Chapter Eight
Another band of the hurricane hit. Connie and Marvin turned their backs to absorb the wind. Connie received a response via the communications department on her cell and saw that the sisters confirmed that Bruen was in the home with them. Connie did a bullet count. Her 9mm caliber Beretta had twelve left in the clip, enough to end the standoff if need be. Marvin used a revolver. He had a speed loader and extra bullets on his belt.
“What’s the plan, cuz?” Marvin asked.
They hid behind the oak tree in the back of the sisters’ home. The thick trunk provided them with enough cover that Bruen wouldn’t see them if he wasn’t looking for them.
“I’ll go over to the back door, where it appears the most likely that Bruen would have entered, and knock. Hopefully, we can avoid any further complications.”
Her cousin snorted. “You’ve got to be kidding me, cuz. He already took a shot at both of us and killed two people while in custody.”
She whispered into her cousin’s ear. “What would you have me do, Marv? Blow his brains out before he answers the door? How will that look?”
“Damn good.”
She couldn’t argue with his answer. She agreed with Marv, but the media today would paint a very different picture. She was the peacekeeper of this territory and if there was a way to apprehend a suspect without killing someone, she would drive down that avenue. If the trip came to another detour, then she would deal with it when the time arrived.
*
A knock at the back door. Bruen jumped up. His body ached. He aimed the gun at the bitchy old lady. “You expecting someone?”
“Just the cavalry,” she said.
Had he been in the right amount of distance, he would have pistol whipped her. “Not Joan, you go answer the door.”
The other woman rose and walked over to the back door in no great hurry. Whether this was because she intended to piss him off or due to her age, he couldn’t be sure. She peered out the window. Debris hit the window, and sound measured against the pounding of the rain on the roof. “It’s for you, mister.”
Bruen’s weapon remained on Joan. “Who is it before I blow her brains out?” He yelled his question so the person on the other side of the door could hear.
“Mr. Bruen, it’s Sheriff Corvus. I trust you remember who I am.”
He spun around and grabbed the dark-haired woman’s robe. The muzzle of the gun pressed against the base of her skull. “Tell the nice sheriff where the gun is pressed.”
“He has the gun behind my head,” she said through the door.
“I trust, Sheriff, that you remember what I did.”
A shadow from the back window moved. Bruen dropped the gun from behind the lady’s neck and shot at the door. He hoped that did the trick. The sheriff must have more ammo than he. He didn’t count, but he supposed he had six or eight rounds left in the clip. Every bullet would have to matter. No additional noise on the other side. She probably wasn’t hit.
“Sheriff, you still there?” he asked. He returned the gun to the lady’s head.
“Yes, Mr. Bruen. I would like to come in and talk to you. It’s awful windy and rainy out here.” She tried southern charm. It wouldn’t work on him.
“I’ll tell you what, Sheriff. I open this door a crack, and you hand your firearm over to this here lady and I’ll think about it.”
The weather made the only sounds heard. Rain, wind, flying debris. “Is that a deal, Mr. Bruen?”
Skeptic, Bruen said, “You serious, Sheriff? You planning to hand over your weapon to this lady, and you’ll come in here unarmed?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Bruen, that’s what I’m saying, but I want something in return.”
“What?” He knew it couldn’t have been this easy.
“Once the sister hands the weapon over to you, you let her go.”
“Why would I do something that dumb?”
“Because that’s the deal I’m offering.”
“What’s to stop me from shooting you in the head as soon as I get you in here?” He played along. She must have figured that he would kill her once she entered, which made her offer all the more interesting.
“We’ve got highly trained snipers zeroed in on this house. We don’t have much in this town in the way of entertainment, Mr. Bruen, but what we do have is a bunch of rednecks with nothing better to do than shoot critters and tin cans. Do we have ourselves a deal?”
She could have been bluffing. Bruen knew this type of town was filled with those God guzzling Second Amendment believers. The woman squirmed under his grasp. She was the easier hostage to control. He would rather not find out what it was like to have a law enforcement officer, even an unarmed one at that, under his care. Deputy Dodge was an imbecile. The sheriff was not. She had killed before, and he didn’t doubt that she would murder again if it suited her. Especially the likes of him. He knew how the law enforcement officers in this country prized those who killed the “bad guys.” They were given parades and medals. He would take her out first. Anything to get her inside.
“Sure, Sheriff, we have us a deal.”
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