The couple stopped for a brief rest. Emily tried her best not to cry. Even though LaRue felt that familiar itch, he was going to wait until the end.      “Good idea, Chef.” Tommy had returned for one final assignment. The information he would give the chef would become extremely useful.      After LaRue said his goodbyes to Tommy for the last time, Emily was staring at him. “Tommy says hi.”      He stood. “The south corridor, that’s the long hallway, with one door?”      “Yes.”      “Spotlight on the door?”      “Yes.”      “He’s there. He wants everyone to know he’s in charge.”      LaRue did

      The drive home was interesting. LaRue had a 1996 Spyder, and though it could seat more than two, it couldn’t really seat two when one of them was trying to manage a goat that had never seen anything but four walls. It complicated LaRue’s driving that the terrified goat was trying to escape from a vehicle travelling eighty miles an hour. It further complicated his driving that Emily was trying to stop the goat from escaping.      He knew whatever he might say to her would make the situation worse. But he thought it was funny. LaRue started to laugh.      “WHAT is so funny?”      “We survived being killed by an invisible god only to be killed by a hysterical goat.”      “He is NOT going to kill us.” She begin to laugh as well.      LaRue pulled

      “If you were to die tomorrow, what would you want to have accomplished?” LaRue asked Em. They were in their kitchen, she was sitting at the table, he was finishing omelettes that included pancetta, potatoes, chives, cream, maple syrup and a few spices. Cowatv ran through the house happily.      “You’re a joy in the morning, aren’t you?”      “I’m serious.”      “Daddy used to call it his legacy. The farm I grew up on had been in the family for four generations. He said his dad had taken it, and made improvements on it. Daddy then took it and bought more land. He added two more buildings, a large one he could keep all the farm equipment in and a smaller one on the far side of the farm that he could duck into when it rained.”      “I never wanted any par

      LaRue sat outside a 3 bedroom, two story stucco house. Outside that house was a newer Maserati. Inside the house was  Calvin McAfee. He had gotten home at 6:27, carrying a paper bag in his left hand. The chef’s rented car, the one that Ray had now erased from the rental company’s inventory, was parked across the street from McAfee’s.       One of the items LaRue had brought with him was his 3x25 opera glasses. They always allowed him to watch his victims, but were more concealable than binoculars. Due to most of his surveillance being was done at night, he replaced the glass with lens found in night vision goggles. He had watched him sit a chair by the window for sixty seven minutes. The chef watched McAfee pull up one web page then another. He could read account numbers, the different names on the accounts, and the amounts of each. Although he had a photographic memory, LaRue wrote the information down. &n

      LaRue, Emily, Ray as well as one camera operator and a limited amount of recording equipment stayed at the Rogers farm long enough to record two months of programs. The plan was to return in two months. In the interim, Ray had created a production company and the first show, with the last remnants of McAfee, would air in sixteen days.       For the next thirty days, the chef would be indulging his other side. Ray had given him three names.       “Ok, Chef D. I have what I believe are three individuals that deserve to die.”       “Many, MANY people deserve to die, Ray.”       “True, Chef. But I ask that you kill at least the first one.”       They were both seated in Melvin and Jacklyn living room. It was roughly two thirty in the morning. The earliness was necessary because after fifty year