It was weeks later that Diamond called to let me know that she was alive and safely back wherever it was that she called home. I never bothered to ask. Wouldn’t matter anyway. We chatted briefly; however, our little chats seldom resembled two girls talking about the stuff two girls might generally discuss such as food, weight, dresses, men, and, well, more men.
“Saw the sniper and had a bead on him.”
“Didn’t hire you to shoot anybody.”
“Contract is a contract, even the freebies.”
“The sniper saw you, too.”
“Yikes. Need to do a better job of camouflage.”
“Worth pondering.”
“You satisfied?”
“Not really. Death is not the same thing as justice.”
“True enough. Merely revenge getting revenge.”
“Never ends.”
“Never will. That’s why I get paid handsomely.”
“You ever tire of killing?”
“It’s not personal, Clancy. It’s a job and I am good at it. Most times I don’t even think of it as killing, in the sense you ask.”
“You keep your conscience at bay while you do your work.”
“Most days I do not have a conscience, or maybe I just do what you say, keep it at bay. I do not feel remorse or pity or sadness whenever I shoot someone.”
“Ever shot the wrong person?”
“Not yet.”
“Ever regret shooting someone?”
There was a long pause. I made her think.
“Almost, but not usually. Like I said, it’s not personal.”
“Almost?” I said.
“Now that I know you somewhat, I would have likely regretted shooting you. Still, at the time, I didn’t know you. So, no regrets. Not in my work.”
“We back at square one?” I said.
“You mean are we even now?”
“That would be the question.”
“Even, yes. You saved me and I protected you, in a manner of speaking. But does that mean if someone out there wants you dead, I am for hire?”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“Rest easy. You are not a target.”
“Not at the moment, but … for the right price.”
“Not ever. As you might imagine, I do not have friends. Too dangerous in my line of work. You’re as close as it comes to that idea, friend.”
“I shall rest easy.”
“If you need me, call me.” She gave me a number and then hung up without another word.
Life can bring strange and mysterious people into your path. Saunders was pathologically strange, even bordering on the manic side. She had been sick, I figured, for most of her life and I had to blame the people who raised her for that outcome. Bella was strange in her quasi-skills regarding psychic powers. While I did not believe in such, she definitely had insights and knowledge of events and people that defied explanation. Bart was strange in his partnership with Bella and his single talent for shooting a rifle; but then, I really did not know Bart, so perhaps I was being unfair in my assessment. Diamond was the one who would likely remain indelibly mysterious because her ethics were mostly different from my own. The question I posed for myself was whether Diamond would remain a part of my life or disappear like Saunders, Bella, and Bart.
Tomorrow would be another day, as the ubiquitous they would say.
About the Author
M Glenn Graves has been writing fiction since graduating from college in 1970 but did not begin to work on novels until 1992. Born in Mississippi, he has lived in Tennessee, North Carolina, Missouri, Virginia, Costa Rica, and the Dominican Republic. He graduated from Mars Hill College with a BA in English and Religion. He received a Master of Divinity in 1977 three years after he finished his four year tour in the United States Navy. Married to Cindy, they have three grown children – Brian, Mark, & Jenn. They also have three grandchildren – Jonathan, Matthew, & Phoebe. Glenn, Cindy, and Sophie, their Lab, currently reside in the mountains of western North Carolina where he is the pastor of a local church.
And here’s one for free, as a thank you from Wolfpack Publishing. Check out Her Majesty’s Yankee by Thom Nicholson: Here
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