It was an eerie place no longer meant for the living.
He stared at that tendril of smoke still rising from the far end of town. From this vantage point, he could tell it was coming from another cluster of buildings behind the main street.
He took one last look, then ran across the street and got up close to the buildings on that side and moved toward the smoke, shotgun at the ready.
Closing in on the end of the empty street, he checked his position against the smoke and ducked between the next-to-last and last building and walked slowly out the alley, heart hammering with anticipation.
This was it. His chance to set things right.
The smoke was coming from just beyond this alley. In mere seconds, he would have them in his sights.
Then, mere seconds later, he would avenge Cole.
Reaching the end of the alley, he stepped into the open, ready to kill.
There they were, sitting around the campfire, as he had expected.
But not completely as expected.
Because there were only two of them: a skinny man in a yellow rain slicker and another man with a tiny hat and a reddish beard, who stared into the flames with an open mouth, looking drunk or dumb or both.
Conn put the scattergun on them but felt a stab of unease.
Where was Toole?
“Well, well, well,” the voice behind him said, and he felt the muzzle of a gun poke him in the back. It pressed directly into his spine, six inches above the pelvis. “Today must be my lucky day. I got up to take a leak, and look who I found trying to sneak up on me?”
50
“Toole,” Conn growled.
“That’s right,” Toole chuckled, “and you know what this is, poking you in the back?”
“Yeah, I know what it is,” Conn said bitterly, angry at himself for letting Toole get the drop on him.
But even as the flames of anger leapt higher, he tamped them down. In this moment, anger was a luxury he could not afford.
He had to keep his head now. His life counted on it.
Toole had him dead to rights. His only hope now was for Toole to make a mistake. Conn had to be ready for that moment in case it came.
The other men jumped with surprise. The one in the yellow slicker said, “Where did he come from?”
“This alley right here,” Toole said. “He was fixing to blow you two away. But I got him.”
The men got up and came over.
“Nice and slow now, crouch down and put that scattergun on the ground,” Toole ordered.
Conn did as he was told.
Now, the three murderers were laughing.
“I thought it was something, killing a pair of twins,” Toole chuckled. “This is like killing three twins.”
The dumb one chortled. He had a weird laugh, kind of muffled and wheezing.
Watching this one’s eyes, Conn had a feeling the guy didn’t even know why he was laughing.
