The First Sixteen: A Vigilante Series crime thriller novella - The Prequel Read Online Free PDF

left on Rachel as he had suggested and then
right on Bréboeuf to get away and out of sight just
in case he had turned around more quickly than expected. I certainly didn’t
want to attract his attention any further and I had some business to deal with
before going home for the weekend.

#5
- Gary O’Connor - Wednesday, February 28, 1996

 
    I
was starting to attract some attention, however minor, at this point. Ron
Henderson, a crime reporter with the Montreal Gazette , had noticed that four men with ties to criminal activities
had succumbed to similar yet unnatural causes in the last two months. Police
had not confirmed any belief that the deaths might be linked but Henderson had
suggested the four killings were being looked into by the city’s recently formed Special Homicide Task Force headed by a Lieutenant Dave McCall.
I had looked into the lieutenant’s records and he seemed like a sharp and
bright investigator so I knew I’d have to continue honing my skills if I
intended to stay a couple of steps ahead of the man.
    My
encounter with the cop at La Fontaine Park had been my warning, my one ‘stay
out of jail’ card. Though I doubted any link had or would be made between my
chance meeting with the cop and Leclerc’s subsequent death elsewhere later that
night, it had certainly been a lesson to me about needing to be one hundred
percent accurate in my planning going forward.
    My
lesson learned, I was extra careful as the time came to dealing with Gary O’Connor,
an ex-accountant with a mid-sized distribution company in east-end Montreal. O’Connor,
single and in his mid-forties, was a fairly likeable fellow and had been an
adequate enough bookkeeper to hang onto his job until his legal issues had
surfaced. As it turned out, O’Connor had a penchant for drinking somewhat
excessively.
    If
that had been the extent of his faux-pas, with tying one on too many on
occasion, everyone might have looked the other way. However, O’Connor tended to
lose all reason when he got to drinking, the worst consequence of which was his
firm belief that he was fully capable of driving. Such thinking had resulted in
several prior arrests in the past which had led to driving permit suspensions,
vehicle impoundment, jail time and, consequently, loss of employment.
    A
few months earlier, in an effort to raise his spirits during hard times, O’Connor
had decided to treat himself to a Saturday night on the town. Permit suspension
had never kept him from driving in the past and things had not been any
different that evening. He no longer had owned a vehicle but that hadn’t been
an issue since his sister, who lived close by, had gone out of town for the
weekend with friends and left her car behind.
    All
had been fine until he had been driving back home. In his intoxicated state, O’Connor
failed to notice a red light and unfortunately hit a teenager who had been
crossing the street with friends. The young lady had died while O’Connor sped
onward, intent on returning the car where he had taken it before staggering
home.
    None
of the eight witnesses present had been able to supply any information about
the driver of the killing machine which had sped by at two in the morning, not
even if it was a male or female. Descriptions of the car had been varied and
conflicting – a Toyota Corolla, Honda Civic or Nissan Sentra which was either
blue, grey, green or black – though all had agreed it wasn’t a recent model, at
least five or more years old. Only one had thought of trying to get the license
plate number but, as the car had retreated in the night, all she was fairly sure she had seen was a partial
580.
    With
this limited information the police had gotten to work, slowly eliminating
possibilities until they had looked into a Cheryl O’Connor who owned a ten year
old, charcoal grey Honda Civic. Fully cooperating, O’Connor had quickly
established her innocence, providing names of friends, receipts and even photos
to show she had