by Darrell Case
Coming in late from work, Allison entered the back
door. Joe was in the middle of tearing her parent's closet apart when her screams alerted him. Hearing the killer stomping down the stairs Allison panicked. Whoever murdered her
parents wouldn't hesitate to kill her.
She rummaged frantically for a weapon, then remembered her father's 12-gauge shotgun. Frank had put it under the cabinet last month when a red fox was stalking the hen house.
She fell to her knees, and reached into the dark recess. For one horrifying moment, she feared the killer had all ready taken it. Then her fingers closed over the cold steel barrel. The pounding feet were crossing the living room.
Brimmer threw open the door and charged into the kitchen. At the sight of Allison holding the shotgun he tried to stop short but slipped in the pool of blood and fell on Frank’s body. Through blinding tears and rage, Allison brought the heavy weapon to her shoulder and cocked both hammers.
To Brimmer the double clicks sounded like the locks on his coffin. Looking death in the face, Joe began to whimper and beg for his life. He tried to get to his feet but they flew out from under him and he sprawled in the blood again.
“Please don't shoot, it wasn't me that killed 'em,” Joe Brimmer bawled, tears rolling down his puffy red cheeks. “I tried to stop 'em, honest I did. Almost got killed myself.”
“Who did it?” Allison demanded lowering the shotgun, “Are they still in the house?”
Tears streamed down her cheeks in rivulets. She would mourn her family later. Right now, she was going to deal with the murderer. For a few seconds Allison's stare left Brimmer. Her eyes darted from the windows to the doors, her ears tuned to any strange noise. Grasping the back of one of the kitchen chairs, Joe regained his footing. He paused seeming to ponder the teenage girl's question.
“Come on, Joe you had to see them,” Allison said, hoisting the gun to her shoulder again. A grin spread across Joe Brimmer's face.
“Yeah, he's still in the house,” he said.
Realization shocked Allison's mind like a bucket of ice water. Her parent’s murderer was standing three feet in front of her grinning like a demon.
Joe's hands shot out, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun. For the next, few seconds Allison's and her would- be murderer were locked in a deadly tug of war. The loser of this game would end up in the ground.
Letting go of the barrels he made a grab for Allison.
Failing, he again seized the gun. Fighting for purchase Allison forced her finger into the trigger guard. After what seemed an eternity she felt the sharp edge of the trigger touch the pad of her finger. Feeling an odd sense of glee at
the fear in Joe's eyes, she squeezed both triggers. The hammers clicked on empty chambers. With superhuman strength, Allison jerked the gun from Joe's grip. Whirling around, she sprinted for the living room. Close behind, Brimmer made a flying tackle and grabbed her by the ankles. The shotgun flew out of her hands, clattering and skittering across the floor.
She spotted the box of shells under her father's easy chair. Joe jumped over her and snatched up the shotgun. With both hands wrapped around the barrels, he swung the stock at Allison's head. She caught the butt in mid swing. Using Joe's momentum against him, she shoved him back, wrenching the gun from his hands. Joe fell and crashed into the coffee table shattering the china teacups Becky had cherished.
Snatching the box of shells, Allison ripped it apart. She broke the gun open. Breathing hard she shoved loads into the chambers. Some shells fell to the floor and bounced around her feet. Avoiding them, like a football player headed for the goal line she raced for the kitchen. On his feet, Joe stumbled over the shells. Righting himself, he came after her. She ran for her life knowing one mistake and she’d be dead.
She hit the kitchen door in a dead run. Brimmer came through behind her. Charging through the door before it had a chance to swing closed. It banged shut behind them, closing them into the fighting arena. He was inches behind her. Allison could hear Brimmer's heavy wheezing. She could almost feel his breath. His outstretched hand touched her back. She smelled his sour sweat. She had one chance, only one. If she failed Joe would kill her. But before he took her life, he would make wish she was dead. She felt his fingers raking down the back of her shirt. They caught for a second, then fell away.
In one motion, Allison spun throwing herself to the floor. Her body hit the back door tearing it off its hinges. On her back, she slid out the opening. She fired pulling both triggers. Brimmer's momentum propelled him forward. Too late to stop. No place to run. Nowhere to hide. His chest pressed the end of the double barrel shotgun. He gasped, his eyes glittering with fear. His face went gray. He met death head on.
The combined blast sent Alison halfway across the porch. Both loads of buckshot hit Joe in the lungs sending the organs or what was left of them through his backbone. He was dead before he flew into the table, upending it. Her legs barely able to hold her, Alison stumbled back into the house. In the living room she reloaded, the shotgun .There was no need. Joe was just as dead as her mother and father.
Her hand shaking, she dropped the phone three times before finally managed to call 911. Sheriff Andy Moon arrived 10 minutes. He found Alison on the kitchen floor cradling her parents and sobbing and muttering incoherently.
He calmed Allison down long enough for her to tell him what happened. The investigation was swift. Andy had known her since childhood. He took one look at the crime scene, listened to Allison's story and declared the case closed. The prosecutor agreed. He went so far as to thank her for ridding the state of a dangerous criminal.
Joe Brimmer's family on the other hand screamed conspiracy to anyone who would listen. They claimed Allison killed her parents for the farm. When Joe discovered what she’d done, she murdered him too and then pinned the blame on their dead relative.
When asked about Joe's record during a press conference, his mother became so enraged she suffered a massive heart attack. She dropped dead, her head bouncing off the concrete steps of the courthouse. After she died, the family dropped the wrongful death suit. Joe's twin brother was an inmate in the state prison in Michigan City Indiana, on death row for the rape and murder of an elderly school teacher.
Allison leased the farm to a neighbor and devoted herself to one goal; bringing the Joe Brimmers of the world to justice, stopping them before they could destroy other families. Her hatred of criminals was the driving force through the years of college then the academy. She scratched and clawed her way through the ranks. Each time she encountered a jerk like Jorgenson she thought of Brimmer. With renewed hatred, she forged ahead.
Now she questioned her motive. For all her efforts, prison populations were at an all time high. The crime rate was steadily climbing and criminals were becoming more brutal. It seemed the harder she worked the more violent the world became.
She laid her head back on the air pillow, letting the warm water soak her through. She was so tired. Maybe she should just give up. Go back to Indiana. Was it really worth all the fight and struggle? As long as men like Jorgenson called the shots she would never be more than a field agent.
Chapter 7
