Merciless

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.

I broke down the AR and put it in the duffel bag. Next went in the night-vision goggles, the infrared, the tape recorder, and the cell phones. The van started. But it sputtered and died five minutes later on the road back to Eagle River.

I was still eleven miles from my truck and the reservation. The duffel bag had straps on the back side, allowing me to wear it as a backpack. After double-checking that I hadn’t left a trace of myself in Naomi’s van, I started out at a slow jog. Staying on the soft shoulder until I saw an approaching vehicle’s headlights. Then I ducked into the ditch, catching my breath. When the coast was clear again, I returned to pounding the pavement.

Soldiers get injured during ops. I handled it the same way I always had. Shut down any emotion and focused on my training. Mind over matter. Keeping pain in a separate compartment to deal with later. Counting each footstep. Focusing on each breath.