Page 85 of Death Valley

I don’t bother mentioning that I’ve never killed someone before. I feel that wouldn’t help the situation.

Jensen studies me for a long moment, then gives a short nod, a flicker of appreciation in his gaze. “Okay.”

He hands my gun back to me and I think he understands that I’m not giving it back after this after I kill Red.

IfI kill Red. I’m going to pull the trigger.

But does that mean he’ll stay dead?

Red’s blue eyes find mine as I approach, my gun feeling heavy in my hand. For a split second, I think I see recognition there—a flicker of the man he once was, trapped inside the literal monster he’s become. Then, like a candle being snuffed, it’s gone.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, though I know he can’t understand why I have to do this. I don’t know if he understands anything at all.

I look over at the others and meet Jensen’s eyes. His mouth is clenched shut and he gives me a small nod.

Do it.

Everyone covers their ears and I take in a deep breath and ask the universe for forgiveness. I think about my father. I think about my colleagues and the tough choices they’ve faced, the lives they’ve taken. I think about how damn lucky I’ve been that I’ve never been in this situation before.

And if I don’t do something, there’s a chance that luck will run out.

I aim for the center of his forehead and my finger tightens on the trigger. The shot echoes across inside the cabin, causing the horses outside to whinny. Before he can slump, I take another shot at his heart for good measure.

Red’s body goes limp against the ropes, the unnatural light in his eyes finally extinguished. I stare at him for a few moments just to make sure. We all do.

He’s dead.

Cole turns away, shoulders rigid, making the sign of the cross over his chest. Eli murmurs something that might be a prayer. Jensen says nothing, but his hand finds my shoulder, a brief squeeze of understanding before he moves to help the others prepare for our departure.

We gather supplies, checking weapons, preparing what food remains for the journey. The practicalities of our escape occupy the next hour, all of us grateful for tasks that keep our minds from what just happened.

That is, until we have to move Red. We can’t leave him tied up in a backcountry hut that’s frequented by hikers. It could only be a matter of days before someone discovers him and this would be one big crime scene.

So we move Red outside. The morning is clear and cold, sunlight glinting off fresh snow. No sign of Hank or any other hungry ones, though the tracks around the hut tell a disturbing story—multiple sets of footprints circling the building throughout the night, some human-shaped, others distorted, as if the feet making them were no longer entirely human.

Jensen drags Red past the cabin and into the trees, ready to bury him in the snow, since the ground is too frozen to dig a grave. With any luck, predators and carrion will make quick work of him before he’s discovered.

“And if someone finds him?” Jensen questions me with a poignant stare. “With your bullet in his head?”

Fuck me.

Serves me right for being petty and using my own damn gun. They’ll be able to trace them right back to the bureau.

“I’m going to have to dig the bullets out,” I say blankly, my stomach churning. Red’s lifeless eyes stare up at nothing but the thought of having to fucking break open his head to get that bullet out is enough to make me want to puke.

“I’ll do it,” Jensen says.

My heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?” I ask warily. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

He grunts, rubbing his hand over his beard as he stares at the body. “You ain’t asking. I’m just doing. Besides, and no offense, but have you butchered any kind of animal before?”

“I’ve watched autopsies.”

“And you’re welcome to watch this one, but watching is different than doing. Besides, you’re a tough cookie, but getting through a skull takes a lot of brute force.”

I grimace at the thought but step away.

“What do you need?” Eli asks him. “What can help?”

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