Personal Justice

A

Tammy spun in his direction and came to her feet, the pistol gripped in both hands, her eyes sighting down the barrel. “Stay back,” she screamed. “I’ll shoot both of you and I won’t miss.”

One onlooker fled, the other two backed off, while still others gathered from a safe distance.

A

“Put the gun down, Tammy,” Jake said.

Tammy glanced frantically in Jake’s direction and kept the weapon trained on A

A moment later, a brown Chevy squealed to a stop on the other side of the narrow street. Hank sprang out and came to a shooting position, his weapon in his hand.

“Police. Drop the gun!”

Tammy whirled to face Hank, her weapon poised, desperation now in her eyes.

Hank sighted carefully. “Drop the gun or I’ll shoot.”

The killer held the weapon firmly in both hands as she circled, training the gun on A

Hank took a careful step forward, his eyes on Tammy’s face, his weapon never wavering. “It’s over. Drop it now before somebody gets hurt.”

Tammy stared wild-eyed down the sights toward Hank, her jaw clenched. Then her finger tightened on the trigger and she dropped to a crouch, a shot exploding from her weapon.

Hank dropped at the same moment and fired once.

An onlooker screamed as Tammy’s arms fell to her side and her eyes bulged. The gun slipped from her hand, bounced on the concrete, and remained still. The killer buckled to the sidewalk beside her weapon.

A

Hank’s shot had found its mark. The hole through the killer’s heart ensured she would kill no more.

Epilogue

Friday, 4:40 p.m.

JAKE SIGNED his name at the bottom of his statement and turned to A

“Done,” he said, picking up A

The cop looked up from his mound of paperwork, took the statements from Jake, and added them to his stack.

“Paperwork always ensures an exciting case comes to a tedious close,” Hank said. “Sometimes it takes longer to document the case than it took to solve it.”

Jake gri

“And you’re not hampered by having to shoot anyone,” Hank added. “That always makes the wrap-up twice as painful.”

“And twice as sad,” A

“Suicide by cop,” Hank said. “To some, it’s the easy way out of an impossible situation. Rather than face life in prison, they choose to end it all.”

Hank looked up as King strolled over to the desk carrying A

King ignored Hank and gave the bag to A

Hank took the transcription, sca

“How’d you manage that?” Jake asked.

A

“That’ll save me a lot of headaches pi

King laughed. “And to show you that bad guys finish first, the crown isn’t going to charge Shaft for assaulting Lisa Krunk.”

“I suspect that’s because they have a weak case.” Hank chucked. “And the fact Lisa has been none too kind to law enforcement in the past might have something to do with their decision.”

“You’re probably right,” King said. “And Lisa won’t pursue charges because she made a deal with Shaft for his complete story and an interview.”

“So everybody wins,” Jake said.

“Everybody but the dead people,” King said, leaning on the edge of the desk and crossing his arms. “Forensics is still going over the car, but so far, they found blood stains in the trunk, and I’m sure when it’s analyzed, it’ll prove to belong to her husband.”

“I’m not sure if there’s any way to prove it,” Hank said thoughtfully. “But I suspect the bruises on Tammy Norton were not because her husband beat her, but rather from a life and death struggle with him.”

“Did you find out who owns the house where she held A

Hank shuffled through the papers and withdrew one. “The Nortons were housesitting for a family on a European vacation. She took the liberty of using it as a safe-house, so to speak.”

“And where’s the money?” Jake asked.

Hank shrugged and looked at King. King shrugged back. “It might turn up in the search of Tammy’s house, but who knows? It could be locked away in a safe deposit box somewhere.”

“I bet Rocky Shaft would love to get his hands on it,” A

“It might never show up,” Hank said. “But if it does, it’ll be confiscated.”

Jake looked around the precinct. “I hope it’s found. You guys could use a few upgrades in here. Half a mill might get you a new desk, Hank.”

The cop laughed. “I’d be happy with a new chair.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “Maybe we could replace that useless air conditioner over there.”

Jake stood. “If we’re done here, I have a very important client I need to see.”

“What is it this time?” Hank asked. “A smuggling ring, or maybe international art thieves?”

“Something more important,” Jake said. “I have to find a lost dog.”

###

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Rayven T. Hill

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