Wicked Heart, Wicked Mind

   When he was ready to leave, he checked the house to make certain that everything was secure; he left the light on in the foyer, pulled the front door to, locked it, and then checked the lock again.  The November sky was filled with stars and there was a slight chill in the air.  He wondered if he would need a top coat but decided against it.  Kaylin watched from her car as he left the house and got into his own car to leave.  She had parked a block away on the dimly-lit street, just far enough away so she wouldn't be seen.  The street was completely devoid of pedestrians in this neighborhood of retirees and senior citizens who seldom ventured out after dark.  Very few cars drove by while she waited and in the cloak of darkness her presence was obscured.

   She sat there for a few minutes after he left, before going into the house.  It was apparent that no one had attempted to put things away or clean up for a while -- clutter in the house was beginning to accumulate -- and she found herself having to step over piles of mail, clothing and other debris as she walked through the first floor of the house.  The sounds of the house were all too familiar to her: the soft hum of the refrigerator, the tick-tock of the clock that sat on the piano in the living room, and the creak in the floor as she entered the kitchen.

   Her purpose for being there was not always clear in her mind but there was an unidentified, driving force that motivated her to stalk her stepfather and to continue, relentlessly, to invade his privacy.  In a previous search of his home, she had discovered the small caliber handgun he kept in the nightstand by his bed and, if she found nothing else during those visits, she always managed to find, stashed away in a vase, under a lamp, under the carpet or in some other unlikely place, an envelope or two full of money.

   He had driven several miles away from the house before he realized he had forgotten his wallet.  He would certainly need it tonight because it was his turn to buy a round of drinks for the guys -- he had lost a bet on the Redskins' football game the Sunday before and had to pay up.  He turned at the next corner and headed back to the house.  It was a clear night and traffic wasn't heavy, he would only be delayed by fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, he reasoned.

   Kaylin walked up the stairs to his room.  It was a mess.  Clothes and books were everywhere, the bed was unmade, the wastebasket was overflowing, and a layer of dust covered the tops of the furniture.  "This is disgusting," she sneered, poking at things with the cane she found near the bedroom door as she made her way to the nightstand beside his bed.  She pulled out the top drawer.  The gun was still there, but this time there was also an envelope which she had not seen before with "will -- make a copy for Jesse" written on the front.  She picked it up and started to open it when she heard someone trying to open the front door.  She dropped the envelope, turned off the light and ran into the darkened bathroom at the top of the stairs.