Chapter 3
Thin gloves, clean and black, fingered a windowsill outside the Fleming home in the predawn darkness. Light was just beginning to seep through the clouds and rain, hinting that morning might finally drain away the night. It was as dark inside as out, but the black-gloved figure, peering through the window, could make out enough to see that the guestroom cluttered with tools less than twenty-four hours ago had been cleaned out. Whether a child-sized shape lay in the bed he could not tell, but it didn't matter. The room had been cleared, and that was all the information the figure needed.
They had kept the boy.
Satisfied—thrilled, actually—the figure slipped back from the window and into the shadows. His mind was already working to determine his next goal, provided that his plan continued to proceed well.
There was one person who could thwart his plan. He was far away for now, but would not stay away forever. What would the figure do when that man returned?
That question was easily answered: blackmail. He would threaten to turn the man in to the authorities. Granted, that would mean turning himself in as well, but it would be no idle threat; despite his aversion to men and women with badges, he would make good on the threat if forced to. But that other man would not force him to; that man stood to lose too much. The mere threat of blackmail would be sufficient.
The figure continued to refine his plans as he moved stealthily through the neighborhood. There were others—in addition to the one who could thwart him—who needed to pay for what they had done. Could he find out who they were? Probably. Then he would set about making things right, at least as well as he could. Even Robin Hood couldn't solve every ill of society, but he could fix some of them, make some things better.
The figure smiled to himself. His morning was off to a great start. His plan, in its opening phase, was proceeding well. They had kept the boy.
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The Boy Who Appeared from the Rain Page 14