Page 39 of Final Ride

“Two men broke into McNeil’s Outfitters in Cut Bank and stole guns. They killed the owner.”

“Aw, shit,” said Billy. “I’ve known Charlie McNeil for years. He’s a friend of my dad’s.”

“Sorry, Billy,” said Molly. “You boys better get over there and give the staff in the store some help. Pauline is the name of the girl in the office who called it in.”

“Pauline,” said Billy. “Got it.”

River Medical Center. Gananoque. Ontario.

Willy’s legs were so badly chewed up and mangled, he had to stop driving because of the pain. Spotting a medical center was a stroke of luck. He pulled into the parking lot and slept there, waiting for them to open.

One of the nurses arrived early and she found Willy unconscious in his truck. Two dogs barking at her—one in the front seat and one in the back—put her a little on edge. Theirtails wagged and they didn’t seem vicious, so she eased the door of the truck open and saw the blood soaked through both legs of the man’s pants.

She went inside the clinic and got one of the night cleaners to help her with Willy. Between the two of them, they got him inside to an examination room.

By the time the first doctor came on duty, the diligent nurse had removed Willy’s torn and blood-soaked pants and cleaned up both of his legs to get a better look at the damage.

The doctor examined the wounds, decided the damage was far beyond his capabilities and called an ambulance. He sent Willy to the Health Sciences Center in nearby Kingston.

When the night cleaners left for home, one of the ladies took the two dogs and their food from Willy’s truck. She couldn’t bear to leave them in the parking lot or have Animal Control come and pick them up.

McNeil’s Outfitters. Cut Bank. Montana.

Travis and the boys arrived at the scene of the crime in Cut Bank, and it wasn’t a pretty sight.

Rows of showcases had been smashed and the floor of the huge outfitters store was littered with shards of glass.

The victim, Charlie McNeil, lay dead behind the front counter in a pool of his own blood. The cash drawer was open and empty, and the number of guns taken was anybody’s guess. There were many vacant spots in the cabinet.

Doctor Olsen, the Harrison County Coroner, was close by for this homicide. The morgue and his clinic were at the other end of the street.

Cause of death was easy enough to ascertain. Charlie had been shot in the chest by a shotgun—one of his own—at close range.

“We have a witness in the office, boss,” said Ted. “The lady who called it in was in the office the entire time. She stayed out of sight and stayed alive.”

“Fantastic. She’ll be able to help us out a lot.” Travis waved Billy towards the office and pointed at Virge, “Get in there and record the witness’s statement. Take notes as well and don’t miss anything.”

“Copy that, Sheriff.”

I followed Virge into the office and the witness was a woman from Cut Bank, Pauline Welsh. She’d worked at the store for five years.

Billy talked quietly to her for a few minutes to calm her down so she could think more clearly. A lot of witnesses had trauma-brain after a life-changing experience and their account of what had happened right in front of them wasn’t always accurate.

“Harlan, find the lunchroom and make coffee,” said Billy. “I’m sure Miss Welsh could use a cup.”

“Copy that.”

When the coffee was ready, I brought her a cup and she had stopped crying long enough to give us her statement.

“There were two of them. Big guys wearing those scary ski masks. They yelled at Charlie and told him to open the gun cases—the ones where we keep the rifles and the shotguns. We don’t sell any tactical weapons.”

“Did Charlie open the cases for them?”

“No. He figured they wanted the guns for something crime-related and he refused to do it and that’s when one of the robbers started smashing the glass.”

“What did he use to smash the cases?” asked Billy.

“Umm…I didn’t notice what he had in his hand. Sorry.”

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