𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔏𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔇𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔰

part ii | chapter v

The bane of small-town gossip was, this once, a boon for Winona. All she had to do was nonchalantly mention that she knew of a new policeman in Andover, and it birthed a discordance of griping from her coworkers at the tattoo saloon. She listened intently so that she could extract important details that threaded what was, for the most part, a tapestry of rumors and speculation.

"Oh, yeah. Brian Stevenson. Real piece of work, that one."

"Fits right in with all the entitled twerps on Greenwood Road."

Greenwood Road, an upper-class neighborhood with estates bordering the Changris Wetlands.

"He bought that charming duplex where the Reginalds used to live..."

Winona thanked the Great Spirit for the knowledge of that house, for the advantage it provided her with. Her nose crinkled at the touch of disrespect in her gratitude – the Great Spirit did not condone vengeance.

"Heard he got transferred here as a part of some disciplinary proceeding."

"I don't think he knows what discipline is... didn't he already get into trouble here? Something happened on Haverhill Street. He was being openly racist."

"I heard that, too. People got it on video and lodged a public concerns complaint... Andover PD issued a statement that an internal enquiry is underway."

"He's been suspended for the time being. At least his department issued firearm was taken away."

A scoff. "Like that helps. You really believe that his service weapon is the only gun he has? Did you forget we live in the US of A?"

The statement echoed Winona's thoughts. Yet, the danger of guns didn't temper her rage, didn't dissolve the bitterness of revenge that coated the inside of her mouth. It didn't matter if he had his own, personal arsenal – they'd just have to incapacitate him before he got to a weapon. They would just have to catch Brian Stevenson at his most vulnerable. And for that, they needed to know him, understand him.

In the stillness of that midnight, impelled by a need for the justice that would satisfy them, Winona laid out her basal plan for Meda. Their first step was to gather as much information about their target as possible; organs and muscles to fill out and give fuller form to that skeletal scheme.

On days when Winona worked, Meda trailed Brian Stevenson under the guise of selling trinkets and artistry door to door along Greenwood Road. On other days, Winona offered cheap labor to scope out the neighborhood. She washed cars, trimmed hedges, mowed lawns, painted fences, and from her various vantage points, she could see which houses had security cameras that kept his property in their sights. She noted the houses that had dogs, or those that had motion detectors. She memorized the approximate hour by which the last lights in the row were snuffed. And she was privy to when the last wisps of activity on the street dissipated.

With nightfall, the sisters clothed themselves in their darkest garbs and returned to Greenwood Road. Sheathed in the shadows of the Changris Wetlands, they mapped the best routes in and out of Brian Stevenson's house. Winona trusted the forest and its umbrage to keep their secret, so their final route clung to the treeline. They would be well-hidden in its murky cover, safe from any eyes still awake.

And they surveilled him. They memorized his movements and his mannerisms, his comings and his goings. They studied his predilections and prejudices. On quiet prowls they stalked him, with ghostly footsteps they haunted him. They watched him until he was a clockwork toy in their minds – unremarkable, predictable. Breakable.

Every little fact they gathered was a fruitful addition to their plan, but perhaps the most fruitful was the fact that he didn't have a home security system. Winona had spied a company visit and scope out his property, but they hadn't made any installations yet. That was their greatest advantage and she intended to exploit it before it slipped from their grip.