Page 68 of Killer on the Homestead
She managed a huff of a laugh. “Hate to break it to you, but that bad arm’s going to let you down there.”
“Well, I’ll just get another surgery. Come on.”
She couldn’t even seem to move her head to look at him, but she could see Terry. In front of her. Still moving. In fact…
She pawed at Duncan’s arm. “Duncan, he’s getting up.”
Duncan shoved her behind him, and she wanted to shove him right back, but it was taking everything in her to stand on her own two feet.
Terry got to his knees. He was gripping his shoulder where blood was pouring out of the gunshot wound. He was white as a sheet, but he was getting up, and he still had a gun gripped in his hand. Luckily, the wound in his arm should keep him from getting a decent shot off, but still.
“Give me the gun,” Rosalie ordered Duncan.
“Rosalie.”
“I’ve got it, Ace. Give me the gun and hold me up. I’m a damn better shot.”
“I should hope so. I haven’t held a gun for over fifteen years,” he muttered. “But you’re covered in blood.”
She didn’t mention her vision wasn’t all there, no more than her strength. “What are you going to do then?”
Duncan stood in front of her—a human shield she didn’t want. Terry clearly was trying to raise the gun in his hand, but he couldn’t because of the gunshot wound in his shoulder. Meanwhile, Duncan held his—her—gun pointed at Terry.
“Drop the gun, Terry. Just drop it.”
“You couldn’t shoot the broadside of a barn,” Terry growled, but it was clear he couldn’t aim his gun either.
“I don’t know what happened, but you’re not walking away from this. You’re not hurting any more people. It’s over.”
“It’s not over. It’ll never be over.” Terry’s voice hitched. Despair and panic and something else Rosalie couldn’t quite name. Maybe a mental break.
“I’m the victim here,” he shouted, stumbling forward a little. He was sweating now, either from the pain, or the attempt to lift his arm.
“Victim? You’re a murderer. You betrayed…everything my father did for you.”
“Didforme? Hestoleeverything from me.” Terry stepped forward, eyes wild, shirt getting darker and darker as blood seeped out of his wound. “Norman Kirk always got everything.His parents bought my parents’ ranch and I was left with nothing but a measly ranch-hand job. He married Natalie. Natalie wasmine. I saw her first. She was always supposed to be mine.”
“Holy hell,” Rosalie muttered. This was deeper and more twisted than she could have imagined.
“I waited. I planned. I’ll get mine now. I put in the work. I put in the damn work. It’s all mine now. No matter what I have to do to get it.”
“The police know Terry. About the land in Idaho. The stockpile. And I have a sneaking suspicion once they get the search warrant they’re after, they’ll find my father’s missing cows.”
Terry’s entire face arrested in a kind of shocked horror that chilled Rosalie to the bone. She tried to reach out to take the gun from Duncan. If he wouldn’t take Terry down, she would. Impaired vision and all.
“That’ll be enough,” a commanding voice interrupted. All eyes turned to Copeland stepping through the trees, gun drawn. There were a few other cops stepping into the shaded area as well, around Terry to make a circle. Detective Delaney-Carson. Sunrise’s sheriff, Jack Hudson, and another Sunrise deputy.
“Drop it,” Copeland instructed Terry. “Now.”
Rosalie didn’t know if she was the only one who saw it—the wild desperation. The choice in Terry’s eyes. Give up or go down swinging. She didn’t wait to see if anyone else would recognize it. She just kicked out, so both she and Duncan fell in a heap on the ground.
Just as Terry swung his bad arm up, aimed and shot.
Aside from the pain in her head, she seemed to be okay, and Duncan had only grunted a little as he’d landed on his bad shoulder, she figured in an attempt to keep his full weight from falling on her.
Duncan looked up, so Rosalie did too. She saw the point where the wood had splintered from the bullet—where they likely both would have been hit dead-on if she hadn’t pulled him down. Then he looked down at her.
“Well, I guess we’re even, Red,” he said, and he didn’t shake, but his voice was raspy.
