Lieutenant Trufant by Jeff Shaw

Author:Jeff Shaw [Shaw, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781665303163
Publisher: Lanier Press, an Imprint of BookLogix
Published: 2022-03-08T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

RAMZI

Have I failed again?

This is all wrong—this is not how it was supposed to end!

He looked down at the cop. The man was clearly dying. Blood poured from his white dress shirt and flowed downhill toward Armstrong. Armstrong was down too, but his eyes were open, and he was cradling the dog in his left arm, the dog still snarling and trying to pull free from the man’s grasp. Blood had soaked the man’s old jacket, and he could see the broken edge of the Balisong’s blade protruding through its fabric. Hopefully, he had severed an artery. If so, it could be a fatal wound.

His good knife was nowhere in sight, and he looked at the broken blade of the knife still in his hand. He could use it to finish Armstrong, but people were already coming out of the shops having heard the gunfire. Some stood in the doorways staring at him while others held their phones up recording him. A moment ago, he could have killed them all without effort, like sheep.

But the damned dog! It was a threat now. It had pulled free from Armstrong’s grasp and stood in front of him, its bared teeth and that snarling terrified him.

Leave, or die here, or worse, be captured and face Trufant?

He turned and walked toward his car and was halfway across the street when a .40 caliber bullet tore a chunk of flesh from his thigh. Another shot echoed off the building in front of him, and he slipped and fell face-first on the asphalt, cracking one of his front teeth.

He spit out a piece of the tooth, tasting blood. Intense pain was now coursing through his arm and leg. He pushed himself up and saw his index finger was missing. Instead, it was right in front of him, and he stepped on it, not realizing what it was at first.

He glanced back and saw Armstrong with the cop’s gun in his hand.

Running was not an option, so he limped the final twenty yards to his Honda, expecting to hear another shot, but it never happened.

His keys were in his left pocket, and that arm was ruined. He threw the broken knife into the gutter next to the car and dug the keys out with his right hand.

It was the damn dog!

He had been so consumed with killing Armstrong that he had never seen the animal.

I should have killed it!

It might still die. He had felt his knife go deep across the dog’s skull.

He eased the silver Honda out into traffic and looked back at the pet shop. A crowd had already gathered outside around Armstrong and Amato. Some were kneeling to help while others were pointing at him as he drove away.

They will be looking for this car soon.

He had leased the Civic knowing it was a popular car and would be one of thousands of similar vehicles roaming the streets of San Francisco. Like camouflage, he hoped the car would blend in unnoticed as he drove to his apartment.

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