For him, in the end, it was a matter of seconds.
Weiss heard Julie's footstep on the path. That was the first he knew she was there. She was almost at the house, almost at the front door.
He sat stock-still in the armchair in the darkened room. The. 38 was in his hand, his palm sweaty against the grip. He held his breath, straining to hear. The footsteps drew closer. He knew the killer would have to make his move in the next moment.
Weiss sat still, sat still. There was no room for error. If the killer was still watching him, if he saw him leave the chair, it would be over. He had to go at exactly the right moment.
Julie's hard heels sounded on the paved path. Ten yards away. Then five. Then three.
Then a break in the rhythm of her step. And Weiss thought: now.