..” The whisper broke the silence once more. If anything it was more pronounced. I could feel a slippery coldness work its way through my body. I couldn’t see or hear anyone else in the room but I could feel someone there. I can’t explain it any other way than that. There was someone in my room who wasn’t supposed to be there and he was scaring the crap out of me. I had to get the hell out. I grabbed my pillow and my comforter, my cell phone so I wouldn’t sleep in, and headed for one of the lumpy beer stained couches in the second floor common room. I wasn’t going to sleep well and my back would hurt like the devil in the morning, but it had to be better than this. As I was about to turn the doorknob, I heard a final whisper. “Cameron, don’t leave. I need you…” I felt a tingling again, like that feeling when you know someone is watching you. No freaking way am I staying in here! I shut the door quickly, and had to force myself to walk instead of running like hell down the hallway. On the evening, they were drunk and strung out on drugs. He retrieved his Belgium made FN 5.57-caliber pistol, known as "asesino de policia," or "cop killer" in Mexico.Calmly walking through the door into the dining room, he cut down the four men responsible for the deaths of his parents. Within a year, he was known as, the ángel de la muerte, or the "Angel of death."El Charro had a contract to kill a drug dealer in Cheyenne, Wyoming. He didn't need a written agreement, or a reason, just a handshake and the money, in advance. Ángel flew to Los Angeles, where he was provided with a car and the necessary weapon. He drove east on I-80, following the maps he was provided with. He was told to stay overnight in Rock City, but wanting to get it over with and get out of the driving snow, he pushed on through. A few miles west of Laramie, Ángel started feeling drowsy. He passed by a roadside stop, and less than five minutes later closed his eyes for a brief, but fatal, five seconds. It was.
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