Page 52 of Justice for Aleta

“What? What are you talking about?” She rubbed her eyes and Jack yanked open the blinds, the brightness of the flames visible on the trees at the edge of the clearing. “Holy shit! Oh my god! The house is on fire!”

As he scrambled around to find his jeans, shirt, and shoes, she was doing the same. Over everything else, he heard something that made his blood run cold. “Unit two! Unit two, this is unit one! Respond!” Dead air space. “Unit three! Unit three, this is unit one! Respond!” Nothing. Seconds later, he knew they were doomed when the radio and everything else in the bedroom went dark. The power was cut. He and Aleta were truly on their own.

“Get your weapon and come on!” he called to her from outside the bedroom door. When he saw her behind him, the Glock in her hand, he advanced on the back door, taking one step at a time and motioning for her to keep up. The house was burning, but it would take a while for it to burn through the asbestos shingles and actually get to wood, unless the gasoline had dripped onto the ends of the rafters. Then it would travel up them under the roofing, and it would only be minutes.

At the door, Jack turned the knob silently and waited. He saw nothing, no movement anywhere, and he wondered how many of the FBI agents on their detail were either dead or disabled out there in the tree line. He stuck his head out and looked to either side of the doorway, but there was no one there. “Come on. We’re going to the barn. Stay right beside me.”

“Okay,” Aleta whispered, and he could hear the fear in her voice.

“We’ll be okay, baby. We’ve just got to regroup.” Was he trying to convince her or himself? Jack wasn’t sure, but the barn was their only chance until reinforcements arrived. “Come on!”

He grabbed her hand and darted out the door. The top step was only inches away, and he ran straight for it.

The next thing he knew, he was tumbling down the steps.Fucking trip wire!he told himself as he hit the ground, but the next sensation he had was of an arm around his neck. Then he heard a voice growl, “Well, well, well! What do we have here? You been praying to Jesus while the trooper here was fucking you, girlie?”

Jack couldn’t see Moss. The man was behind him, and he had Jack pinned up against his body. The barrel of some kind of gun pressed into Jack’s neck, and he had to believe it was the RugerSuper Redhawk. In front of him, Aleta’s terrified eyes were lit up by the flames licking up the roof of the house, and Jack knew they were screwed. Moss didn’t want him; he wanted Aleta, and he had her. One bullet to Jack’s head and Moss could walk away with her, or kill her on the spot. He was about tell Aleta to drop the gun and run when he saw something in her eyes, a flicker of some kind of emotion, and as he watched in horror, she raised the Glock.

“Aleta, no,” he whispered.

“Let him go,” she said, her hand trembling. He could see just well enough to find the outline of her finger lying along the barrel of the gun.

“Oh, for god’s sake, silly girl! I’m going to blow his head off,” Moss said with a chuckle.

“You pull that trigger and I’ll shoot. I swear it,” Aleta said, hand still shaking.

“Look at this, TrooperFletcher! You’ve got a live one here. I remember you from that morning, sweetheart. Your sad-sack husband, trying to help me, and that little baby. What was his name?”

“Shut up. I’m not answering any of your questions, you piece of shit. Turn him loose,” she snarled through clenched teeth. Jack had never heard Aleta talk like that, and it scared him a little. There was something rising in her, some sap that he’d never seen before, and he knew that meant he couldn’t anticipate what she was going to do next. She’d become a wild card, and he didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

“Tell ya what, darlin’.” Moss’s voice sickened Jack. “You put down that gun and I promise I won’t rape you before I kill you. How’s that?”

“You’re not killing anybody else today, you asshole. Isn’t that right, Jack?” Aleta asked and stared right at him.

And he got it.

“That’s right. I know you’ve already killed at least three people today,” Jack answered, knowing she’d get the reference, and he saw her nod. Everything became crystal clear. The shaky hand was an act. Adrenalin was coursing through her body, and she was in fight mode. “Three people or more. You must be proud.”

Moss laughed. “Oh, more than that, buddy. Many, many more.” God, the fucker liked to brag on himself! And that would be his downfall. Jack would make sure of it.

“No. No more than three. And there are two right here that you’re not going to get. My family deserves justice for what you did to them. I’m just the person to see that they get it,” Aleta announced, and Jack watched as the shaking hand steadied and her finger moved to the trigger. That was his cue.

“The two of you are as good as dead. I’m just playing with…” As Moss rattled on, Jack blinked once, twice, and a third time, then kicked his feet out and dropped.

The sound of the shot echoed in the clearing, the trees buffeting it back, and Jack felt Moss pull him backward as he fell, but before the shorter man landed, his arm dropped away and Jack fell forward, catching himself with his hands in the dirt. Something was in his left eye, and he wasn’t sure what it was, but it was warm. “Jack! Oh, god, Jack, are you okay! Where’s the blood coming from? Oh, god, did I shoot you?” Aleta’s frantic voice screamed. Jack could make out movement around the perimeter of the clearing, and at least three FBI agents in full camo came rushing toward them. “Jack!”

“Trooper! Is everybody okay?” one of the agents asked, and Jack saw another kick Moss’s revolver away from his body.

“I think I shot Jack!” Aleta wailed.

“Come on. We’ve got to get you away from the house. The fire department has been notified.” The man helped Jack to his feet, and when Aleta’s arm wrapped around his waist, he knew everything would be okay.

By the time he was sitting on a bale of hay in the barn and one of the agents was tending to his scalp wound, Jack could hear the sounds of sirens piercing the air. “The other agents?”

The agent dabbed at Jack’s scalp. “We’ve got a couple who are deceased, and a few who were disabled. Hit them in the head and knocked them out.”

His heart ached. “How many deceased?”

“At least four, trooper,” the agent responded, his voice level and firm.

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