What Lies Beyond the Fence

Chapter 1

He was there.

Watching.

Waiting.

For what? Harry Bronson couldn’t answer that, but somehow he knew the man sat somewhere behind him, eyes scrutinizing him.

Bronson sat in a pew in one of Pittsburgh’s friendliest and smallest church. Not exactly the best place to turn around and analyze the audience. Still, as best as he could, he turned his head and looked to his left.

Everyone sat like him, eyes focused ahead, except for an old man who was nodding off.

Bronson’s cast his glance at each of the service’s attendees. No one stood out.

Bronson looked ahead, then to his right.

Carol, Bronson’s wife, poked him in the ribs. Bronson turned his attention back to the pastor and waited a couple seconds. It’d be safe for him to sneak a glance at Carol. Big mistake.

She squinted and stared back at him.

Oh, oh. She knew he was being watched. He couldn’t worry her, not again. After all, he was retired—okay, forced retired—but still retired. All those feelings in the gut should have been left behind when he walked out of the Dallas Police Department. All the danger, all the ugliness lived in his past.

Yet, here he sat, paying attention to his gut, knowing someone was out there.

Bronson smiled and gave Carol a reassuring smile. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Just wonderin’ how many people are here.”

She continued to stare at him, if possible, her eyes even narrower than before.

He should have kept quiet. Carol always knew when he was lying—especially when he was attempting to protect her.

Bronson wrapped his arm around his wife and pretend to listen to the pastor.

Behind him, he knew the man sat, waiting.

But for what?

And for how long?

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