Forty-Five
Lex shifted closer to the driver's door. He was parked behind the implement company, near a row of green combines. From where he sat, he could keep tabs on the highway traffic, the park, the drive-inn. And if he craned his neck, he could check the employee parking spaces at the grocery store.
He tapped his trigger finger against the loaded gun, half listening to the police scanner on the seat beside him, half listening to the intercom from the implement company. Spring planting time.
An employee, dressed in typical work shirt and pants, opened the back door again. The guy had come out two other times: once to empty trash into the dumpster nearby and another to get something from his pickup. Each time, he had noticed Lex sitting there. He had waved the first time. The third ti
