Web of Deceit by Peggy Slocum Page A

the hedge.
    Beth twists her
head sharply, keeping focus. The men, not giving up, jump out of the truck to
take flight on foot. Ignoring her own safety, Beth throws the Jeep into reverse
and backs down the alley past the fleeing men. She whirls the steering wheel
hard left, sending the Jeep into a skid to the right. It works perfectly and
closes the alley just long enough for Frank and Chip to close in from behind,
with Elliot following at a full run. Beth throws her door open and runs toward
the oncoming men.
    The three men
pause, stunned by the determined five-foot-eight redhead charging them with
only a can of mace in her hand.
     
    *   *   *
     
    A moment is all
Frank needs to stop his car and jam the door open with his shoulder. His body
ignores its physical condition, and, with unexpected speed, he is out of the
seat, and standing. He levels  his Smith and Wesson 357 at the men standing in
awe of Beth who is charging them. “Don’t move!” Frank yells the command at the
men ready to start fleeing again.
    Seconds later two
more gun hammers click into position. Chip and Elliot are walking side by side
with their weapons leveled at the frozen men.
    “Don’t shoot!” The
youngest pleads as he raises his hands.
    “We’ll cooperate!”
The other raises his hands as well.
    Frank yells to the
remaining man. “You—join your pals! Get your hands up!”
    The oldest of the
three men, with graying hair, puts his hands into his pockets. As the police
close in steadily on his position, his eyes perceive Elliot flanking him. He
considers his friends and calculates his remaining options.
    “Now!” Frank yells
louder.
    In a weak voice,
the youngest pleads to his resisting partner. “Raise your hands, man. It ain’t
worth it.”
    “You disgust me,”
the oldest answers. Without hesitation, he pulls a concealed .38 special from
his right pocket.
    “No-o-o!” Beth
screams in shock as her open-and-shut case slips from her grasp.
    With one, quick,
fluid motion, the oldest man brings the gun to bear inches from the youngest
man’s right temple and pulls the trigger.
    Bang!
    The oldest man’s
gun recoils as the bullet exits the young victim’s left frontal lobe.
    Frank squeezes his
trigger and the hammer drops, sealing the older man’s fate.
    Crack!
    Frank’s gun sounds
as the round enters the old man’s chest, shattering a rib and piercing the left
atrium of his heart.
    Machine like, the
man ignores his fatal injury and catches himself from falling by planting his
right foot in the dirt. His only purpose is to end the life of his remaining
partner. His .38 drops no more than six inches as it travels toward his
remaining target.
    Crack!
    Frank fires
another round, striking the upper lobe of his target’s right lung and spinning
him before catching sight of Elliot entering the kill zone.
    Elliot, already at
a dead run before the gun was pulled from the assailant’s pocket, dives forward
to tackle him. Elliot’s collision causes the assailant’s .38 to discharge as he
buckles and collapses to the ground. Elliot rolls off the fallen murderer and
confiscates the .38 special from his weakening grip.
    The fallen man
breathes heavily, choking and trying to get a word out.
    “Nick?” the
surviving accomplice says in shock, waiting for an explanation.
    Nick opens his
mouth, struggling to clear his throat with each gasp of breath. His mouth
overflows with blood as he clears his throat again. “I was being nice.” More
blood gurgles up through his trachea and fills his mouth. Clearing his throat
once more, he manages to say, “You’re already dead.” He hacks a mouth full of
blood up and spits it out. “You’ll wish I did it.” A deep sadness comes over
Nick’s face, and he stops fighting. Frank watches him welcome death by letting
himself drown in his own blood.
    Fear and dismay
overcome the lone survivor as he gapes at the dead bodies of his accomplices.
    “I’ll call it in,”
Chip says over his shoulder, as