TAYLOR JONES SAYS: In Waiting in the Shadows by Leonardus G. Rougoor, Joseph, who as a teenager is devastated by his mother’s brutal murder, finds his life taking a very different turn than what he had planned. When the killer gets off scot free, Joseph starts down a path from which he fears there is no return. Disillusioned by the lack of justice in the world and the number of innocent people hurt by animals with no conscience, he decides, when he grows up, that something has to be done. But what can one man do?

The story is fast-paced, exciting, and filled with a number of surprises. I found it very hard to put down.

REGAN MURPHY SAYS: Waiting in the Shadows by Leonardus G. Rougoor is the story of a young man who has had enough. When Joseph is just a teenager, his mother is murdered by a man who gets away with it. Then when Joseph grows up, he suffers the loss of another loved one, and also the loss of a good friend, both in much the same way as his mother. These men also get away with it, making Joseph wonder where the justice is for the victims. Deciding that enough is enough, he takes matters into his own hands in a way that surprises even him. Pretty much a loner with few friends, he makes his way through life, determined to meet out justice to evil doers. But things rarely go as planned, and Joseph discovers that the life he has chosen makes him walk a very fine line.

Rougoor’s character development is superb, and you can’t help rooting for Joseph, the ultimate underdog. An intriguing, exciting, and tension-filled thriller, this one is a page turner from beginning to end.

Chapter 1

Joseph

The choice has been made. This man has to die. What makes him think that he should be tolerated, even this long. Carl Bently is an admitted child porn producer who has the nerve to call it art.

Anyone who has any morals at all should be horrified by this person. I am personally repulsed by this man, although he seems to have quite a following. It makes me wonder what happens to the children who are subjected to this abuse. Where do they end up? How many lives are ruined because of this practice and is this cycle carried on by some of the victims? Thinking about it makes me ill.

I believe with all my heart that I’m performing a community service by removing this person from the land of the living. It’s not something enjoyable for me, but there’s no longer a choice in these matters.

He thinks he has no need to take any serious precautions concerning his safety, thus making things easier for me. He likes to jog on a regular basis. His route is almost always the same, and his schedule is fairly predictable. I get the information by doing a little surveillance on a couple of weekends, as the drive is not all that far from where I live.

He lives in an upscale home, which means that he must do fairly well. This also means there must be quite a market for what he produces. I wonder what draws people to the material that this man makes. It makes me fume a bit whenever I think about it too much. No one else seems to want this job, so I believe it has been left up to me.

The creep lives outside Sacramento. I get an address and start watching the subject. It’s surprising how easy it is to get information on people. Disguising myself a little differently each day, I follow him, making sure that I am not seen. Today I go to a café he likes to frequent but I’m early and already there when he comes in to have his latte. This turns out to be a big mistake, in more ways than one.

As I sit there waiting for Carl to show up, my mind drifts back to when I was a teenager. What I would not give to be able to change the day that started me on this path. You see, Carl is not the first person that I have planned to remove from society.

I wish with every ounce of my being that I had never been forced to remove anyone at all. This is not the road I would have chosen. In my mind, I relive that day, the day my mother was so horribly murdered. If that one day had not happened, I would never have had all those years of anguish.

Carl walks into the café, bringing me back to the present.

Up to this point, he has never noticed me because I’m usually sitting at a corner table and there are always a few empty tables available.

He’s at the counter and when he gets his order, he turns to find a seat. I haven’t counted on the place being this busy and, with nowhere else to go, the guy sits right down on one of the stools at my bistro-type table.

“Hi,” he says boldly. “You don’t mind me sitting here do you?”

So what the hell am I supposed to do now? I could just say I’m done, but my cup is almost full. “No problem,” I say, none too friendly.

He starts talking to me like we’re friends and, looking at him, I think that he actually seems like a decent type of guy, but I know what lies beneath that exterior. For a moment, I almost think that this may be the wrong guy, but I have already checked and this is definitely him.

He continues talking, striking up a conversation I don’t want. I’m at a loss as to what to do. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. It’s all I can do not to ram his coffee cup down his throat. It’s hard for me to follow what he is saying. I just want to get out of here.

“What do you do for a living?” he asks pleasantly.

In my head I say, Kill people like you. Instead I tell him, “I work in the steel fabricating industry.”

“Oh, what kind of work is that? Do you drill holes in steel and weld pieces together, or is there a lot of machining to be done too?” he asks.

I’m caught off guard by the friendly way he talks to me. “Yeah, stuff like that, plus quality control.”

Shit, I didn’t mean to give away information about me. This guy has managed to make me lower my guard and that shouldn’t happen if I am going to kill him. If I end up liking this man, I might not have the heart to do him in later.

Just then someone else walks up to the table, and it’s obvious that a friend of his is about to join us. I’m just getting up off the stool when Carl introduces me to Albert. The guy sticks out his hand and, seeing I am about to leave, asks me to stay. Crap, I’m getting in too deep and have to get out of here.

Slapping my pocket and grabbing at my cell phone, I pretend someone is calling me. At this point, it doesn’t matter what they think as I head out the door, talking to nobody. I keep right on walking, hoping they don’t suspect anything, but then again what difference can it make? I berate myself for getting into this predicament by being in the café before him. I have to stick to the business of doing what I came here for.

To most people, I’m just an average person. No one suspects what I do on the side and that I live two completely separate lives. It’s almost like being two different people. If Mom was still alive, she would be horrified. But then again if she was, I wouldn’t be doing this. I started down this road long ago because of what happened to her. A flood of memories come to assail me, and it takes a great effort to get back on track.

After getting myself back together, I think things over and decide on a method of how to take out the freak. He takes a leisurely jog through a wooded park every evening just as it starts to get dark. It’s a good thing this is early October, because the sun sets earlier. It gets dark earlier, helping me. It’s not real dark but the brightness of the day has diminished considerably.

I enter the park from the opposite end that Carl will be coming into. As I jog past a group of trees, a hooded man steps out with a gun pointing at me. My first instinct is to put my hands up.

“Keep them down and get behind these trees, asshole, and do it quick,” he snarls at me.

Bloody hell, how could this have happened? Doing as he says, I pass in front of him heading to a blind spot. He takes a quick look into the park to make sure we aren’t being observed, and this is all I need.

My right arm goes up and back toward him so fast that he doesn’t have time to react. My fist smashes his forearm just above the wrist, and the gun drops to the ground. His face turns to me with his eyes bugged out in surprise. The robbery is not supposed to go this way. My other hand is already in my jacket pocket, which has the liner removed, and I pull out a knife, the same one that will be used on Carl. The blade enters his midsection, and he drops to the ground. Dragging the idiot behind the trees, checking to make sure he’s dead, I place him out of sight and head to where I was originally going.

Shit, what else is going to go wrong? I’m tempted to postpone my meeting with Carl but this place will surely be crawling with police as soon as the mugger’s body is discovered, and my whole timetable will then be upset. There’s nothing to do but continue with the original plan.

There are several spots that will work for what I have in mind as the path curves around several large trees. I don’t want to rely just on my martial arts, because it’s necessary to take him out as quickly as possible, especially now. If I could take the time, a little more might be done to him, but I can’t and, now  after meeting him in person, I don’t know if I could.

The time he’ll be coming into the park is getting close. Jogging to the spot where I want to be, I take a number of deep breaths like I have been running for a while. Pacing back and forth, I make it look as if I am getting my breath back and slowing my heart rate down. At least I can make this look realistic because of the incident with the mugger. While I’m doing this, I look around to make sure there’s no one else coming. Things appear to be working in my favor, because everything is quiet.

Seeing my target entering the park, I feel the adrenalin start to flow in me again. My hands start to tremble just a bit. I have to get a grip on myself. My nerves need to be calm if I’m to do this properly. Things can’t be allowed to get out of my control, which will easily happen if I can’t stay focused.

Damn, someone is not far behind Carl, more trouble that I don’t need. First the chance meeting at the café, then the jackass in the bushes, and now this. What else can go wrong? Geez!

I hold on for a few seconds and, to my relief, the other jogger heads away from us. Taking a deep breath, and after one last look around the park, I start moving. The knife is in my left hand. It’s not gripped so that the point is toward the ground, but rather the blade rests against my forearm pointing up with the strap around my wrist. I don’t want Carl to see the knife as we approach each other.

Running just to the right of the center of the trail will force him a little closer to the side of the path as we pass. As we get closer to each other, I adjust my pace in order to intercept him at the right spot. I notice him move over to where I want him. Nobody is in sight and the blade is rotated in my hand, so it now points toward the ground. Wow, it almost slips, but I manage to get a good grip and, as we get a few steps apart, he seems to be aware that things are not right. And as I make my move—

© 2016 by Leonardus G. Rougoor