When incurable pedophiles are released into our society, does it give you comfort knowing where they live? That is . . . if they bother to register. It is only circumstance that allows some dying senior citizens to realize they are exempt from the penalties associated with making the sex offender registry their Death List! Targeting the worst of the worst, they decide to make the world a bit safer for the children. In their rationale, even if they are caught, they will be dead before they are sentenced. This group of flawed, unhappy Baby Boomers, made up by a cast of very different characters decides that if the law itself is broken, then breaking the law does not apply. This is a very original story that incorporates many aspects that this gray generation is faced with, as well as their personal feelings, which transition as they bond in a common cause. Make no mistake, this is a violent book. No one is spared, as this heinous disease has spread to those in the most respected positions. The solution? Personal justice dealt out in large doses. Think about it. If a tiger was loose in your city, what kind of response would it bring from those in authority? Yet an incurable pedophile can be a multiple offender and living next door to you. The characters in this book are tired of watching the heinous crimes against children on the news. They realize they are immune from punishment, which for some offers a chance at redemption. This book also offers a glimpse of the world from the perspective of those that are a 'lost' generation. Losing their jobs to younger workers and without insurance, stuck at an age where they are too young for government benefits, and recipients of the separation syndrome that has affected so many families. These are grandparents that refuse to accept that their grandchildren could become prey to these predators. Expect the unexpected, as they proceed with assistance and divine intervention. Th

DEATH List

By Edwin F. Becker

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Edwin F. Becker
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-2434-2

Contents

Introduction.........................xiChapter One..........................1Chapter Two..........................27Chapter Three........................52Chapter Four.........................78Chapter Five.........................100Chapter Six..........................124Chapter Seven........................148Chapter Eight........................171Chapter Nine.........................193Chapter Ten..........................221Chapter Eleven.......................244Chapter Twelve.......................270Chapter Thirteen.....................295About the Author.....................319

Chapter One

He sat, watching and waiting patiently, as a skilled predator would do. Like a lion watching a grazing herd of zebras, he focused on a group of children not a hundred yards away, on the opposite side of the park. As the sun began to set, he knew they would begin walking home, and like the lion that would wait for a single zebra to drift away from the herd, he waited for that one child that might not follow the crowd and go off in a different direction. Somewhere, a mother and father were unaware that this predator was stalking their innocent child. He sat inconspicuously on a bench pretending to read the paper, but all the while keeping track of the children, as he waited for his opportunity to arise.

He is a registered sex offender. He is one of more than 500 that live in the Springfield, Missouri area. He is attracted to young boys and has been arrested twice, serving nearly two years on charges plea-bargained down to sexual molestations. He has a parole officer he rarely sees and medication that he rarely takes. Like any skilled predator, he waits for the right moment to pounce. As these children begin to wander home, he only needs to follow one, and his instincts and illness will take over. His van is already in place near the soccer field where the children are playing. His eyes dart about, and no one seems to notice him—although he is aware of everything in his surroundings. His excitement is building because soon it will be time to make his move.

David H. Peterson is 27 years old. Blonde with blue eyes, he has the face of innocence. He moved to Springfield from Texas only six months earlier. He works at a local dollar store and had stopped taking his medication weeks ago. He had been molesting boys since his early teens. He fondled a boy in public swimming pool and was caught at age 17. It was plea-bargained down to sexual misconduct and he was free on probation. Working as a preschool attendant, he was caught again and convicted of multiple counts of child molestations and served 2 years of a five year sentence. He quickly relocated to Missouri. In reality, he had tainted the lives of a hundred children, and found it easy to get jobs that allowed him to do so. He truly did intend to try and make a clean start in Springfield, but without medication and supervision, his illness overwhelmed him. His urge is stronger than ever, and his plan is to take a child off the street. As a two time offender, he is aware that he could not leave even a shred of evidence. This child would not survive what David has planned.

He noticed an old man walking in his direction, slowly cutting across the park. He was likely the only one to take notice, as senior citizens are considered the 'invisible generation.' The old man had a cane and appeared to be breathing from a small oxygen tank attached to his chest, as there was a thin hose running up to his nose. The predator watched the old man, thinking 'Come on you old fart, can you move any slower?' The old man kept moving in his direction, lumbering across the field in a path that would cross directly in front of him. His eyes darted about, watching as daylight faded and the children began gathering their gear in preparation to leave. If the timing was right, the old man would pass him by and he would begin moving toward the children, picking his prey. 'No one will take notice,' he thought.

The old man moved slowly, but was also watching the predator out the corner of his eye. This was no ordinary senior citizen, as he was out to rid the world of one despicable human mistake. His name was Jack Blaine, and he was dying from lung cancer.

He too, was actually a predator. He knew his prey, as he had seen his picture on the registered sex offender website. The closer he got, the more he focused on his target and was now gasping from his oxygen tank. When he finally crossed in front of the bench, he stopped as if resting for a moment. The predator glanced up at him, disgusted. The old man looked him in the eyes and spoke softly. "Today is not your day, David."

David looked surprised. "Do I know you?" he asked. He did not recognize this short, frail old man gasping for air.

"No, David, but I know you," the old man answered. It was the last thing that David H. Peterson expected. Leaning on his cane, the old man put his hand in his pocket, raised the pocket to David's chest level, and quickly fired 3 shots. The gun was a .22 caliber pistol loaded with long rifle, hollow-point bullets. The barrel had four inches of pipe insulation, which silenced the noise to barely 3 muffled pops. All three shots hit the center of David's chest. He was dead instantly and slumped forward, dropping the newspaper. In Jack's mind, it was as if everything moved in slow motion, when in reality it was only a few seconds.

Jack looked across the field as the children went on their way, and smiled as he kept walking. He could pick up the pace a bit now, as he was soon out of the park and walking to a strip mall where he had left his car. As he entered his car, as far as he knew, no one noticed a thing. He had committed a perfect crime. The first thing he reached for was his water bottle, as his mouth was parched. He sat there feeling relieved as well as having a strong feeling of accomplishment. He slowly pulled his car out onto the street and headed for the interstate, turning south to Branson, where he would meet his accomplice.

It was about a 25 minute drive and he had plenty of time to replay the event in his mind. He had stalked his victim and knew that David would be in that park at that exact time. Jack also knew that it was only a matter of time before another child was harmed. He felt no guilt, as he was truly taking out the garbage, in his reasoning. In retrospect, he could not believe how good it felt to pull the trigger. He was now on his way to Elmer's, an out of the way pub in the old section in the city of Branson.

This was not the type of crime one might expect in this beautiful area of the Ozark Mountains, sometimes called the buckle of the Bible belt. This corner of southwest Missouri bragged more churches per square mile than anywhere else in the country. The largest city in the area was Springfield, which contains an ever-growing economy and a population that has made it the 3rd largest in the state. However, it also shelters one of the highest rates of sex offenders, one of the highest rates of spousal abuse, and more illegal meth labs than any other city. So much so, meth is referred to as "417" across the country, since 417 is area code for the Springfield/Branson area. This land of lakes and green mountains with its conservative Christian standards and a reputation for maintaining family values and honoring veterans, had a very ugly underside.

Joe Beck was sitting in Elmer's, slumped in a booth, watching the television. It was near eight in the...