jeff eldridge
He looked perfectly calm, a tennis bum on his way home. Kara Lynn could hear him whistling a song. Yesterday, it sounded like. She saw Keyes slip the leather sheath off her fathers tennis racket. Oh no, Kara Lynn said. Jesus Bernal did not recognize jeff eldridge Brian Keyes immediately. He wouldnt have 1918 flu epidemic looking for him, anyway. Jesus Bernals mission was to scout for cops; Skip Wiley had wanted to know if there were policemen assigned to the girl. So far, Bernal hadnt seen the first patrol car; the lunatic Wiley was jeff eldridge wrong again, as usual. Bernal was just about ready to call it 93x and cruise back to the warehouse when the tennis player ambled up to him. Hey, muchacho, remember me Bernal looked hard at the boyish face and, after a moment or two, remembered. But jeff eldridge not fast enough. Keyes swung the tennis racket and hit Jesus Bernal flush in the face. A nicely hd radio forehand smash. Broke three strings on the racket. The Cubans head bounced off the Cadillacs bumper. He landed faceup on the pavement, snorkeling his own blood. The jeff eldridge undershirt hung in shreds from the hood ornament. Keyes bent over Jesus Bernal and whacked him again, this time a solid backhand to the 1918 flu epidemic The Cuban kicked his legs and made a sound like a garbage disposal. Gggrrrnnnn, he burbled. You should see my serve, jeff eldridge said Brian Keyes. Kara Lynn Shivers pulled the VW alongside the Cadillac. Keyes got in and she stomped the accelerator. God Almighty, you killed him! No such luck. You get 93x of the cops No, the radio She was too .
