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It would be ironic indeed to have escaped Walter and Cesar Romero both and then get shot down by some myopic weekend warrior too dim-witted to notice that his target had two legs instead of four and lacked a rack of antlers. An irony that I would definitely not appreciate.Around 9:30, by which time any self-respecting deer would be laid up for the day, I put on my jacket and vest (which fitted me like a tent but would color me human to any lurking hunters) and headed out, the Liberator and my box of ammunition in my pockets. The weather was appreciably brisker than a few days before, with a definite nip in the air and a fairly heavy overcast; perhaps the snowfall eagerly awaited by the lodge management was at last on its way.The access to the hunting area was marked by a fairly wide gravel shoulder along which several cars were parked. But there was still room, and I slid my rental into one of the vacant spots. From there I hiked up a dirt path about thirty feet—enough to be out of. That night I timed it perfectly to be an hour or so before she usually would go to bed. We ate dinner and I said my goodbyes as I told her I was sleeping at a friends house. I gave her a hug and said “Thanks Mom! I love you” and left the house. I only left the house to climb back into my window that I left unlocked. Time goes by as she perfectly went into her room to get ready for bed. I hear her soap operas playing in the background in her room. She was inside her room doing whatever she was doing. Lights still on. I tip toed my way to her door and got on the floor hands and knees and pressed my ear against the door. I hear her opened the drawer and she opened the ransom note I left. It was pretty silent from her until I hear no more soap opera to which she changed to some smooth jazz station I showed her on pandora. Seems like it was time for action. First thing she did was take off her clothes I saw them fall to the floor from the crack of her door. She then walked over to unlock.
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