The CYZ Files
an excerpt

Clayton Matthews looked up from the rifle sight and rubbed his eyes. Squinting through a zoom lens all day made his eyes dry. He opened up a pocket on the black bag at his feet and withdrew a bottle of eye drops. His gloves made unscrewing the top difficult. He tilted back his head and carefully dripped two drops into each eye, and then he returned the bottle to his bag and peered once more through the sight.
The bitch was still in her apartment, hiding behind the slatted blinds. She was smart, he had to give her that, but it was grudging respect. From time to time he saw a shadow pass across the window, but it was too vague for him to risk a shot. This was the third day he had lain in wait for her. Apart from her trip to the FBI, she hadn’t ventured outside her apartment. She hadn’t gone to work, she hadn’t even gone out for food or ordered any in. Clayton wasn’t content to wait for her to starve to death. She had failed to die in the car bomb he had planted – and he was proud of that bomb, it had worked so perfectly and looked so natural it had even fooled the police when she went to them – and had thwarted his attempts to shoot her from afar. That meant he was going to have to gear his hunting up a notch.
He opened another compartment in the large hold all and withdrew a machete. The sharp blade glinted in the low light of the apartment. He stood up and wandered into the bedroom. The former resident, a pretty blonde haired twenty something, lay spread eagled on the bed, her lifeless eyes fixed in grim fascination on the ceiling. He plucked a strand of hair from her head and used it to test the edge of the knife. It sliced through the hair, making two perfect strands where there had been one. Clayton let the hair drift free from his fingers and spiral to the ground. He smiled, imagining the blade cutting the bitch’s throat, then slitting her from gullet to naval and gutting her liked a deer. There was nothing like the heat from a freshly killed deer’s intestines to warm your hands on a snowy winter’s day. Of course, it wasn’t that cold in New York at the moment, but he would enjoy the sensation anyway.
He returned to the living room and checked that the woman was still in her apartment. Her shadow passed in front of the shaded windows once again. Clayton replaced the machete in the bag and then carefully dismantled the rifle and stand and put it away. He was taking his hunt across the road.