Page 144 of Not A Whisper

“Then let me do the world a favor.” Garry clicks the safety back.

“Pull the trigger, I dare you,” Trip says, stepping out of the shadows on the far side of the shed. We both look over at him, Garry jerking the gun toward him instinctually. Unease gathers in my chest. Trip’s mouth pulls into a predatory grin. “‘Sup Garry? We didn’t get to chat during the function this evening. Maybe we can catch up now. Hear about the fire at my shop?”

Garry’s scowl is impressive. “What the hell are you doing here, Trip? You know better than most not to get in my way.”

“He’s here for the same reasonI’mhere,” Jason says loudly, stepping into the shed the same way Garry came in. We all look toward him. As Jason moves over the threshold, he lifts his phone. His screen shows that he’s been recording. “To stop you from your destructive rampage.”

Garry swears loudly before he looks at me. The gun swings to me. “You set me up.”

I scoff in disbelief. “Youput all of this in motion. I was happy just eating and drinking tonight as I celebrated their future endeavors.” I nudge my head in Trip and Jason’s direction. “Well, joke’s on you because now we have you for murder, a few of them actually. Then there’s my kidnapping and Lance’s blackmail.” I shiver hard again. God, why haven’t I warmed up yet? “I suggest putting down the gun.”

Jason and Trip move toward Garry, but neither Garry or I take our eyes off one another. Garry’s eyes flash with rage. His face reddens as his hand tightens on the gun.

“I own the police department. Every. Single. Cop,” he emphasizes. “I’m not worried.”

Judging by the clenching of his jaw and the straining tendons in his neck, I’m not sure if I believe that he has all of this under control. His shoulders rise and fall dramatically as he begins to breathe heavily. Is that sweat on his brow? Inthisweather?

“You think they’ll cover this up for you?” Trip asks, chuckling darkly. “For how long? ’Cause you might be able to twist a few arms around here in Groveton, but what about the police in the city over, or the one past that? How about the cops on the other side of Texas? See, I got the same recording but with video, and I got no problem simply uploading it to every platform I can. Eventually it’ll get into the right hands and you’ll be screwed.”

Jason’s grin grows. I can see his teeth flash in the moonlight. “I can’t wait to see you behind bars, Garry.”

Garry doesn't react to their revelations. He simply stares at me.

“It’s over, Garry,” I tell him, hating that the gun hasn’t wavered an inch. Under all of Garry’s bolster, he’s pissed and he’s worried. I don’t need a man in that mindset to be holding a gun at me.

“Then I’ll just kill you all,” he says. “Before you get the chance.”

“Don’t do it, Garry!” Trip yells as Garry grins at me.

Jason reaches for Garry the same time he pulls the trigger.

There’s the bang of a gun. Then another. A bullet wheezes by my face and wood splinters behind my head.

My scream follows me upward, as I practically levitate an inch off the desk. The frozen muscles in my body cramp and protest at the instinctual move. As I land, I scramble back onto the desk, knowing that getting to my feet will only result in me on my knees. I’m much too tired and weak to get up and run.

But I don’t need to.

My attention lands on Garry in time to watch his eyes widen. His body sways. The gun in his hand clatters to the ground. Just beneath his right collarbone, a red stain blossoms. Blood pours from the wound, spilling down his chest and staining the snow that Woody’s blood hadn’t touched. Garry looks down at it then up at me. No, not at me. Garry looksbehindme. I turn to see what he’s looking at. There, stepping through a particularly large hole in the wall, Grant appears. In his hand is a gun.

Had he been planning to use it all along? I hope not. The plan was to get Garry to confess to a handful of crimes, get it all on record, then send them to the proper, uncorrupt authorities.

Thisis notthat.

But I find myself glad he decided to keep that gun he swiped from Woody on him rather than in the car.

Grant comes to a stop beside me. His free hand comes to rest on my shoulder. I look up at him. The hard press of Grant’s mouth, the cold, flat glare he pins on his father, is nearly identical to the expression Garry had given me before he pulled the trigger.

“The lesson I took away from the night you murdered mymother and uncle was that if I want something done, I need to take care of it myself,” Grant tells his father. “I promised the people in here that I will protect what’s mine. Given that they belong to me, in some capacity or another, I’ve made the executive decision to take care of the threat to them myself. Looks like the lesson you taught me came in handy all along.”

Garry grits his teeth. “I have done everything for?—”

Another shot rings out. A second hole blossoms in the middle of Garry’s chest. The moonlight enhances the dark shadows that have gathered in Garry’s expression while also highlighting those faded auburn eyes. There, in their depths, alarm blossoms. It causes them to sparkle, almost like a flare going off, before his eyes go dull. He topples to the side with a last sigh and goes utterly still.

The four of us stare down at Garry. He’s not so intimidating when he’s not glaring at you. Still, there’s something eerie in those vacant eyes that sickens me.

I jerk my gaze away from Garry to look up at his son. Grant stares down at his father, his expression impassive. His shoulders are relaxed, and his breathing appears easy. There’s a lack of color in his face but that could be due to the cold. Strangely, Grant appears completely unfazed.

But I know he has to be feelingsomething. He’s just killed his father.

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