"It was after ten that night when the Dodge sedan stopped next to the curb. Two shadowy figures eyeballed the single-story home and the blue Toyota SUV parked in the driveway. Light shined through slats in the blinds of an enormous picture window about five feet from the front door. To the right of the door were two side-by-side windows, both lit up.
“Are you sure this is his house? It looks different at night,” the driver said.
“Damn right, I’m sure.” The passenger laid the rifle barrel on the edge of the window.
“So now what?”
“We wait until the son of a bitch walks in front of that window.” The passenger shifted in the seat to get a clear field of fire right at the window. “Then boom. One dead cop.”
A silhouette grew larger as it moved closer to the window.
The barrel of the rifle rose off the edge. “Get ready,” the passenger said, easing the finger inside the trigger guard and onto the trigger.
“Just make sure you kill him. I’ll worry about the car,” snapped the driver.
“Come closer, Scarsdale. That’s it. C’mon. A little more.”
The silhouette bent down out of sight.
“Dammit,’ the passenger said, raising up to see the entire window.
The driver looked in the outside rear view mirror then the one over the dash. “We can’t sit here all friggin’ night. Next time, take the damn shot.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“If the cops show up, we’ll have a lot to worry about.”
The silhouette re-appeared.
The scope’s crosshairs centered on it.