by David Morgan
Chapter 12
Chad parked in a distant corner of the convenience store that neighbored the comic shop. The sun was quickly descending behind the buildings and the distant hills of town, casting long shadows on everything that surrounded him. Determined not to miss a beat, he set himself up with numerous energy drinks and food enough to keep him occupied on his stake-out.
He picked up his phone and dialed Randall.
“Are you in place?” He asked Randall.
“Yeah, I’m here, staking out Paxton’s—I haven’t seen any trace of him so far. It looks like his parents left earlier, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t with them.”
“You’re pretty sure? I need a bit more than pretty sure here, Randall. Are you certain?”
“Yes, yes,” Randall conceded, “I’m certain that he wasn’t with them. They were in the coupe—date night or something. Just the two of them. His mom was looking pretty good.”
“Yeah, she’s a total MILF,” Chad said, before catching himself acting ungentlemanly. “I mean—she’s a very lovely woman.”
“Yeah,” Randall added, “Boobs the size of my head.”
Chad changed the subject to a more appropriate discourse. “Okay—just keep your eyes open. Let me know if there’s anything suspicious. It’ll be dark in a few minutes.”
“Roger that.”
He dialed John in, but no answer. Could he really trust John to keep his word on this? He recalled the years of knowing John, and his corresponding distaste for doing things that he doesn’t want to do. He’d agree to do it—he always did, reluctantly—but then he’d get very easily distracted.
He dialed him again. Nothing.