by Glenn Trust
Title Page
The Hunters Series
Volumes 1-3
Eyes of The Predator
Sanctioned Murder
Criminal Enterprise
by
Glenn Trust
Copyright © 2014
The Hunters Series Set
Volumes 1-3
By Glenn S. Trust
All rights reserved
‘The Hunters Series’ books are works of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Products and services mentioned in ‘The Hunters Series’ were used to give realism and authenticity to the story. Their use in no way implies that the manufacturers or producers of those products or services agree with, or endorse, the author’s opinions on any subject.
This publication, in electronic and/or printed version, is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The publication may not be resold. Additionally, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. The publication may be shared through authorized lending programs with others according to the terms the author/publisher may have with distributors of electronic and/or print media. Otherwise, if you would like to share this publication with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this publication and did not purchase it, it was not purchased for your use only, or you did not receive it through a lending program authorized by the author/publisher, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
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Dedication
For the readers.
Thank you for sharing my stories and your time with me.
All the best - Glenn
Table Of Contents
The Hunters Series
Volumes 1-3
Title Page
Copyright © 2014
Dedication
Eyes of the Predator
Copyright © 2012
1. The Predator
2. The Girl
3. The Stalk
4. The Hunter
5. He Hated Them
6. He Just Was
7. The Closest Bug Lost
8. She Didn’t Go Home
9. Just Away
10. He Was Hungry
11. Rocking on the Porch
12. Appetizer
13. A Walk in the Woods
14. Ambush
15. Backup
16. Goddammit
17. A Search
18. Roydon
19. Driving Miss Lyn
20. Crime Scene
21. Way to Go George
22. Blank Eyes
23. Canada, Really
24. A Thud
25. A Sense of Well-being
26. The Crack
27. Lylee
28. Too Complicated
29. Things Less Clear
30. Gassing Up
31. Plenty of time.
32. Runaround
33. “Son of a bitch and Goddammit”
34. Crime Wave
35. Awakening George
36. Other Plans
37. “Jesus, Mary and all the Saints”
38. Ride This
39. Confession
40. Lions and Jackals
41. Orders
42. The Brothers
43. Clever Tommy
44. “Don’t do it son.”
45. Beth
46. No Place for the Girl
47. A Visit to Roydon
48. Coming of Age
49. Evidence and Guilt
50. Alone
51. Vernon’s Dilemma
52. Regrouping
53. “I’ll call you later”
54. Delicious
55. A Chance in Hell
56. Meeting of the Minds
57. Just His Day
58. The Hunt Begins
59. Pit Stop
60. Limit to a Brother’s Patience
61. Day’s End
62. Traffic Stop
63. Another Wake Up
64. Uncertain Status
65. California or Bust
66. Waiting
67. Someplace, Away
68. Taste of the Kill
69. Cy Would be Pissed
70. Soon
71. Getting Lucky
72. “Honey, we’re home.”
73. A Plan Materializes
74. Away In the Pines
75. The Plan Worked
76. Lunch Break
77. The Break
78. No Need to Complicate it
79. Not Yet
80. What the Hell
81. Confronting the Beast
82. To Hurt or Not to Hurt
83. Silence in the Woods
84. Done
85. Epilogue
Sanctioned Murder
Copyright © 2013
Day One
1. The Speed of Light
2. The Project Begins
3. Fitness Program
4. Warming Up
5. Sunday Naps
6. The Deep End of the Pool
7. The Fedora
8. Breaking Glass
9. Standing Guard
10. Done
11. Bittersweet
12. Complications
13. Work to Do
14. Something on His Shoe
15. Justice for Timmy
16. Hallowed Ground
17. Out of Line
Day Two
18. Such a Fine Place
19. A Bit Too Convenient
20. Cross Examination
21. A Fine Day on the Lake
22. Improbability Factor
23. One Cold Son of a Bitch
24. Find the Asshole
25. Uncomfortable Most of My Life
26. What Did You Get into Ray?
27. Nothing More Required
28. The Abyss
Day Three
29. Business Meeting
30. Uppity White Boy
31. A Wry Smile
32. Guess What
33. Standing At Attention
34. Let’s Call George
35. Busy Day Tomorrow
36. Imagine That
37. A Good Employer
38. Lightning and Tall Clouds
Day Four
39. Her Thoughts Went No Further
40. Loose Ends and Assignments
41. Thank God It’s You
42. Facts Not Conspiracy
43. One of Us
44. A Turd in the Punchbowl
45. That Lady GBI Girl
46. Always Thinking
47. Not at Liberty to Discuss
48. Family Problems
49. Georgia Boys
50. They Won’t Stop
51. How Unfortunate
52. What Was It Like?
53. Unanswered Questions
54. The Dance
55. Something Stronger
Day Five
56. Something Was Changing
57. Do What We Do
58. An Unpleasant Sensation
59. As Far
Away As Possible
60. Telling the Truth
61. It was a longshot
62. Uncomfortable
63. “He don’t trust us…”
64. Interesting
65. He was very motivated.
66. Good Name
67. Shit Rolls Uphill
68. ”I reckon so...”
69. He’s Got A Visitor
70. The Coincidences Kept Piling Up
71. He Already Regretted It
72. Promises
73. Just a Simple Killer
74. Sanctioned
75. Serious Consequences
76. “We’ll take care of it.”
77. Deadly Angel
78. Waiting and Watching
79. A Little Overdressed
Day Five - Conclusion
80. “I’m in.”
81. “Glad I could be your first…”
82. A Curious Sight
83. “I’ll bring the pen.”
84. He knew the Rules
85. “Shut up, Chuck.”
86. “I got this.”
87. Alone in the Dark
88. It Smelled of Life
89. Epilogue
Criminal Enterprise
Copyright © 2013
1. A Red-Orange Glow
2. Business and Prosperity
3. Families
4. Survive
5. Making Her Smile
6. Some Pay, Some Get Rich
7. A Nice Ring
8. Couple of Pussies
9. Going to War
10. Rednecks and Hornets Nests
11. A Good First Step
12. Our Shit Hole
13. You Can Count On It
14. We Do It
15. Business Details
16. Bobby Wasn’t Talking
17. The Rookie
18. Brotherly Love
19. Patient Men
20. Sounds Like A Good Deal
21. Always Cautious
22. Talking to Ricky Sanchez
23. The Logical Thing to Do
24. You’d Best Do It
25. Reaching the Light
26. A Clear Conscience
27. People to See
28. You’re Gonna Love It
29. Reality
30. The Size of Peas
31. Something Big
32. Ricky and the Brothers
33. Afraid of the Answer
34. We Have Something
35. He Did Not Like Snakes
36. I Have to Do This
37. That Answered That Question
38. The Irony Was Not Lost
39. She Would Do What She Had To Do
40. Seeing About Trouble
41. It Was Personal
42. Gaining Some Control
43. Misjudging the Sheriff
44. Nothing More to Say
45. Settling In
46. He Would Not Want That
47. Charcoal and Crackers
48. Sobering Thoughts
49. A Disagreeable Son of a Bitch
50. A Question
51. What Else Could He Say
52. Proceed
53. Betrayal
54. She’s Worth Somethin’
55. Agreed
56. The World
57. Merchandise
58. Bad Luck
59. See What You Can See
60. Black Water
61. His Favorite Word
62. Into the Twilight
63. We’re Gonna Talk
64. Somewhere
65. Fighting Back
66. A Buzzing Hornet
67. The Next Play
68. Squatting
69. The Moaning Ceased
70. A Longsuffering Man
71. I’m Going To Be Really Pissed
72. Helluva Thing
73. Their World
74. Epilogue
Author’s Note - Slavery Today
About the Author and His Work
Contact Glenn Trust
Eyes of the Predator
The Pickham County Murders
A Novel by
Glenn Trust
The Hunters Series
Volume 1
Copyright © 2012
By Glenn S. Trust as “The Hunt”
All Rights Reserved
The characters, events, locations and plot in this work are purely fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locations or persons is completely coincidental and unintentional. If you think otherwise, get over it. I made it all up and have the hangover to prove it.
1. The Predator
The gray eyes blinked and moved in a head that remained motionless. Sweeping the area, scanning rhythmically, they were alert, intense, and searching. They were the eyes of a predator.
The only other movements were the slight turns and adjustments of the steering wheel as he guided the car through the parking lot to a space at the far edge. There was just the smallest of squeaks as the brakes brought the vehicle to a complete stop.
The eyes followed an older, Japanese make car as it moved briskly between rows of cars and whipped into a space under a light pole in the parking lot. The security camera mounted at the top of the pole would not be able to angle down enough to see the car. Good.
A pretty and petite brunette exited the car and began walking to the mall. She would not be picked up on the camera until she was at least five cars down the parking lot row. Anyone approaching her in that bit of space would be invisible to the watchers or the recording devices.
He watched, evaluating and assessing. She was right. Her hips swayed in a way that made his breath quicken. The familiar urge began to grow into a burning need. There was a momentary impulse to spring now, and for one instant, there was a small flicker in his fingers as his arm tensed, much like the twitch of the lion’s tail when the prey is close but not quite close enough, and then the lion settles back into its stalking, crouching stillness.
A predator was in their midst and they were oblivious. It is always that way. The herd never wants to know the danger that surrounds it. It only wants to avoid it.
The car was nondescript and could have been one of any number of makes and models manufactured in the early nineties. They were all alike. Ford or Mercury. Chevrolet or Pontiac. This one was, in fact, a Chevrolet.
The extraordinary blandness of that era in the automotive industry made the vehicle perfect for his purposes. Fading red paint on the hood and roof might have made it somewhat more distinguishable if not for the fact that virtually every other car made in the United States during the period had the same fading paint job. Manufacturers had been required to remove lead from paint formulas causing the exterior paint to fade away to the primer. It was a common sight on cars from that era. It still is on the ones that survive.
Sitting quietly in a space at the edge of a large parking lot in a medium sized town on the outskirts of a very large city in northern Florida, the car was half a continent away from home.
The dark silhouette of the driver was barely visible behind the wheel. Completely still, he blended into the dark interior of the car. Had anyone noticed the car across the parking lot, they would have thought that the silhouette was just the high-backed headrest of the seat. His stillness was his camouflage.
But there was, in fact, a person in the car. Like the car, he was nondescript and unremarkable in appearance. Of medium build, somewhat thin in the face, light brown hair neatly trimmed, no facial hair, there was nothing remarkable in his appearance. Some might have found him attractive. Most would simply have found him - not ugly. Average. If he had been the kind of person that attracted the gaze of others, you might have become aware of his uncanny stillness. But he attracted no one’s gaze.
He was aware that human beings are always moving, even when they think they are not. They cough, fidget, turn their heads, eyes move to follow something of interest, yawn, scratch, take a deep breath, sigh, burp, fart, stretch.
People do a thousand things when they think they are doing nothing, when they think they are quiet. He knew that in the midst of the constant movement he was invisible.
He watched those others, the herd. His absolute stillness would have been unnerving to them if they had noticed him or been aware of his presence. They were not.
2. The Girl
The house was old, a small two bedroom frame house that had not seen paint in decades. Its weathered gray boards and panes of cracked glass gave it the air of a house much older. But a couple of windows with no glass at all, just a piece of plywood nailed over the openings to try and keep the cold and wet out, showed that its appearance was more from neglect than the number of years it had squatted beside the dirt road.
The girl’s bedroom had a small window in it, with glass. The wood frame around the glass was old and dry-rotted, and the glazing was falling out from around the glass panes. As the wind blew, the glass rattled in the weathered wood frames. It was an empty, hollow sound echoing in the room and then out into the bleak night.
Headlights from her father’s pickup cast a moving patch of light across the wall of her dark room. The lights went out, and she heard the door of the old truck squeak and slam. Like everything else around the place, it was worn out. The truck was tired. The land was tired. The old house was tired. She was tired.
The dog her father kept, it had no name, barked as her father walked towards the house. It yelped suddenly, and she knew that he had taken a kick in the side for the bark. He was a stupid dog. He always barked and Daddy always kicked him. You would think he would learn. Maybe he was just tired too, hoping in his old dog way that tonight might be different from every other night.
Stupid dog. Tonight would be like every other night.
There was silence and the girl, Lyn, knew that her father had stopped to take a piss on her mother’s withered, scrawny rosebush beside the front porch. In her mind, she could see her father lean back, taking a long pull from a beer can, with his privates hanging out spattering pee on the poor rosebush and the porch.
There in her dark room, a look of weary disgust crossed her face. It wasn’t the peeing outside that bothered her. This was rural farm country, and like as not, everyone did that. She had even been known to squat behind a bush when out and about.
No, it wasn’t his peeing outside that bothered her; it was the meanness of the act, the way her father did it, peeing on a rose that her Mama had dug the hole for and watered everyday throughout the summer, rinsing the spattered piss off every morning. It was his challenge to them. He might be a nothing dirt farmer and day laborer, but when he was here, by God, he was the king—the boss—and they better not forget it. Fuck the rosebush and what it represented; the wishful hope of something better, something pretty and soft, something different from the hardscrabble, mean life that he gave his wife and children. “Roses my ass,” he would mutter as he shook off the last drops of piss. “I got your roses right here.”
