Mr John Parker kissed Mrs Parker and then disappeared into nearby Alaska, as was normal, for his business. He, now, a week later, lay deep in 3 foot of new snow, watching the fine glistening road so far ahead of him. The Honda CRV came along, as was expected, in the far distance, at the right time. Parker was a mile away, well hidden in a drift of a new snow mound. Parker liked 'the cold'. He chewed on the ice to stop any steamy breath escaping him. Parker focused. The long distance rifle was pretty well perfect. His first shot hit the driver between the eyes, and blew those blue eyes across the shiny car. His second shot hit the small girl in the baby car seat behind him, in the liver. John felt a deep delight of accomplishment, and then wondered if his daughter was okay, back in Ontario. The Honda swerved on the icy road and ended up, slowing squealing on the ice road, into a heap of new snow by the side, for someone to find, much later. The sun was shining. It was 30 degrees below zero. There was no wind. There was no distraction.