by Sarina Adem
Stranger tilted his head slightly. Unblinking. “What’s it look like?”
“Well,” said Buck, “looks like I showed up early. I thought you were taking care of this last night.”
Jolene, whose back was to the door, tried her best to see him over her shoulder. “What?”
“Sorry, Jo,” he said. “You’re not exactly a visionary of commerce. I’m just stepping up and taking charge. I hope you can respect that.”
“Hell no, I can’t respect that.”
Buck, talking to Stranger, said, “Get that gun out of my face if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. One second.” Stranger brought the cell phone up to his ear and said, “Alright, I’m back. Deputy Gully is here. What do you want me to do?”
Buck grew annoyed and brushed past Stranger to step inside. Ignored the gun still trained on his back. The deputy acknowledged Hightower with a nod, but the greater goliath didn’t respond.
“Jo,” Buck said, “I just want you to know, I didn’t plan all this. They came to me.”
“Who did?”
“If they haven’t told you, then I guess they don’t want you to know.”
“Buck, they’re going to kill me. And this man.” Jolene nodded toward Troy.
Buck sized Troy up. “I don’t know him. And I guess I don’t have to. But Jo, you need to understand, all of this, it’s not your fault. You were a good sheriff. This just ain’t the times for a good sheriff. Morally speaking, of course. I mean, I’ve got my morals, but sometimes a man – “
Stranger pushed the pistol in the back of Buck’s skull. Pulled the trigger. The blast knocked the deputy’s head forward, splattered the ceiling. Buck crumbled in a heap next to Troy.
Jolene screamed, but not in lament. More out of shock. Troy’s mouth fell open.
Stranger remained on the phone. “Now what? . Alright.” He hung up, pocketed the phone. Said, “Well, Sheriff Flannery, I guess you don’t have to worry about this corrupt lawman taking office after you’re gone. It’ll just be another one.”
Jolene remembered Buck in high school. Walking down the halls, shoving smaller kids into their lockers while he tossed a football around with his friends. In his letterman jacket. Now he had a wife and kids but they didn’t have him. “Why’d you kill him?”
“He betrayed you,” said Stranger. “What’s it matter?”
Jolene couldn’t look away from the deputy’s corpse. “Just want to know. He was a friend.”
“Looks like you’re finding yourself with fewer of those as time goes on, don’t you think?” Stranger paused, then sighed. “I was instructed to kill him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Probably came to make sure he was about to become interim sheriff. He violated his own instructions. My employer does not tolerate disobedience.”
Troy Ellis watched the deputy’s blood leak out the back of his head and pool around his feet. His ears still ringing from the gunshot. He looked back to the pistol in Hightower’s hand, just a few inches from his face. Hightower watched Stranger, paying attention to the creepy little guy while he conversed with the sheriff.
This was it.
This was the moment.
For hours now, he had worked to unlatch his watch. The lock on it was fairly sharp, enough to pierce skin if enough pressure was applied. The duct tape that bound his wrists had been wrapped to leave the watch exposed, and by bending his wrist just enough to hurt, the latch popped off. That was before the sun came up.
Carefully and almost without any sign of movement, he had since commenced to rubbing his wrists together, working a line down the tape with that latch. His hands were freed somewhere around seven a.m., but he couldn’t lean forward yet to undo his legs. He needed to wait until Stranger or Hightower got close.
Troy slapped his hands around Hightower’s wrist and snapped it backward. Hightower pulled the trigger, either accidentally or thinking he might hit Troy, but only managed to shoot the ceiling. Stranger barely had to time to react before Troy launched forward against the goliath, attempting to wrestle the pistol from his grip, the chair coming off the ground with him.
Stranger fired at the same time, missing Troy, putting a hole in the ground where the hostage sat just a half second earlier.
Hightower used his brute strength to fling the aggressor away, but Troy managed to pry the pistol from Hightower’s weakened hand.
Troy hit the floor sideways, landing against the couch. He raised the pistol and fired.
One. Two. Three.
Every shot blew little red mist clouds out of Hightower’s chest. The giant teetered.
Stranger stepped to the side, came into view from behind the goliath, and aimed at Troy. Troy’s reflexes followed the movement, pulled the trigger. Put one between Stranger’s eyes. His head popped back and his body went limp. He fell behind Hightower, who then toppled over on him.
The cabin fell silent again.
Troy, still clutching the pistol, looked at Jolene. The sheriff stared at him, shocked and confused.
Troy smiled timidly and said, “Alright, I lied. They were after me. I don’t even have a sister.”
