M.B. McDonough, author of “Head on a Swivel”, lives in Upstate New York and specializes in crime fiction and police procedurals. His work has previously been published by The Mystery Tribune (see “The Jacumba Translator”).
Eddie Daniels focused as his thumb moved the blinds open half an inch. He was mindful to not disturb the set. The street outside was quiet. He recognized most of the cars parked on the street but not the black Ford Explorer behind his neighbor’s pickup truck. He squinted his eyes to make the outline of a driver and a passenger through the windshield’s reflection.
Today was the day. It had been over two years since Eddie became a fugitive. Life on the run was hard but it was easier than life in federal prison. He tried to figure it out, but he couldn’t guess how they had found him. When the podunk sheriff’s office in Mississippi missed the federal detainer and allowed him to make bail, Eddie vowed to never go back to prison. He had already given over seven years of his life and was not giving any more.
Eddie had the fugitive life down to a science. He lived and breathed cash only ventures. No banks or credit cards for him. He only used burner phones that he could buy at local supermarkets and dropped them every few weeks. Eddie hadn’t seen his mother or brother since they came to visit him in prison.
Eddie had the fugitive life down to a science. He lived and breathed cash only ventures.
Everyone in Eddie’s current circle didn’t even know his real name, they just called him “Rush.” He was always tight lipped with details of himself and kept interactions minimal. He didn’t let anyone know where he lived. Eddie didn’t drive, he mostly took the bus. If anyone dropped him off, he would have them drop him at the bus station in North Houston, nowhere near his new adopted neighborhood.
It wouldn’t be long before the cops made their move. Eddie left the window and went into his bedroom. He slid open the top drawer of his bureau. Eddie pulled out a black Glock 23 from under his crisply folded briefs. He didn’t know a lot about guns, but he knew the .40 caliber Glock was what cops carried.
If it was good enough for them it was good enough for him. Eddie slowly pulled back the slide with his thumb and index finger and peaked in the opening to make sure a round was in the chamber. He tapped the bottom of the handle with his palm to make sure the magazine was seated in place. Eddie slipped a couple of spare magazines that he had already loaded to capacity into his pocket.
Eddie kneeled in the bedroom’s doorframe where he could see the front door down the hallway. His mind returned to where his misstep could have been. He had lived with his head on a swivel, never leaving an opening for law enforcement. He lived in a busy area of Greenspoint where he was surrounded by apartment complexes. Nobody knew their neighbors in Greenspoint. The fact that he kept to himself wouldn’t stand out. It hit Eddie like a cold slap. He called his ex a week ago on their son’s birthday. He was due to drop his phone this week, but he hadn’t done it yet. He had blocked his number when he called her but if she told the cops the exact time of the call, they could get the number from the phone company’s call records. That was all it took.
Eddie could feel their presence before the knock. The cops tapped with a casual rhythm, the kind of knock a friend would use when they dropped by. Not the type of knock the hit squad would be expected to use. He remained silent but raised his Glock to eye level. Eddie held the gun with two hands, not like they did in the gangster movies.
His left arm was locked out, fully extended. His left hand kept a tight grip on the base of the Glock while the web of his right hand wrapped around the back of the gun. Eddie closed his right eye, found his front sight and aimed in on the front door. His right index finger began pulling back on the trigger, removing the slack needed to fire. Eddie hoped they would just leave but he knew they wouldn’t. They were coming in.
The first hit with the ram splintered the frame but didn’t break through the deadbolt. It took two more hits before the door busted open with screws clinging as they hit the ground. The light from the open doorway beamed into the house like it was coming from heaven. The doorway stayed clear for what felt like an eternity. Then a head peaked quickly before retracting behind the wall. Another peak. Eddie could hear words but couldn’t make them out. The first man, gun in hand, took intentional strides through the doorway with a second attached to his hip. Eddie waited until he saw the third man enter the doorway before pulling the trigger continuously while guiding his sights. Today was the day.
*****
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