Claiming the Enemy: Dustin (Porter Brothers Trilogy 3)

“I plan to get a lot more satisfaction from you than that. You owe Miranda and Jessie more than that. A woman lost her life. Her son lost his mother, and Jackson lost the woman he loved. Another woman lost her trust and sense of well-being that her family had instilled in her for your own demented reason. I can beat it into you until your dead, but it’s never going to give them the satisfaction they deserve.” Dustin reached behind him, taking the gun out to point it at him.

“Go ahead and kill me. I want you to.”

Dustin was disgusted when Dixon started praying.

Raising the gun above his head, Dustin fired off a shot.

Dixon jumped, lifting his eyes to his.

“The only thing on God’s green earth that is going to give them any satisfaction isn’t something I can give them. Only Knox can do that. Miranda might not be able to see you face the justice you deserve, but the others will.”

As his words trailed off, the crunch of the gravel under tires could be heard as police cars drove up the driveway.

Dustin kept his gun at his side as Knox got out of his squad car and the state police officers ran toward Dixon.

Dustin held out his gun to Knox, giving it to him.

“It’s a good thing I sent Greer to Jamestown to keep him from knowing what you were doing. He would have shot him about five minutes into Dixon confessing. Tate’s spitting mad that you didn’t tell him what you were up to. Two of the troopers are keeping him at his house.”

“I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t trust myself. Even after I called Shade an hour before Dixon arrived, I didn’t know if I’d go through with the plan I told Shade.”

“You can turn your phone off. The police will keep recording until you do.”

Dustin took his phone out, disconnecting the call he had made to Knox, which he had linked to the state police.

“You were going to kill him,” Knox stated when saw him put his phone in his jacket.

“Yes.” Dustin watched as Dixon was handcuffed and put in the back of a squad car.

“Why’d you change your mind?”

“Jessie. I could have killed him and hid his body in the mountains, but she’d still wonder who it was, and I wasn’t going to have her live the rest of her life that way.”

“You’re a better man than me.” Knox nodded to him. “Now, I need you to come to the station and make a signed statement. You know the whole Hayes clan is going to be gunning for you, don’t you? Want me to see if I can get you in the witness protection program? You could get a name change, and I could set you up in a place like Tahiti. I’ve been there. It’s beautiful and, better yet, there aren’t any Hayeses.”

“No thanks.”

“Why not?”

“Number one, my mountain is the most beautiful place on earth. Don’t need a long plane ride to figure that out. Number two, Tahiti might not have any Hayeses, but it doesn’t have any Porters either. And number three, Jessie gets sunburned too easily. I’d never talk her into it.”

Knox laughed, shaking his head. “Come on, at least I can protect you for a couple of hours while you make your statement.”

They walked past the state trooper car that had Dixon Wells in the back seat. Dustin could see he was banging his head on the metal cage that protected the trooper in front.

“I’m going to have them put him on a suicide watch,” Knox said, giving the man a look of utter loathing. “He’s already working that insanity defense.”

Dustin couldn’t bear to watch the way Dixon was acting, but for a different reason. “That shithole isn’t acting. He’s as crazy as a suicidal squirrel.”

“What in the fuck is that?”

“You don’t know what the hell a suicidal squirrel is?” Dustin stopped walking to stare at Knox in pity.

“No.”

“See the electric pole there?” Dustin pointed to the pole behind the barn that led the electric cables to the house.

“Yes.”

“The next time Tate and I have a crop that isn’t worth selling, I’ll tell Tate to invite you over. We have a big fire to destroy it. The little fuckers go crazy, running all over the place. That’s why we have a back-up generator, because when they run up the pole, we lose power every time. Greer buys a case of Bud and sits on the front porch, watching them commit—”

“Suicide,” Knox finished for him. The sheriff laughed so hard he had to wipe his tears away. “Do me a favor. The next time you want to burn weed that isn’t up to your standards, call me.”

“You want to come and watch?”

“No, my brothers and I will take it off your hands. We’re not as particular as you. The worst weed the Porters could produce is still better than the rest being sold in Kentucky. I’ll even pay full price for it.”