The chase continues,with Roy and Dustin against Jordan. Who will come out on top? Read this week's chapter of The Sheriff and see what's going on! Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what they're up to. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
The Sheriff #53 (13.1)
The parking lot of the old Hamilton factory was completely
empty, the building long vacant. The owners had packed up years ago and left
town. A forlorn For Sale sign was
staked into the ground, giving the name of a local realtor. A few of the
windows were broken, probably by kids with nothing better to do than test their
skills at rock throwing.
Which made this an ideal location for dealing with Jordan,
once and for all.
Now, how to diffuse the situation so that no one got hurt.
Roy decided to draw on his knowledge of human nature, garnered over many years
as a private investigator and then lawman. To calculate what that asshole might
do.
“Dustin, do you trust me?” he asked as he spun the wheel,
turning into the large parking lot.
“Absolutely,” Dustin replied, without hesitation.
“What I’m gonna do might be kindof a Hail Mary, but I think
it will work. Just hold on tight, okay?”
“You got it, Roy.”
Roy gunned the accelerator. The truck flew across the lot,
jumping and jolting from bumps and potholes that hadn’t been tended since the
business had left town. It was a damn bumpy ride, but Roy figured Jordan’s car
might not fare as well as his more rugged truck.
And there he was, right on cue. Roy watched as Jordan
entered the parking lot, a few car lengths behind them. The trouble was, Roy
was running out of lot. He’d be on the side street that ran beside the factory
in just seconds. Time to put his plan into action. Take the bull by the horns
and meet it head on, so to speak.
At the last possible second, he spun the wheel. The truck
did a one-eighty and was now facing in directly toward Jordan.
Please let me be
right. He knew he wouldn’t get a second chance. He stepped on the gas.
* * * *
Dustin tightened his grip on Roy with one hand, the other
between his legs, holding tight to the edge of the seat. He trusted Roy with
all his heart. Even in the middle of this dangerous game of chicken he was
playing with Jordan. Roy was obviously counting on the fact that Jordan was
basically a coward, and would back down before the vehicles collided.
Dustin’s heart was racing as Roy accelerated toward Jordan’s
car. The seconds seemed infinitely slow and much too fast at the same time. The
truck and the car were on a collision course—one or the other had to give.
“I love you, Roy,” he said, although he couldn’t be sure his
voice could be heard above that the engine. Roy made no response, but Dustin
hadn’t expected one.
Jordan was growing closer, and closer, and just when Dustin
thought this was it, they would surely
smash into one another, Jordan swerved out of the way. Roy slammed on the
brakes and spun the truck once more, back the way they’d come. Jordan must have
lost control of his car. He must have fishtailed and was struggling to regain
mastery of his vehicle.
Roy quickly braked and pulled out his pistol, aiming out the
window. Surely he didn’t intend to shoot Jordan, Dustin wondered. Maybe it was
just a precaution. The next thing he knew Roy had fired two shots in rapid
succession, and the rear end of Jordan’s car sagged.
“Stay here,” Roy ordered, as he slid out of the cab.
“Not happening,” Dustin muttered as he climbed out after his
lover.
“Come out with your hands up,” Roy commanded Jordan, who was
still futilely spinning his wheels.
Suddenly the darkness of the night with broken by flash
lights, as three police cars converged on the scene. Dustin breathed a sigh of
relief. Jordan wasn’t dumb enough to initiate a shoot-out when the odds were so
clearly against him.
As Dustin watched, Jordan exited the vehicle, hands held
high. He walked toward them, smirking. As if he wasn’t in a world of trouble.
What did he have to be so cocky about?
The three police cars came to a halt, effectively blocking
Jordan’s exit, should he try to escape in flat-tired vehicle. The deputies got
out of their vehicles, guns drawn and aimed toward Jordan, even as Sheriff
Sinclair approached.
“You two think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Jordan taunted
them. “This is nothing. You got nothing on me. I’ll get a slap on the wrist and
be back on the streets in no time. And then we’ll settle this score, Dustin.
You’ll see.”
“Shut up,” Sheriff Sinclair said. He grabbed Dustin’s hands
and cuffed them behind his back. “Let me tell you something first.” He
proceeded to read Jordan his rights, but Jordan only rolled his eyes and
yawned, as if he was bored.
“So you like little boys, do you?” Jordan’s words were
clearly aimed at Roy, who never even flinched. “This one’s a punk, but I guess
he’s adequate in the sack.”
Without warning, Sinclair delivered a blow to his gut which
doubled him over. “Sorry, my hand slipped,” he apologized. “You did get those
rights, didn’t you?”
Jordan made no immediate reply. Roy slid his arm around
Dustin protectively. “You watch that smart mouth of yours,” he warned Jordan.
“Where you’re going, that’ll get you in trouble. When it’s not busy being used
for other purposes.”
Jordan raised his head, not quite so cocky now, glaring at
both Dustin and Roy. But before he could say anything, Sheriff Sinclair spoke.
“By the way, your accomplices already gave you up. You’re not going to see the
light of day for a long time.” He motioned to a deputy. “Take him in, I’ll be
right behind you. Go ahead and book him.”
As a cursing Jordan was led away, the Sheriff turned toward
them. “You guys okay?”
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