"If you want, I'll take you out there and show you the sniper that lives across the road from her house and has a bead on her every time she walks out the door."
Tryson froze. "You can't… you can't do that. The neighbors—"
Mark shook his head. "Or I can show you the trash collector that drives the truck and is one of ours. He passes her on her way to school every Friday. Terrible accident if he were to side-swipe that little car she drives… such a tragedy."
Tryson licked his lips. "Mark… please—"
"I can show you the ID on the teacher at school that is in my pocket and who's just looking for an excuse to take one of the girls—Diane's plenty pretty enough for him, and he enjoys his work. Takes it nice and slow. I'm sure Diane wouldn't though—"
The image of Diane in another man's hands
