Flash Shot

The Real Thing

Roger stared at the wall. Some of the tacked newspaper clippings were yellowed, curled at their edges, and as old as five years. Others were whiter, and dated as recent as two weeks ago.

Muffled words regained his attention.

He ripped the gag from the other man's mouth. "Where's the stuff you took from the women?"

The bound man laughed from the chair holding him hostage.

Roger raised his Glock. He squeezed the trigger. A bullet shot through the silencer aimed between the killer's eyes.

Roger had been just as much an expert in tracking down his copycat as he was in picking his victims.

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