The kitchen light was on. Kate’s car was parked on the pad down from the garage. His view of the front porch could not have been better. The ground was cold beneath him. He could feel it pressing into his thighs, curling up to his balls.Fox shifted. The pressure was getting worse.The pressure that Kate caused him.He wished for a night sighter. The infrared detector washed the landscape in green light, making it possible for you to see the enemy while the enemy only saw darkness. During the war, Fox had used a scope-mounted sighter to track his prey. The enemy was clever, but technology eluded him. Sometimes, Fox would follow a man through the dark jungle for hours. The green light tracked his every move. Fox would watch the target pause, check his surroundings, stop for a meal, take a piss against a tree—all without knowing that Fox was watching.Which was what Fox was doing now, if only for a few more minutes. He couldn’t see his watch, but he estimated from the way the moon hung in the sky that one day was slipping into another.He needed rest.
