Page 118 of Bound in Ashes

“You got all this space,” the sheriff said again.

Jack said nothing else, but then looked at Scotty.

“Got bit on his side?”

“Yeah.”

“He looks sick,” Jack said.

“He does. I figure one of those things bites you, you become one,” the sheriff said.

I didn’t allow myself to think about that too much, but knew what he said was probably true.

“I haven’t seen it myself,” the sheriff continued.

“Is that the kind of thing you want to risk?” Jack asked.

I kept my gaze centered on his back, only seeing the sheriff out of my periphery.

But I couldn’t look at him.

Didn’t want to.

I just wanted him gone.

Wanted Jack calm.

Wanted this to be over.

Good thing I learned a long time ago, you never get what you want.

The sheriff, who was staring down at Scotty, shook his head, and then removed his cowboy hat.

He pressed it against his heart, the way I’d seen him do so many times before.

I remembered Uncle Levi taking me to the local high school football game, seeing Sheriff Hayes in the middle of the field on the fifty-yard line, leading the crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance.

This crowd was much smaller, but the good sheriff never missed a chance to perform.

“You know you’re right.”

The sheriff paused, then looked at two men, who grabbed Scotty and pulled him to his feet.

“No reason to let the boy suffer,” the sheriff said.

And then he plunged the knife that he pulled from his side into Scotty’s chest.

I could swear I saw the boy’s ribs cave in with the pressure.

He didn’t even cry, just grunted softly as blood spilled out of his mouth, irretrievably staining his white T-shirt.

Then he slumped to the ground, dead.

“Want to get his brain just to be sure?” Jack asked.

Sheriff Hayes looked back at him.

“In good time,” the sheriff said.