Bombshell

“So, what happened next? I’m trying to figure out where she is.”

“They left, and I just lay there on the floor, still feeling pretty out of it. I kept my eye on the sheriff, who managed to get up. I didn’t move and he walked outside, and then about two seconds later I heard the gunshots.”

“Oh my God, you’re saying he used his gun. What if he shot Jana? That would explain why she never came home.” Holly’s eyes filled with tears.

“Don’t jump to conclusions. If she was dead, somebody would know. Maybe the sheriff missed and she just ran off with that guy. I’m pretty sure he was drunk, so it’s a good bet his aim was off.”

Holly paced the room.

“How many?”

“How many what?”

“How many gunshots?”

“I don’t know, MacGyver. Four, maybe six?”

“Then what?” Holly pressed.

Jimmy thought a moment, eyes looking up and off to one side. “Let’s see. Okay. I remember. When I heard the gunshots, I freaked. Thinking I better go out the back somewhere and hide. I forced myself to get up, but then slipped on a puddle of beer. Then I heard a few more shots and a car’s tire squealing, then I heard the sheriff or someone coming back up the steps – so I played dead – even though I had to keep my face lying in beer on that filthy floor. It was horrible.”

“So, who came back in, was it the sheriff?”

“Yep, it was. He came in, cursing up a mean streak. He went straight for this big jar of money they had for the winner of the show, and then he left, with the money.”

“Wow,” Holly said.

“I know. Some role model, eh?”

“How did you get to the diner? You said your car was totaled.”

“Well, I don’t know about totaled, but the door was smashed, and I couldn’t open it.”

“So, how did you get to the diner?”

“Sam gave me a ride.”

“The owner of the bar, Sam?”

“Yeah. He came back about ten minutes after the sheriff had left. He turned on the lights and sort of walked around a while, shocked at the damage. I tried to tell him that what I saw. I tried to get him to call 9-1-1,

but he refused. He made me promise not to say anything about it, before he gave me a ride. I crossed my fingers behind my back, so I could at least tell you. You know how I hate keeping secrets.”

“Is that everything?”

“Yep, everything I can think of.”

“Well, get dressed. I’ll take you back to the bar and we can see how bad your car is. I’d like to talk to this Sam guy, myself.”

Chapter Eight

Pete and his wife Marge nervously walked into the Double XX Bar and Grill a few hours later after their upsetting visit from Sheriff Buck. On the drive into town they talked about asking the others for help. But that wasn’t the primary reason they were headed to town. The SSB, or Stop Sheriff Buck support group was having an emergency meeting. This secret group made up of entirely of vendors and business owners subjected to the sheriff’s extortion had been meeting more frequently in recent months as the sheriff and his deputy bat-boy Fletcher had been upping the ante and ratcheting up their demands.

After the sheriff and his slime deputy had left, Pete and Marge had first called all five of their daughters and told them to pack up the kids and leave town for a few days. None of them were willing to leave until their husbands got home from work, which meant Pete and Marge needed to find some way to raise the funds before two o’clock.

Marge, a gentle woman with a friendly face, was looking anything but friendly when she stormed into the bar. She’d been ranting for the whole drive into town about how wrong it was the way everyone just let him get away with murder.

Sam greeted them with a grim face as he put down an armful of debris. Several other members of the group stopped cleaning for a moment and came over to shake Pete’s hand and give Marge a hug.