The son-of-a-bitch knew his business, he knew where to hit. He had left no discernable marks. I turned on the cold water and plugged the orange-staine... sink. When it had finally filled, I plunged my head into its frigid sanctuary and soaked it there until I couldn’t hold my breath any longer. I then pulled my face back up, in a little less pain and slightly more refreshed, grabbed a washcloth from the vanity and soaked it in the water. I rubbed the cool wet cloth along my neck as I leaned on. I had decided that I would watch the house from behind the barn until Big Tony and his guys showed up at the farm house and then I would have to look for an opportunity to go back into the house to get the recorder. Worst case, I would call Detective Olson and try to convince him over the phone that he should go to the farm house and question Big Tony and his men. I figured I could trust Olson because if he was one of the cops Big Tony was paying something would have been said about it after. More

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