Two Hits Don't Make A Right

There he is. There is the man who has my daughter. The police don't know it, but i know for a fact that that's him, just sitting there with his poker buddies, in his fancy top of the range kitchen. I slowly climb out the bush and creep towards the garage, climbing through the window as i get there. I look around but nothing, no sign. Hearing footsteps i hide behind some boxes. I realize its him as soon as i hear his cough, the same cough he had back when I killed his daughter, but that was only business.