The Guardian

wall.
    Once inside the house he slowly and quietly made his way through each room until he found the one he wanted. The woman, on the left side of the bed was obviously his wife. On the right was the asshole, snoring enough to suck paint off the wall.
    Pulling the small vile from his pocket he dabbed a small bit onto the rag in his other hand and gently covered the woman’s mouth and nose. She startled awake, eyes wide with fear but only for a moment. She settle back down, out for the count. He returned the rag to his pocket then walked around to the other side of the bed.
    He shone his small maglite in the face of the man. He pointed the beam directly into his eyes. It only took a few moments and the man awoke. He sat bolt upright, he reached under the mattress when a fist came crashing down on his face. The man recoiled, “Aghhh” he moaned. His hand covering his cheek where he’d been struck.
    The Guardian reached under the mattress. He found the .38 Special that the bean counter had hidden there. It was, he guessed, supposed to protect him from intruders. Too bad it didn’t work. The Guardian shoved the barrel into the man’s face; he could see the bead of sweat running down his face. The man could hear the smooth, metal ratcheting as the hammer was pulled back, cocking the gun to fire.
    “Que’ usted dean” “what do you want?” the man said.
    “Speak English you fuck, this is America.”
    “Clavo usted” “fuck you” he said.
    The gun slammed into the side of his face, “Try again.”
    The man groaned in pain. “Okay, okay” he muttered, spitting blood as he spoke.
    He grabbed the man by his dirty, food stained t-shirt, yanked him up from the bed. “I’m only going to tell you this once, do you understand me?”
    “Ci, yes,” The man said, the fear now in his eyes.
    “I’ll be watching every move you make. If you ever lay your hands on that little girl in there again, do anything to harm her in any way what so ever I’ll be back. Instead of reading about it in the papers, you’ll be the one everyone else is reading about. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Ce, Ce,” “yes” the man stammered.
    “This is only a warning. I will cut your balls off.” “Corte sus bolas apagado, comprende?” He said and shoved him back into his bed.
    The man was nodding furiously. His hand was covering his face as it bled where he’d been struck by the barrel of the gun, “Ce, Ce, comprende, yes” he was sobbing now.
    “I’ll keep this just in case I have to come back.” The Guardian said as he backed out of the room. He quickly exited the front door, looking around to see that he wasn’t noticed. Shoving the gun into his jacket, he pulled the hood off. Casually he walked down the street. Whistling, he looked back over his shoulder he noticed lights coming on in the bean counters house. He turned the corner and quickly headed back to his van.
    Once he got back and was inside the van, he pulled the gun from his jacket and tossed it under the seat. It probably wasn’t even registered. He’d double check it though. Even though he knew that it probably came from Mexico. More than likely had taken more than one life before resting between the mattress of the bean counter.
    As he drove off towards Chloride, he wondered how the bean counter was going to explain his face to his buddies. He wondered what wild, fabricated story he would have to weave to make him look like the victor. It didn’t matter to the Guardian, what he did know was that the bean counter knew the truth. He could tell what ever lies he wanted to. The fact of the matter was that the next time he would go to raise his hand against the little girl, he would remember. The man may even pause to look over his shoulder, so unsure of what may be there. The Guardian thought that he might even stop back, just as a reminder. “Ye shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.”
    Chapter 28
    Lieutenant Halloway and Detective Griffin were at wits end with the dead ends they were running into.
    The only thing that linked the two victims was the note around their necks and the words child molester burned into their foreheads. Those two things assured them that they were dealing with the same person or persons.
    They all had gotten away with being charged and convicted of child abuse.
    Las Vegas was full of sexual predators. It was going to be a fulltime job trying to cover them. The SCU, Special Crimes Unit was specifically designed to