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Connor made his way back to the inn at a pretty quick pace, in his estimation. There were no sirens as of yet, which surprised him. He crouched as he approached the north side of the inn, holding the gun, glad that there was no moon. Staying close to the bushes that bordered the inn, he peered through the side window into the front parlor. Damn. He couldn't believe it. The gunman he had tackled was walking quickly around the room, tilting a large can, pouring a trail of, what was, obviously gasoline. Connor crept up further to the porch. He couldn't let this happen to Allie's inn. It would kill her. He didn't know if the men had succeeded in getting the money out of its hiding place in the basement. They'd certainly had the time to get it done. He heard heavy footsteps, and saw both men run down the porch stairs. He glanced through the window and saw flames already enveloping the curtains. Damn it to hell. He turned back to the two men, now starting to get into a vehicle that he knew wasn't there when he and Allie ran out earlier. Where were the feds, damn it? He was left with no choice.
"Federal agent. Stay where you are." Connor stood up and aimed the pistol at the men, one of whom was just rounding the front of the truck. The larger man immediately turned and pulled a weapon. Connor fired, sending the man reeling against the hood, his pistol flying into the darkness. His lifeless body slumped to the ground. His partner had jumped in the truck and was frantically trying to start the engine, glancing over at Connor nervously. Connor fired at him, hitting him in the shoulder. The man screamed and grabbed his arm, at the same moment that Connor heard sirens wailing in the distance. Keeping his gun trained on the wailing man, Connor opened the door, and yanked him out of the truck, at the same time, trying to see the extent of the fire.
Within a minute's time, the front yard of The Colborne Inn was swarming with police cars and unmarked vehicles. A fire truck was dispatched, as well as an ambulance, but Connor knew it would be too late. After handing over the injured man, he had run onto the porch, and had been driven back by the heat and flames that were now well up into the second floor.
His heart sank...at this point he was not even thinking about the money in the basement, but of Allie's precious inn....her home. He'd failed her. Exhausted, he bent over, his hand on his knee...his head down. Then, he jerked up, and headed for the back porch.
The Village of Gerard's Cliff Page 18
