Chapter 12 - The Second Barrel
The metallic click of the rifle bolt froze everyone in the clearing. Deputy Vance spun around instantly, sweeping his service weapon toward the dark edge of the pine forest, shielding Leo and Sarah with his own body.
“Drop the weapon and step out where I can see you!” Vance shouted into the gloom, his voice echoing sharply across the empty fields.
For a tense moment, nothing moved. The wind died down entirely, leaving only the ragged breathing of Sarah from inside the shed and Clara’s muffled sobs in the dirt. Then, slowly, a tall figure emerged from the dense shadows of the trees, holding a heavy hunting rifle loosely at his side.
It was Miller, the county road worker. But the friendly, casual expression he always wore at the post office was completely gone. His eyes were cold, calculating, and dead, fixed entirely on the deputy.
“Put the piece away, Vance,” Miller said in a flat, unyielding voice. “This doesn’t concern the department. Arthur and I had an agreement.”
Arthur’s head whipped around toward Miller, panic flashing in his eyes. “Miller! What are you doing? Get out of here!”
“Shut up, Arthur, you already botched the whole thing,” Miller spat back, raising the barrel of the hunting rifle until it was aimed squarely at Deputy Vance’s chest. “I told you months ago that keeping her alive was a liability. I told you we should have finished it the night of the storm.”
Vance didn't lower his gun. He adjusted his stance, his muscles coiled like steel springs. “So you’re the one who helped him bury the hitchhiker, Miller. You’re the one who helped him fake her death reports.”
“I’m the one who keeps this valley clean,” Miller replied coldly, his finger tightening slightly on the rifle’s trigger. “People like Sarah cause trouble. They start asking questions about where the county grant money goes, and suddenly whole families fall apart. Arthur was weak. He wanted a domestic hostage instead of a clean solution.”
Leo backed away from the shed door, his small hands trembling as he looked between the armed men. He reached down instinctively and picked up the heavy iron hammer from the dirt, gripping it with white knuckles.
Sarah strained against her ropes inside the dark room, her voice rising in a desperate warning. “Vance, watch out! He’s got a second pistol in his canvas belt!”
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Before Vance could react, Miller’s rifle flashed in the twilight. A deafening roar shattered the evening quiet, and a spray of wood splinters exploded from the shed frame right beside Sarah’s head.
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