He squeezed the trigger. A slight jolt, then a faint pop accompanied the round leaving the barrel. An instant later Zimmerman’s skull shattered in an explosion of blood and brains.
The body dropped to the ground.
He lowered the rifle.
Damn, he was a good shot.
7:15A.M.
BRENT FELT A LITTLE STRANGE WITH THE TOPIC OF CONVERSATION.
“Did you spend the night?” Hank asked.
“No. But it was late when I got home.”
They filled a booth at Billy’s having breakfast. The diner was a downtown Concord landmark, a monument to glass, linoleum, and grease. Brent was working on the Split Rise Special—two eggs over easy, grits, toast, and coffee—and Hank wanted to know all about his Saturday night with Ashley.
“Aren’t you supposed to be after me with a shotgun or something, defending the honor of your daughter?”
“Little late for that, isn’t it?”
He chuckled. “You could say that.”
“What did your mother say when you got in?”
“She was asleep. But she wouldn’t have said anything.”
“You need to talk to her,” Hank said. “She might could help.”
He’d ignored that advice once before, years ago, but couldn’tresist saying, “I remember somebody else here who wouldn’t listen to anyone either.”
Hank seemed to instantly know what he meant. “You were right. I should have handled things with Loretta different. I screwed up. I admit it. And lost a wife along the way. But don’t you make the same mistake.”
He knew all about the regret Hank harbored, allowing selfishness to ruin his marriage. The only thing that eventually grabbed his friend’s attention was when his wife told him she’d fallen in love with another man and was leaving. No anger. No hard feelings. No nothing. Just over. He recalled Hank coming to him dazed. Reality had hit home like the blare of an air raid siren. A week later he drew up the divorce papers that quietly ended their long marriage.
Hank was wrong about one thing, though. He really couldn’t talk to his mother about any of this, not with what she was about to endure. The prognosis was not good. The doctors had said her mind would gradually slip away. It could take a few years, and medication could help, but there was little that could be done to stop it. He hadn’t said a thing to anyone on the subject and debated telling Hank, but decided against it. So he simply said, “Mom doesn’t need to be involved in this.”
“You might be surprised. Give her a chance.”
He wondered about the full court press. Hank rarely did anything without a thought-through purpose.
“I should have kept my ass in Atlanta,” he said. “I knew this would happen with Ashley. It’s really hard for me to shake things.”
“You didn’t kill Paula. She killed herself.”
“I never should have said what I did.”
“But it was the truth.”
“It should have been said years before.”
Actually it had been, in a variety of ways, but Paula never listened to what she did not want to hear. Only on that last day had her ears opened.
“May God forgive me, Hank, but a part of me was relieved whenshe died. Ending it with her would have been hell. She would have made sure of that. I still hate myself for feeling that way.”
“Time to get real, Brent. Isn’t that what you told me once? Paula was selfish. You two were always oil and water. That marriage was based on one thing, and you know it.”
That it was.
