The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

It was a simple role for him to play since that's exactly how he'd lost his wife.

As long as the stranger believed that Sanders bought his story, he wouldn't be a threat.

He knew the man was armed. Maybe he hadn't been when he came to the office the previous afternoon. He claimed he was unarmed. That would have been smart. Entering a police station with a firearm… not so much.

None of that mattered. The man in the back would get the first bullet. Billy would get the second, although Sanders planned on letting the man who killed his son get more than one. He'd probably start with a knee, then the top of a foot, the groin, and work his way up until the final round went through Trask's head.

He would suffer for what he did to his son. That much was already decided.

The sheriff guided the vehicle around the last bend, and the cabin came into view. The modern design featured a single roof that slanted down toward the driveway, covering a porch that wrapped around to the front. A matching work shed stood off to the right.

The sheriff had been to the cabin before, right after Tyler… Billy had finished construction. Sanders preferred the older style log cabins to these modern ones, but he had to appreciate the location. The view was incredible, and in the back of his mind, the sheriff started considering how he might acquire the property when the owner was gone. That would be months down the line, but the daydream prodded at his mind as he pulled up to the building and shifted the transmission into park.

"Stay in here and keep a lookout," Sanders ordered. "When you see us come out the front door, you can get out."

There was no protocol for this. Sanders hinged everything on the belief that the stranger would do as told. But why wouldn't he? The sheriff was helping the man catch his quarry in a subtle, legal manner.

"Whatever you say, Sheriff. I'm a lawman too. I know how to play by the rules."

Sanders didn't buy it for a second, but he gave a curt nod to acknowledge the man's statement, and climbed out of the car.

The air had cooled more overnight and a fresh layer of thin powder coated the gravel driveway underfoot. It squished and crunched beneath the sheriff's boots as he approached the cabin.

As he neared the steps, the wooden, windowless door opened.

Billy stood inside, holding a white coffee mug.

"Come on in, Sheriff. I'll finish up my breakfast and we can head out. Got a fresh pot of coffee if you'd like a cup."

"Sure," Sanders said reluctantly. The ache in his heart still throbbed from the loss of his son. That feeling only swelled as he climbed the steps, drawing close to the man who had befriended and then killed him. "Good morning for a hot cup of joe."

"It sure is," Billy said. He closed the door once Sanders was inside and led the way to the kitchen.

He set down his mug next to a nearly empty plate of eggs, toast, and cottage cheese, and made his way over to the coffeepot in the corner.

Billy took down a mug with the Colorado state flag imprinted on the side and proceeded to fill it with the remains of the pot. He turned around, holding the mug at waist level. When Billy saw the sheriff holding his pistol he abruptly halted, spilling steaming liquid onto the floor near his boot.

"Sheriff?" Billy asked. "What are you doing?"

"I know who you are, Billy," he said, slandering the name with his tone.

"What are you talking about?" Billy kept his movements to a minimum, though he noted the heat on his jeans where some of the coffee had soaked through.

"Billy Trask?" Sanders clarified. "You came here throwing your money around, buying up friends, allies, and what you probably thought was security. Did you think you could get away with it?"

Billy inclined his head and sighed, rapidly coming to grips with what Sanders meant. "Fine, Sheriff. You got me. My name isn't Tyler Mumford. But that isn't a crime. I changed my name? So what? People do that all the time, don't they? There are certain people I would rather not find me. Okay?"

"Oh, I'm sure there are." Sanders kept the presence of the stranger in his car to himself.

"Look, Sheriff. Let's sit down and talk about this. I haven't broken any laws. Just… put the gun down and we can figure this out."

Sanders looked at the younger man as if an alien were about to pop out of his chest. He cocked his head to the side, analyzing Trask with hardened, pain-gripped eyes. "You murdered Tripp and the other two," he said finally. "Killed them in cold blood. Why? Why did you do it, Billy?"

Billy's face tightened. "Sheriff, you know me better than that. I don't know who would say such a thing, but I wasn't even at the bar last night. I was here the whole time."

"Is that right? Seems like you got there pretty fast, Billy." Sanders spat the name. "Like maybe you were close by after leaving the scene of the crime." The cop felt the trigger tighten against his finger. Every instinct in his soul told him to squeeze and end this murderer at that very moment, but that would make things tricky. Blood would get everywhere. Sanders knew he had to stick to the plan.

"Look, Craig," Billy said desperately, using the sheriff's first name. "Your son was my friend. Steve and John, too. Now, I want to find this killer as much as you do, but it wasn't me. You have to believe me."

Sanders shook his head grimly. "No, Billy. I don't. Step outside."

"What are you going to do, Sheriff? Arrest me? On what grounds?"

"Murder charges. Three of them."

"You have a warrant?" Billy clenched his jaw. He knew how things worked, or at least how they were supposed to. This guy couldn't do