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

"No," Sanders admitted. A twitch of relief shot through Billy's skin. "But I have probable cause. And this pistol. So, you can either step outside right now or I will shoot you in the head and claim it was self defense. I doubt the local prosecutor will think much of it. He and I go way back."

The relief in Billy's eyes vanished. "Fine, Sheriff. Take me in. But I want an attorney."

"Move."

Sanders flicked the pistol toward the door.

Billy slowly set the coffee mugs on the counter and raised his hands. "I'm moving. Relax, Craig."

Billy eased around the kitchen island and made his way to the door with Sanders close behind. The cop kept the pistol aimed straight at his captive's spine. If he so much as twitched the wrong way, Sanders would drop him right there.

The prisoner opened the door and stepped out into the cold. "Can I at least get a coat?" he asked.

"It's warm in my ride," Sanders countered. "Get moving."

"Okay. Okay. Take it easy."

Billy descended the steps and landed on the snow-dusted gravel with a crunch. Sanders looked toward his SUV as he followed, wondering when the stranger would make his appearance.

Five steps away from the porch, Sanders heard a subtle crinkling sound behind him. He started to turn his head, but a muted pop sounded over the parking lot. The noise was little more than a click, but the bullet it accompanied zipped through the back quarter of the sheriff's head.

The sheriff dropped to the ground with a thud.

Billy heard the sound and whirled around. Surprise and fear soured his expression as he stared into icy cold familiar eyes. His gaze fell to the barrel pointed straight at his forehead.

"Bo? How did you—?"

The muzzle puffed and sent the round through Billy's skull. For a second, the legs held, then buckled. Billy fell to the ground a few feet from the sheriff.

Fourteen

Cuchara

Dak's plans were thrown out the window the second he arrived at Purgatory Mountain.

He could see the cluster of police SUVs and patrol cars gathered around the driveway entrance as he rounded a bend in the road an eighth of a mile away. He scowled at the sight, wondering what Billy was up to.

Dak rolled to a stop in front of the driveway and lowered his window. Four cops stood guard at the gate. Their casual conversation ended when Dak's SUV came to a halt.

One of the officers, a younger guy with a clean-shaven face, noticed Dak and stepped toward the vehicle.

"Gonna have to ask you to keep moving, sir," the cop said.

"Is everything okay?"

The cop cocked his head to the side, his cheek brushing against the shoulder of a thick, hunter-green coat. The expression on his face begged the question, "does it look like everything is okay?" To his credit, the officer didn't go that route. "This is a crime scene, sir, and we're conducting an investigation."

Dak didn't press the issue. He nodded, thanked the deputy, and gently pressed on the gas. As the SUV accelerated away, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror at the collection of cops loitering around the driveway.

Crime scene? What crime?

He had a strange feeling in his gut that he already knew the answer, or at least partly.

His thoughts raced. The initial plan had been to do a little recon of the mountain, get a feel for the layout by driving by it a few times, circling around as much as possible. He wouldn't make a move on Billy's cabin until he'd analyzed every approach angle and even then, he'd need a way to figure out where any security cameras were hidden in the woods that could set off an alarm or alert Billy to his presence.

All of that went out the door. Something happened at the top of Purgatory Mountain, and Dak needed to find out what.

Part of his scheme was to see if the general store had any old ski run maps from the abandoned resorts. While such a pamphlet was hardly the detailed topographical map he would prefer, it would give Dak a general idea of the mountain's layout.

He felt his heart beating faster than normal and focused on slowing his breathing as he continued into the small town. It was getting close to lunch, and he knew the bar would be open, though he did not intend to go there.

Dak needed information, and fast.

He steered the SUV into a parking spot in front of the general store and killed the engine. He stepped out of the vehicle and walked up to the front door, taking a quick look around to survey the lot. A few other cars, but no threat appeared in his view.

He pushed the door open and walked into the tiny purveyor's shop. The tightly packed aisles offered snacks, bread, cereals, cans of soup, candy, and a wide selection of other grocery goods. While the building was small, Dak marveled at how the owners were able to pack so many items inside. In the back, a refrigerator ran the length of the wall and stretched down the left side, creating an L shape. Milk, soft drinks, beer, and juices filled the chilled shelves.

To his left, an older woman worked the cash register. She was easily eight inches shorter than Dak. Her graying, curly hair dangled over huge, round glasses. Her light blue zip-up hoodie draped over her, hanging just below the waist.

"Morning," she greeted. "Anything I can help you with?"

Dak checked around to make sure she was talking to him. One other person in the room perused an assortment of beer in the back. With so many to choose from, Dak figured the guy would probably be there for several minutes. If he'd known what kind he wanted upon arrival, he would have already been standing at the checkout counter.

"Actually," Dak said as he ambled to the counter, "maybe you can. It's a pretty random request, but I was wondering if you had any old maps of