It had been something like three days since I started the stakeouts and nothing. I was pretty much living off of junk food and energy drinks; but even so, I still nodded off for a few hours here and there. The longer this drug on, the more futile it seemed, and I began to worry I had missed her.
Wait, I straightened up in the seat and quickly wiped the moisture off the windshield. There was something moving just inside the edge of the forest. I couldn't make it out, but a leaf here, a branch there, moved as something carefully made its way toward the street. The movement was low, maybe footsteps—Crap! A fat house cat sprang out of the underbrush and darted across the street, just my luck. I hadn't even noticed the police car round the corner behind me until it pulled up alongside. I peeled back the Jeep's plastic window.
"You Jason Whitaker?" The police officer said, he motioned toward me with the radio microphone.
"Yes, sir."
"Yep Chief, says he's Jason."
"The Jeep got Maryland tags?" Chief Swan's voice came over the radio.
"Yep."
"Ask him what he's doing?"
"Chief wants to know—"
"I'm taking in the scenery," I lied.
"Says he's sightseeing, Chief."
"Tell him to move along or ol' Mrs. Anderson is liable to take a pot shot at him."
"Ten four, out." The policeman glared at me and pointed toward the house I was parked in front of. Sure enough, there was an older woman standing on the porch with a shotgun. "You heard the Chief, move along."
"Right." I started the engine and eased away from the curb. The cruiser followed me until I reached the main road.