I reached for the handle on the passenger side door. The Sheriff picked up his gun and prepared to get behind the steering wheel.
Then another vehicle came around the corner behind Allison and me, and screeched to a halt with its headlights shining on us. Even before the driver exited, I could see that it was Jeff. I took Allison’s hand and pulled her to the rear of the Sheriff’s car for cover.
Jeff stood there, again holding a gun pointed in my direction. But something was different. The bandage on his left shoulder had an expanding red stain. His wound had opened.
“Going to the library to return some overdue books, Parker?” He laughed. “It was such an obvious place to find you.”
Of course it was, but we didn’t have a lot of options.
“Please resist arrest again,” Jeff taunted. “I really would like to finish this right here.”
Allison stepped in front of me. I tried pulling her back, but she slapped my hand away. She was having none of that. “Are you going to shoot me too, Jeff?” she yelled accusingly.
“Allison, there’s no need for this. Just come over here so I can arrest this worthless drifter.” I was tiring of him calling me that. “Everything will be fine.”
“Why are you doing this? For money?” she screamed in desperation.
“Shut up, Allison!” he roared.
“Jeff!” It was Sheriff Tyler. He had his weapon in his hand, aiming across the roof of his vehicle. “This ends now. Drop your gun.”
Jeff swung his weapon away from us and onto his new focus. “Sheriff. What are you doing? I have it all under control. We have our murderer. No problem.”
“Jeff!” the Sheriff hollered. “Enough. Drop the gun.” The Sheriff now had both hands tightly gripping the pistol and aiming it at Jeff. Jeff was exposed, with only the vehicle door to protect him. The Sheriff was behind his vehicle. Not much better protected, but it certainly looked more formidable.
There was a long hesitation as the two continued to point their guns, the Sheriff at Jeff and Jeff now back at us. Jeff released a heavy sigh. “OK, Sheriff. Have it your way. You can arrest this worthless drifter.” He lowered the gun to his side, squatted down, and placed the weapon gently on the street.
I didn’t realize until then I had tightened all my muscles and had been holding my breath, as if that would stop a speeding bullet. Allison must have done the same. We both expelled a sigh of relief. It was over.
She started to whimper and lunged to go to Jeff. But I caught her around the waist to hold her back. She struggled briefly, then surrendered, falling back against me, crying. “Jeff!” she wailed.
Bam! Bam! Bam! The shots came from behind the Sheriff.
Why wasn’t he turning around and firing back. He just stood there not moving. I realized then it was because he had been hit. Blood was spilling out of holes, forming red rivers down his back.
“Sheriff?” Allison croaked weakly.
He was held up by his elbows, which rested on the V created by the vehicle frame and the partially opened driver’s side door. He was still alive, but dying quickly.
From out of the gloom of the early morning darkness stepped a figure holding a revolver at his side. Andrew Pine.