Read Online Dead Last by James W. Hall - Free Book Online Page B

officer.”
    “Well, yes, sir, actually I am. But I assure you, you’re not in any trouble. Certainly nothing that would warrant a shootout.”
    She smiled at him, but when he didn’t return it, hers melted away.
    He couldn’t place her drawl. Ozarks, perhaps, or maybe rural West.
    “You’re not old enough to be a cop.”
    “I’m nineteen.”
    “Like I said. You’re no cop. Now get out of here.”
    “Yes, sir, it’s true, I’m a bit young. Still, where I’m from it’s legal age, and nobody wanted the job. Small town, low pay, not much action. But my fellow citizens knew I had an interest in law enforcement, so hell, they got together and elected me.”
    “Where is that? The place you’re from?”
    She was silent. She drifted a couple of steps to the right, taking a soft angle in his direction. Arms still behind her back like she was cuffed.
    “Most people never heard of my dinky town. Just two stoplights, a cowboy bar, a Dairy Queen, and a Dollar General. But maybe you know it, because your wife, Ms. Stabler, was born there. Starkville, Oklahoma.”

 
     
    SIX
     
    THORN WAS DIGESTING THAT, WATCHING her take another step his way.
    “Look, Mr. Thorn, before we get any farther along, you’re going to need to set that weapon down.”
    “If I don’t?”
    “I don’t believe we want to explore that alternative.”
    “You’re here on official business?”
    “Call it half and half. Official, and personal.”
    “Forget it,” Thorn said. “You got a problem, I don’t give a rat’s ass. Take it somewhere else. Get out of here. I don’t want any part of this. I’ve had two lifetimes of problems already.”
    “I understand. You lost your wife, you’re mourning.”
    “You hear me? Get out of here now. Go haul your ass back to Oklahoma. I don’t want anything you’re selling.”
    She stepped closer to Thorn by a few more inches. Her face rippled in the firelight. Pale skin etched with black squiggles.
    “That’s it,” Thorn said. “Cop or no cop.”
    He raised the pistol. Only to turn her around and get her headed to her car. To show her how serious he was. This was his land; she was trespassing.
    He saw the first muzzle flash then heard a roar, and another blast and one more after that. His right hand bucked, and on its own, his arm flew straight up in the air like some eager schoolkid waving for attention.
    A whanging pain erupted in his hand as if he’d been hammered with a sledge. Thorn stumbled to his right, his shoulder numb. Rusty’s pistol, her dad’s suicide gun, was tumbling through the grass.
    “Okay, now,” she said. “Are we cool?”
    “You shot that out of my goddamn hand.”
    “Didn’t give me much choice.”
    “In the dark.”
    “Firelight helped. It wasn’t that tough a shot.”
    “You missed twice and kept shooting.”
    “Missed three times actually.”
    “Christ, you could’ve blown my hand off.”
    “I factored that in.”
    “That’s from some half-assed cowboy movie.”
    Stepping closer, wary, her pistol raised, a .38.
    “Movie gunslingers get it on the first try. This was a little messier than I would’ve liked.”
    Thorn’s chest was hammering. The ash from the fire stung his eyes and his throat burned with its bitter taste.
    “Isn’t much crime around Starkville, so I spend a good bit of time out at the shooting range. I got a good eye and a steady aim.”
    Thorn tried to work his fingers.
    “Not steady enough.”
    “Probably should ice that hand,” she said. “Gonna get puffy and sore. Could’ve broken something. Can you move your fingers?”
    “You’ve done that a lot, have you?”
    “No, sir. You’re my first. Pictured it a few times, but never had sufficient provocation.”
    She smiled and the firelight lit up her cheeks. They were covered by strange black hieroglyphics.
    Thorn tried to make a fist but couldn’t close the hand. No fractures but an ache rooted deep in the tissues.
    “There’s ice,” he said. “Inside.”
    In the