invested so much time into finding had spent the past ten years in a jail less than a hundred miles from Devonshire. In the early morning hours, after he’d slit their throats and calmly left the home, he’d been pulled over for a broken taillight and arrested. The alias he’d been using at the time was several years old, and a warrant for assault with a deadly weapon was still tied to the name. It pissed him the fuck off, having to spend a decade of his life behind bars because he’d angered the powers that be and was being taught a lesson.
Using his obligatory phone call the morning after being handcuffed and escorted to the DPD, he’d called his boss who quickly reminded him that he’d gone against a direct order. “You were told to stand down, to let it go and not go after the Langford family. Since you decided that you didn’t need to follow that order, I’ve decided I don’t need to bail you out of jail. Sit there, deal with it and learn from it. When you get out in five to ten, call me and we’ll talk.”
“Son of a bitch!” He could remember slamming the phone down, then trying to tear it out of the wall before the guards were on him, dragging him back to the holding cell. The man had been true to his word, hadn’t even sent a decent attorney for representation. That being said, his account at the prison exchange always carried a balance of at least three figures. So essentially he was gone, but not forgotten. Initially, he’d fallen asleep at night with visions of gutting his boss like a fish and slept like a fucking baby. But ten years staring at three walls and a door of bars had softened his temper. He had disobeyed a direct order. And though he’d been stuck without the ability to come and go as he pleased, in retrospective, he likely deserved his punishment.
So, he bided his time, keeping his eyes open, mouth shut, and ears close to the ground. The library and the internet were excellent tools with a wealth of information to be had. All his spare time was spent keeping track of three people: The man he’d worked for prior to his ten-year stint in jail. The cop that had found the boy that had been right under his nose the entire time. Perhaps he had been too involved, and going after the boy, despite being warned, deterred his instincts that night. Regardless, he’d kept track of the cop, Frank Moore, because the boy became a permanent fixture in the officer’s life. Lastly, Taylor Langford, the survivor. He’d never missed a mark before, and it chapped his ass that the boy had made it out of the house alive.
Something Perky said drew his attention back to the television. “Taylor Langford, who was eventually adopted by his foster parents, Valerie and Charles Stone, recently graduated from The University of Texas at Austin after obtaining both his Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Social Work and plans to become a social worker so he can help other children like him.”
Hot damn, he did so love modern technology. “Valerie and Charles Stone, eh? I bet they can lead me to Taylor.” He cackled. “Watch your back, kid, I’m coming for you.”
