One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (top rated ebook readers TXT) 📕

“I just want to show you something,” he replied, without an ounce of fear in his voice.

“She said show your hands!” Warren screamed.

“But I—” He inched forward again, his body becoming more visible as he stepped into the light. “I have one just like it,” he added with an odd lightness to his voice.

He stepped fully into the doorframe, and Tara felt her heart begin to pound as she saw exactly what he was referring to. Placed against his temple, his hand holding it steady, sat a 9-millimeter pistol.

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he began, his finger now placed on the trigger.

She didn’t quite know what he was referring to but she didn’t have time to question him either. She slowly lowered her gun.

“James, please put the gun down,” she said, watching his hand carefully.

“Why?” he asked sharply, his face tense with rage, “Why should I put it down? Huh? So you can shoot me?”

Tara chose her words carefully. “We are not going to hurt you, James. I promise.” She placed her gun in her belt as she raised her arms toward him to prove her words.

He whimpered as his face distorted into frustration. He bit his lip before opening his mouth to speak.

“I have nothing to lose!” he screamed, now waving his gun in the air. “Nothing!” he screamed again. “No one can help me.” He was full-on sobbing now.

Tara suddenly realized how stupid it was to put her gun down. She had wanted to keep him calm by doing so, but now she was left without a defense. She moved her hand cautiously to it again, but just when her hand was on top of the holster, James caught the movement, and his gun turned toward her.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you!” he screamed.

And suddenly, a piercing bang filled the air.

***

Tara stood in silence—a constant ringing still pulsating through her ears. About twenty minutes had gone by, but she could still feel it. It hadn’t taken long for the ambulance to arrive, and for James Hayden to get put on a stretcher, for his leg to get bandaged up, and now the EMTs were carefully placing him into the ambulance.

But Tara was still trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. Warren stood nearby, talking to a local officer before walking back over to her. She felt ashamed and embarrassed that she had let her guard down, and that again she had put them both in harm’s way.

“Thank you,” she uttered when Warren was close enough to hear her.

Those were the only words that came to her mind. He saved her life after all, shooting James in the leg. She would’ve never been able to react quickly enough, and that thought terrified her beyond measure.

“Don’t thank me,” Warren said as he walked past her, toward the front door of the house. “We’re partners. We protect each other.”

Tara followed behind him, wondering why he wasn’t as angry as she thought he would be. But just when Warren was close enough to the door, he turned around to face her, looking her straight in the eyes.

“Don’t you ever put your guard down like that again. Do you understand me?” He waved his finger at his words. “As much as you think you understand a situation, you don’t. A mistake in this job could cost you your life, and all it takes is one split second of misjudgment.”

Tara nodded her head as the shame and horror of the situation flooded through her body, twisting her stomach into an anxious knot. She should’ve known better. He was right.

But just as quickly as Warren reprimanded her, he was opening the door of the house, fully focused on their mission in front of him. By doing so, Tara knew he was sending another message, whether he was aware of it or not. They needed to stay on track, stay focused, and he was going to let this slide. And at that, Tara shifted her focus too.

Warren pushed the door wide open, revealing the mess inside, and it was immediately clear that the man was certainly a hoarder. As they stepped in, Tara scanned the wall for a light switch and flipped it on, making the mess even more visible. They stood in the living room, boxes piled in every which way. Tara bent down and carefully opened one of them, sending a cloud of dust into the air. She coughed uncontrollably.

“How do people live like this?” she asked, as she gained control over her coughing fit.

“I have no idea,” Warren said as he did the same from across the room, reaching into one of the boxes to see what was inside. “What did you find?” he added.

Tara opened the box wide. Inside lay piles of DVDs.

“Just a bunch of DVDs of old movies,” she said as she dug deeper before standing back up. “What about you? Find anything?”

“Nothing interesting.” He pushed a bunch of stuff around in the box he was digging through. “Just some more DVDs and CDs.”

He stood up and moved onto another. Tara did the same, and then moved onto another after that, and another after that—continuously moving around the room, digging through more meaningless objects until Tara finally looked up in surprise.

“I think I found something,” she said as she reached into one of the boxes that contained hundreds of prescription medicine bottles.

She pulled them out, one at a time, holding them up to the light and reading the label—each bottle prescribed to a different person. They had to have been stolen, Tara assumed—something only a drug addict would do. But that would explain James’s odd behavior.

“What is it?” Warren asked as he walked closer. He stopped just over her shoulder.

Tara passed them behind her and Warren read the labels.

“No wonder he was acting odd. They’re almost all empty,” he replied.

They both agreed that it would explain his odd behavior, but it wasn’t exactly what they were looking for. None of the names on