Lori Armstrong - Merciless

Son of a bitch. That fucker had shot me.

Now I was really pissed. I knelt down and lightly touched the rip in my pants. My fingers came away wet. Gritting my teeth, I drew my finger across the spot more firmly, discovering it was only a flesh wound. Bled like a bitch, but I didn’t have a bullet lodged in my leg. If I left it alone, it’d clot so I could finish what I’d started.

I heard pounding footfalls and looked up just as Sheldon rushed me. I rolled into him, instead of away from him, and he skidded face-first across the ground.

I bounced up and stomped my boot heel on his wrist, forcing him to release his gun while I placed the rifle muzzle on the back of his head. “Don’t fucking move.” I reached down and picked up his gun. A Glock. I ejected the clip, letting it hit the ground. “Tell me where she is.”

“You cheated,” he snapped, turning his head sideways to glare at me.

“Tough shit. What have you done with Sophie?”

“Tough shit,” he mimicked. “I’m not telling you anything.”

With the AR-15, I aimed for the dirt and fired at the ground next to his thigh. “The next bullet goes in that thigh. Where is Sophie?”

He laughed. “You’re bluffing.”

I shot him in the leg. Using his gun and the last bullet that’d been left in the chamber.

He screamed.

When he quit whimpering, I shoved his empty gun in my pocket and repeated, “Where is Sophie?”

“I’ll die before I tell you.”

“I doubt it, but I’m willing to test that theory. I’ve got two full clips, Sheldon. I can give you a whole bunch of two-twenty-three-cal piercings until you start talking.”

“You’re a cold bitch.”

I shot him in the arm.

He screamed again.

When he quit whimpering, I placed the gun muzzle on the back of his neck. “Next bullet will be the start of your necklace.”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I didn’t take her, okay? I only told you I took her because you wouldn’t know any different.”

“Liar.”

“I swear. The day before yesterday, Sophie and John-John came into the archives with Penny’s death certificate to update the tribal rolls. I overheard them talking. John-John was taking Sophie to a weeklong sweat ceremony in Eagle Butte. They weren’t telling anyone where they were going.”

“Not even Devlin?”

“They said he was going to a poker tournament in Deadwood.”

“Bullshit. You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I swear.”

“Then how did you use Sophie’s voice when I demanded proof of life?”

“Remember I told you I was at the crime scene? I had a mini tape recorder with me, and I recorded Sophie wailing. And John-John, too.”

That’s why Sophie’s response had sounded familiar-I’d heard it live. “Why, you sick fuck?”

“Because I got off on hearing their reactions. Over and over.” His voice dropped to that grotesque purr again. “I used the recording on you, and you fell for it. You really believed I’d kidnapped Sophie and hidden her away.” Sheldon sneered, “It was almost too easy. You ain’t as smart as you think you are.”

This lowlife piece of shit had tricked me? Sophie wasn’t in danger? I was stunned by that piece of information and so relieved that I relaxed my guard.

Probably Sheldon’s intent. He rolled and knocked my feet out from under me.

I hit the ground hard but managed to keep hold of my rifle.

Then something connected with the side of my face, something that felt suspiciously like a boot.

I grunted from the pain, and my vision went wonky. The immediate ringing in my ears added another level of confusion, but I managed to duck, expecting another blow. But I heard footsteps fading as he raced away.

Now that I knew the truth, there wasn’t any reason to continue this game of hide-and-seek.

My brain went to war with itself.

Catch him and take him to the Eagle River Sheriff’s Department. Call Agent Turnbull. Turn all my information over to the FBI. Including Sheldon’s confession to me over the phone about the killings. Point them toward the evidence at his house, supporting my claim about his murder spree. Plus, he’d committed fraud on a federal level for cashing his uncle’s checks, not to mention that he’d murdered and mummified his uncle.

Letting justice take the proper course is what I’d sworn to do as an FBI agent.

But that wasn’t what I wanted to do.

Sheldon’s threats toward my family had sealed his fate.

I brought up the infrared again and scanned the vicinity.

Bingo.

He’d tried to hide behind a pine tree.

Rather than wasting ammo, I knelt down and felt the ground for a rock. I threw it toward the trees so it’d sound like I’d followed him and was flanking his left.

And Sheldon did exactly what I expected. He moved from behind the tree, out in the open.

I had my scope lined up on my target, and I pulled the trigger four times.

He crumpled like a bag of meat.

Keeping his body in the crosshairs of my scope, I stood and edged toward him. He wasn’t moving much, so I thought I’d killed him.

When I was within five feet, he wheezed, “You shot me in the back.”

“Yep.”

“Lazy. Cheating. Not sportsmanlike.”

“This isn’t a sport.”

“I can’t move my legs,” he said, panicked. “Or my arms.”

“That’s because I aimed for your spine. I severed it.”

“I’m paralyzed?” Sheldon shrieked.

I rested the muzzle above his heart. “It’s no worse than what you did to your victims.”

“But they all died. I can’t live like this.”

I leaned closer. “Oh, you’re not gonna live through this.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Good. Thank you. Kill me. Now.”

“No.”

Sheldon’s eyes reopened.

“I won’t put you out of your misery because you deserve this pain.” I slung my rifle over my back and grabbed onto the hood of his sweatshirt. Then I dragged him fifty yards into the brush.

“They’ll know you did this,” he said with another wheeze.

“How?” I removed his knife from the sheath on his utility belt. “Because of all the pictures you had of me in your garage? Pictures like the ones you left in my truck? Pictures you used to threaten me to play your stupid military game? Don’t worry, I took them.”

Understanding flashed on his face.

“Yes, while you were busy breaking into my house today? I was busy breaking into yours.” I tsk-tsked, sounding patronizing-exactly like he had during his phone call. “You are one demented motherfucker, mummifying your uncle. You killed him and kept cashing his checks. So you’ve shown yourself to be a thief, a liar, and a murderer. While I just proved that I am the superior soldier.”

Hatred brimmed in his eyes.

Using his knife, I slit the fabric of his cargo pants from ankle to crotch on both legs. The bullet hadn’t left much of an exit wound on the front side of his leg. Careful not to leave fingerprints, I removed both his boots and his socks, then tossed them aside.

“Pity you won’t feel the field mice eating off your toes. Or the birds pecking out your eyeballs. Or the coyotes snacking on your intestines.” I sliced open his shirt and saw my first shot had clipped his right hip. I ripped off a clean strip of his T-shirt and wrapped it tightly around my thigh to staunch the bleeding.

I tossed his gun on the ground, just out of his reach.

I gave his face one last contemptuous look.

And I walked away.

• • •

Actually, I ran.

After I found the tape recorder and cell phone in Sheldon’s car, after I determined nothing remained in his vehicle that pertained to me or my family, I left the door open and the keys in the ignition.