Hollowed Out

“Easy, pal.  Don’t let it drive you crazy.”

“How can I not, Butters?  Hell they were my friends.”

“We all know the risks.”

Roberson shifted away from Butters.  Old fart.  He always said crap like that like one of their guys going down was just part of it.  Roberson didn’t buy that.  Sure.  There were risks, but no agent should let it go so easily.  He shook his head.  No more weekends of partying with the boys.  It would just be sitting around with this wise ass until they put two more yahoos in.

Marcum was the second victim.  The killer caught him on his morning run.  Once again, ballistics indicated two shots from the same .22 Remington.  Marcum wasn’t shot while he was running.  The killer had been driving and stopped Marcum to ask him a question.  But Marcum was much like Bundrage and Roberson himself.  They didn’t respond to strangers.  Most agents didn’t.  So the killer must have caught the attention of each agent with something that would make them stop.  Roberson thought hard about what they could be.

The music was low inside Wally’s.  Usually was on a week night.  “Thirsty Thursday” would fill the place for about an hour and then they’d shut down early like they always did.  Wally didn’t like empty bars and wouldn’t allow his to get that way.  Roberson and his two dead colleagues would often show up to start their Friday nights before heading out to the city to see what they could get into.  That wouldn’t be happening tomorrow night.  Yesterday was Bundrage’s funeral and Marcum’s would be held on Saturday.  Of course, the obvious question was when this killer would strike Roberson himself.  He knew it would be soon.  The Bureau had their taps on his phone in place as usual and guards were near him as of an hour ago.  Two agents waited outside Wally’s for him.  But this guy wouldn’t be dumb enough to strike him outside the bar.  He was smart enough to get his friends’ attention and pop them just like that.  No such luck.

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