In the Blink of An Eye by Jerry Baggett (ebook reader for surface pro TXT) 📕

the most productive twenty-five years, and he would make sure that someone pay. He believed the evidence proving him innocent was there waiting for him. Proving his innocence was secondary to his primary goal. He’d served his time and didn’t particularly give a damn about anything beyond his cause.

His defense attorney had been less than adequate during the trial and the evidence against him was considered overwhelming. His business attorneys proved themselves much better at their profession. His personal and business assets had been liquidated, spread out into established trusts, according to his plan. His personal wellbeing, of no concern, at this time. He had even been provided a new driver’s license with picture ID. Protecting his recognizable identity was his greatest concern. He was determined not to be looked at as another ex-convict troublemaker.

While in prison, he’d carefully followed the life and career of the woman through his attorneys. He knew her Aunt Clara had left her the home in Santa Monica, as well as the beach cottage on Catalina Island. The mainland home had been sold to pay for the girl’s education, including nursing school. Through his attorneys, with the aid of a private detective, he believed a large toy box, holding most of the girl’s childhood possessions and a few of her mother’s things, were stored in a storage facility in Santa Monica, the rest, on the island with the girl. Most had been with the woman’s furniture since the home had been sold. He knew everything depended on confirming that reasonable assumption.

He was tired, but his mind refused to leave him alone. The terrible night of the woman’s killing still haunted him. He’d been there, alright, to visit the girl’s mother. She’d refused to see him. It had been easy for him to enter through the unlocked door. His finger prints were scattered throughout the kitchen where he’d been searching for what he now needed to get from the girl, herself. The woman had returned home with the little girl and gone straight to bed, with the child in bed with her. He’d planned on confronting her, face to face, after the child had been put to bed. He knew facing her while she was in bed would be a bad idea and slipped out the back.

He’d waited outside a couple of minutes, before going back to his car. He heard the woman scream, followed by three, gun shots. He ran back into the dark room, saw a man moving about. He appeared to be stuffing something into a child’s backpack, then throwing it into a large toy box. He yelled as the man ran past him, out the back door and disappeared across the dark yard.

He decided his own best option was to get the hell out of the area quickly. The damn neighbor from across the alley from where he’d parked saw him start his car and back out onto the street. He’d made it no more than five blocks before a police car pulled behind him, with the lights flashing.

He finally figured out the killer had known he was in the house and placed a bloody knife in the kitchen where he’d been handling items on the counter. He didn’t know about the knife until later. He couldn’t decide if the killer intended the gun be found. The police allowed the child’s things, including the toy box, be removed from the crime scene by Aunt Clara and the person helping her.

His efforts to tell the court what he had seen, failed. They had their man, their own scenario of events had played out, they didn’t believe him. His attorney demanded they find the toy box with the backpack and gun. It was not to be. The police said he disposed of the weapon after leaving the scene. Later, there’d been numerous reports of a prowler in the vicinity of the child and her Aunt Clara, leading to police protection. Only later had it made perfect sense to him. The knife was used to connect him to the murder. He knew more now. The killer wants his gun back and he wants the killer.

He knows who the bastard was working for and perhaps even the killer, himself. Everything had fallen into place, his last year in prison.

Chapter 8

He walked confidently through the front door of King Neptune’s Bar and Seafood restaurant and asked for the manager. He’d been there several times and liked what he saw. He sat down at the counter and waited for the owner. After his release from prison, Grant’s greatest pleasure had been stuffing himself with modern restaurant food, impressed, with the variety and preparation. It could be fun working here, he thought.

Tony Langston entered from the kitchen, wiping his hands. “Hi, what can I do for you?”

Grant extended his hand. “I’m Grant Davis. I retired from the US Coast Guard recently and I’m looking for something to keep me busy. I thought I might enjoy working with food preparation or something else in the restaurant business. Would you have something available or, perhaps, a suggestion?” He thought Langston might be in his early fifties, slightly overweight.

Langston looked at Grant for several seconds, taking him in from head to toe before answering. “How would you feel about pouring coffee, seating customers, you know, act as host for us during lunch and dinner? We need a second person during the rush. Our hostess gets a bit overwhelmed and stressed out from the pressure.”

“I could handle that. When do I start?”

Tony said, “Dress decently, the way you are now, and show up at four o’clock this afternoon. We’ll need a social security number and picture ID.”

Grant stretched out on the bed with his hands behind his head to think. Now fifty-eight, and reasonably healthy, thanks to the prison gym and his fortunate genetic makeup. The world had changed since his incarceration, with little effect