Chapter 1

Lester Jeffrey was shivering. He wasn’t sure whether it was from the sub-zero temperature or the fear that was building up inside of him. He glanced at his watch. He still had about fifteen minutes to wait.

The park is very desolate and deathly quiet this early on a Friday morning. The only sound Jeffrey was aware of was the rhythm of his own breathing. In the early morning twilight, he could see every exhaled breath turn to a small cloud in front of him. There was no wind, no birds, and certainly no people. The only other noise he heard was the occasional early morning commuter driving past on nearby Alpine Road. He hoped it stayed that way.

In a futile attempt to get warm, he moved back and forth, shifting the weight of his six foot, one inch tall body from one leg to the other. His coat was of knee length and covered the sweatshirt he had on below. Pulled down low, just above his eyebrows, was a stocking cap covering his close cut brown hair. A pair of rubber over-boots covered his everyday shoes. Buried in his coat pockets, his hands were protected by a pair of thin, black gloves. Inside his right pocket, through the glove, his hand could feel the cold, hard steel of a pistol.

He had studied Bill Ryberg for several weeks to learn his routine. He knew, like clockwork, that Ryberg would be in Alpine Park that morning to walk his dog. Ryberg always took the same route, and Jeffrey had it memorized. Today would be the day. The cylinder of the revolver was fully loaded with six bullets. Jeffrey would only need one.

What am I doing? Am I really going to do this? Am I prepared to handle the consequences? Have I thought of everything?

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He felt sick and thought he may have to vomit. Near gagging, he swallowed hard and forced himself to not be sick. He couldn’t let that happen. He focused on his discipline – breath, mind and body. Through many years of focused and concentrated martial arts training, he had learned and mastered the art of Ki. He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to be deep and regular, holding each breath until he had control. Not until then would he let it out. Several minutes of this exercise put Jeffrey into a semi-meditative state. Having regained his discipline, he opened his eyes.

Jeffrey glanced again at his watch.

“Should be anytime now,” he said silently out loud.

A light snow had begun to fall. Jeffrey looked at the children’s play area of the park and focused on the swing set. His mind drifted back to his childhood, remembering many sunny afternoons romping with his parents in this park. For what seemed like hours, his father would push him on the swings while his mother sat in the grass and watched. There was always plenty of food, and a ball to kick around. Sometimes, some of his father’s work friends would join them. Many times the afternoon fun would continue well past sunset. In a bizarre way, Jeffrey found it fitting that his encounter with Ryberg should happen here, at the very place Jeffrey and his parents had spent so much time together.

His head jerked around as he heard a car door slam shut. He saw that Ryberg’s car had pulled into the parking area. Ryberg and his dog, a chocolate labrador retriever, were out of the car, and had started on their little trek around the park. Jeffrey took a step further back into the shadows and waited. It wouldn’t be long now.

Jeffrey watched as Ryberg led his dog up the hill on his right towards the parking garage of the nearby shopping center. They then walked across the levy, moving from Jeffrey’s right to left. When they reached the end of the levy, on Jeffrey’s far left, they came back down the hill, towards the picnic area. Occasionally along the walk, Ryberg stopped to allow the dog the opportunity to sniff a tree, relieve itself, or bury its nose in the snow.

Whenever the dog had spent too much time in one spot, Jeffrey would hear Ryberg say, “C’mon, Bosco,” with a jerk of the leash.

When they reached the picnic area, Ryberg sat down on a bench and lit a cigarette. The dog laid down with its head between its front legs. It was a different day, but the routine was the exact same.

Ryberg wore a jersey type jacket with the Chicago Bears insignia. His white socks were visible below his faded blue jeans, which were about an inch shorter than they should have been. He wore a pair of newer looking leather athletic shoes and leather gloves. He had on a black baseball style cap with the letters RPD on the front. He coughed loudly and hoarsely on a regular basis. From his vantage point, Jeffrey could tell that Ryberg’s breathing was labored as he walked around the park. Any hint of physical conditioning or athleticism on Ryberg’s five foot, ten inch frame had long since vanished and sunken into a maturely rounded middle aged paunch.

When he finished his smoke, Ryberg crushed out the cigarette butt and flicked it off into the snow to his right. Simultaneously, he and the dog stood up. They walked along the edge of the picnic area where the park meets a small tree line. Jeffrey was hid behind one of the larger trees. Bill Ryberg and his dog walked towards Jeffrey. Unbeknownst to Ryberg, it would be the last time he ever walked his dog in Alpine Park.

As Ryberg walked closer, Jeffrey again thought about his pending actions. Again he started to shake and feel sick. He wasn’t sure he could go through with this. His right hand tightened on the grip of the pistol.

“Get control,” he demanded of himself.

He thought of his parents, and how he had been deprived of so many good years with them. Motionless in the shadows, peering from the side of the tree, he watched as Ryberg approached.

Ryberg passed the tree Jeffrey was standing behind. Jeffrey took a deep breath and stepped from the shadows and came up behind Ryberg.

“Bill Ryberg,” Jeffrey said. He was about six feet behind Ryberg.

Ryberg turned around with a startled look on his face, but said nothing.

“Are you Bill Ryberg?” Jeffrey asked more sternly while taking a step forward in Ryberg’s direction.

“Who the he11 wants to know?” Ryberg asked defiantly.

“I do,” Jeffrey responded forcefully as he pulled the gun from his right pocket and pointed it at Ryberg’s midsection. His hand was noticeably shaking and his breathing was rapidly out of control. His mouth was getting drier by the second, and his heart felt as though it was about to beat out of his chest. Lester Jeffrey was scared, real scared.
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Can I go ahead and get your autograph?!

Good job.........

And by the way, I am looking for proof readers....

folks who would be willing to spend countless boring hours reading over incoherant ramblings of an unappreciative task master.

Actually, if anyone wants to look at some of the chapters as they are available, I really would appreciate it. I have plenty of volunteers in my family/friend network, but I think I might get considerably more honest feedback from people that don't personally know me.

And yes, part of the book takes place on Bonaire.

I am about 15,000 words into it right now, which is about 20-25% of what I think it will be.

Thanks.

Interesting....what happened to the Bon book?

Dave, you are becoming a wrighters bitc*, teas us and play with us, then leave us hanging.... Glad I don't know where you live.... Good work Dave!
I feel a slap coming. Blame it on the nyquil, and a bottle of wine. I love you Freddie

Kristi,

Same book... it starts in the States and ends up on Bonaire.

KIV, I need you back home

Dave, keep up the good work.

Night kids, the Nyquil is kicking in.... Lucy in the sky with diamonds.....

Dave, I have proof-read (in my work as a graphic artist) for 28 years... I'll do it. I'm always looking for good stuff to read, and I think I just found it!!
I proof-read EVERYTHING!! I know, I always spell "lite", "rite" and anything else I can shorten, but I know I'm doing that...

Dave, would be honored to read anything you send my way!! I am GREAT at opinions but I cannot say I qualify as a proof reader....

PegiSue & Kristi,

By all means I will take both of you up on your offers. I believe Freddie had volunteered in the past, so I will blind side her also.....

PegiSue, the e-mail on your profile: Is it the one you want me to use?

Kristi, I didn't see an e-mail address on your profile. Could you supply me with one?

Thanks a million. Still open to any other volunteers......

I am here Dave and will give it a try.. I have done this before.. a few things that you have to make clear for all of us is just what do you want us to do?? Just read it and give you our opinion?{ which I did for a friend who went on to publish.}, highlight mistakes in spelling,grammar,etc. or something else?? please be specific for our sake and yours...

Freddie,

I agree.

My plan was to send an e-mail to all involved addressing all of those issues, and more.

And believe me - I don't expect anything from anyone. This is all on your time and the best I can hope for is anything you choose to comment on.

If you don't have time or don't want to comment, then fine. If you decide to quit half way through, that's fine too.....

And I'm not going to swamp everyone on a daily basis or anything like that. I will dump some chapters to everyone once in a while and see what you think - if you have time.

This is a new "adventure" for me, so I am kind of feeling it out as I go along.

I'll get an e-mail out in a short time.

Again, I am very thankful.

Dave, yes, the email on my profile. I will just proof it like I would any other manuscript/copy... I don't know any other way... It's all good!

Dave, I'd be happy to proof read as well, if you are still looking for extra sets of eyes. Email me through my profile.

In fact I was going to rib you a little about how Jeffrey could say something silently out loud...

Becky H,

Now that's what I'm talking about!! Good catch....

I've read that chapter 100 times and it never hit me.

I will send you the info I sent the others.

Thanks.