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Trev dumped Francine off his shoulder. He spread himself out flat on the street. |
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A slug whined off the pavement near his face. |
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He twisted his head to the left. Lost his eyeholes. With one hand, he turned the bag until he could see again. |
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A man in plain sight. An old, bald guy in a plaid shirt, standing some fifty feet away under the shelter of his porch roof. The porch was lighted. Even as Trev spotted him, the geezer levered his rifle and put another shot through the screen. The bullet chopped the curb near Sandy. |
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He killed Lisa and he's not even fucking wet! |
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'Hold your fire, damn it!' Trev yelled. 'I'm a police officer!' |
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'Whoop-de-doo, fella!' He swung the barrel in Trev's direction and fired again. The bullet struck the street somewhere behind Trev's head. |
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'Stop it! Just let us pass. We've got no business with you.' Except you killed Lisa, Trev thought. |
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'I got business with you!' the man called. He levered another round into the chamber as Trev shoved himself up to his knees and the bag blinded him and he threw it off along with Patterson's hat and he could see again and the rain felt good on his head and he braced his aiming hand and the man sighted in on him and fired. Something stung Trev's thigh. Something else slopped against it, and Trev snapped off four shots as fast as he could pull the trigger. The old man jerked, staggered backward and fell out of sight. |
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