cash drawer then smashed the register. Damon checked his watch and scanned the rest of the store, trying to decide if there was anything else he should grab. He ignored the rifles; they were all hunting weapons or surplus military rifles. The guns Beaumont had picked up for the militia would be far better than anything here. In the back room he found a pair of MAC-11 machine pistols stored in a locker. He grabbed those as well, figuring that somewhere along the line the eleven hundred round-per-minute rate of fire would come in handy.
Damon went out the back door and loaded the weapons into his dark van. As an afterthought, he tossed the bat in with them. Then he set about working on the door to the building with a sledgehammer, hoping that the racket wouldn’t attract any attention as he smashed the knob and hinges. Mission accomplished, at least in his mind, Damon climbed into the van and drove off to Beaumont’s house. He was pleased to see that no cars pulled in behind him.
#
Miranda watched Damon’s van pull out from behind the store. She waited for Beaumont to follow before she pulled out after her quarry, but the older man’s sedan never appeared. Instinct made her pause, and she watched the van disappear for a single despairing minute before she decided that Beaumont’s absence might be worth investigating. She parked her car around the corner from the store and approached it on foot.
Despite the blurred view through the barred windows, Miranda could tell something was wrong. The front door was barred and locked as it should have been, so she went around to the back of the building. There she saw the battered door hanging from its hinges.
Miranda drew her Glock, even though she knew the perpetrator had already fled the scene. She checked her surroundings; no one was in sight. Silently, she eased her way around the shattered door and into the back of the gun shop.
Out on the main floor, Beaumont lay in a pool of spreading crimson. Miranda winced at the sight. Killing Donnie Andrews and seeing her brother’s body still hadn’t taken away the nausea that came with confronting a dead body. She remembered to breathe through her mouth and approached Beaumont.
The hole through his head and the brain matter spattered on the floor behind him erased any doubt as to whether there was a hope of reviving him. Miranda was careful to steer clear of the drops and pools of blood, lest she leave any tracks or take any of it with her. She took stock of the store and noted the smashed cases and missing weapons. What the hell had Damon done? She looked closer at the body and saw one of the pockets was turned inside out. Miranda moved closer. The other was the same way. His keys, she thought. The bastard must have been after his keys.
With nothing more to do at the scene, Miranda left the store and went to her car. If she was lucky, she might be able to find Damon at Beaumont’s house.
#
Henry Beaumont owned a small farm north of Sparta. Before he died, he’d been a man who valued his privacy. Bushes masked the access road to his home, and twenty yards up that road was a gate, normally kept locked. A fence surrounded his property, electrified of course, ostensibly to keep the deer away from his few plantings. Miranda approached the property with her lights out and parked well out of sight from the main road. She noted with satisfaction that the lock on the gate hung open and the indicators on the fence showed it had been deactivated. Miranda moved forward in a crouch until she reached Beaumont’s house, where she knelt at one of the corners.
The house looked to be deserted. She strained her ears, searching for the slightest sound that didn’t fit. She moved along one of the walls of the house, ducking beneath the windows. She could see a trailer and a shed sitting on the back property, but nothing that seemed out of place. No doors or windows were forced open, but if Damon had the keys to the place, he wouldn’t have
Damon went out the back door and loaded the weapons into his dark van. As an afterthought, he tossed the bat in with them. Then he set about working on the door to the building with a sledgehammer, hoping that the racket wouldn’t attract any attention as he smashed the knob and hinges. Mission accomplished, at least in his mind, Damon climbed into the van and drove off to Beaumont’s house. He was pleased to see that no cars pulled in behind him.
#
Miranda watched Damon’s van pull out from behind the store. She waited for Beaumont to follow before she pulled out after her quarry, but the older man’s sedan never appeared. Instinct made her pause, and she watched the van disappear for a single despairing minute before she decided that Beaumont’s absence might be worth investigating. She parked her car around the corner from the store and approached it on foot.
Despite the blurred view through the barred windows, Miranda could tell something was wrong. The front door was barred and locked as it should have been, so she went around to the back of the building. There she saw the battered door hanging from its hinges.
Miranda drew her Glock, even though she knew the perpetrator had already fled the scene. She checked her surroundings; no one was in sight. Silently, she eased her way around the shattered door and into the back of the gun shop.
Out on the main floor, Beaumont lay in a pool of spreading crimson. Miranda winced at the sight. Killing Donnie Andrews and seeing her brother’s body still hadn’t taken away the nausea that came with confronting a dead body. She remembered to breathe through her mouth and approached Beaumont.
The hole through his head and the brain matter spattered on the floor behind him erased any doubt as to whether there was a hope of reviving him. Miranda was careful to steer clear of the drops and pools of blood, lest she leave any tracks or take any of it with her. She took stock of the store and noted the smashed cases and missing weapons. What the hell had Damon done? She looked closer at the body and saw one of the pockets was turned inside out. Miranda moved closer. The other was the same way. His keys, she thought. The bastard must have been after his keys.
With nothing more to do at the scene, Miranda left the store and went to her car. If she was lucky, she might be able to find Damon at Beaumont’s house.
#
Henry Beaumont owned a small farm north of Sparta. Before he died, he’d been a man who valued his privacy. Bushes masked the access road to his home, and twenty yards up that road was a gate, normally kept locked. A fence surrounded his property, electrified of course, ostensibly to keep the deer away from his few plantings. Miranda approached the property with her lights out and parked well out of sight from the main road. She noted with satisfaction that the lock on the gate hung open and the indicators on the fence showed it had been deactivated. Miranda moved forward in a crouch until she reached Beaumont’s house, where she knelt at one of the corners.
The house looked to be deserted. She strained her ears, searching for the slightest sound that didn’t fit. She moved along one of the walls of the house, ducking beneath the windows. She could see a trailer and a shed sitting on the back property, but nothing that seemed out of place. No doors or windows were forced open, but if Damon had the keys to the place, he wouldn’t have
Similar Books
