Archer Mayor - The Skeleton's knee

He was halfway down the passage, his right side to me, similarly surprised but already twisting to get off a shot, when I saw Al Hammond’s face appear beyond him, above the tall counter that had been pushed up against the entrance. He was staring down the sights of a Winchester pump shotgun.

Simultaneously, we both yelled, “Freeze.”

And miraculously, fighting his own momentum with instincts worthy of a cat, the man froze in a half-crouch, his gun almost bearing on my chest.

“Drop it.” There was the hint of a smile then, the man opened his hand, and the gun fell to the floor with a dull clatter.

Outside, ten minutes later, with the side of the old barn flickering in the blue lights of four state police cruisers, I watched as the gunman, handcuffed but outwardly unconcerned, was helped into the back of one of the cars.

A state trooper-the sergeant in command-paused in his interview of me to watch the car drive off. “Cold-blooded son of a bitch, isn’t he?”

I nodded. “How did you know to look in the barn?”

“Some woman came running up as we were checking the crowd, said she’d heard gunshots.”

“She still here?”

“I asked her to stay put, but one of my men just told me she took off. Probably didn’t want to get all tangled up in this.”

I took a deep breath of the fresh night air, wondering where Susan Pendergast was headed now and what would become of her. She was certainly no saint, but if the world let her keep her secrets, she still had much to offer. I knew I’d do my part-she’d gained my respect and my vote for another chance. I’d drop the investigation where it was and let Brandt sort out the public relations.

Unfortunately, Susan would never know that for sure, any more than she’d know whether Bonatto now considered the slate clean or still wanted her dead.

It made me wonder how much longer she’d keep paying the price of freedom, and whether, someday, she’d ever question the value of all her efforts. I hoped, for her sake and for those who stood to benefit from her talents, that she’d keep on fighting.

“I don’t know, Sergeant. Maybe she thought she’d done the best she could.”