Free Heartshot by Steven F. Havill

either, Benny. Like the one under your leg there. But I kinda start wondering what you have in mind. It’s hard to see rabbits in the dark. It’s illegal to jacklight deer. This isn’t good snake country.” I paused and sipped my coffee, keeping my eyes on his hands. “But as long as the weapon isn’t concealed and loaded at the same time, you can walk down Grande Boulevard with it. You might make a few folks nervous, just like you’re making me nervous right now. You’re hunting, Benny, and that makes me nervous. Who?”
    Fernandez reached down and picked up the big Beretta. I wasn’t familiar with the gun, but the hammer was down. Then I saw that the trigger was far forward, and that meant it was double action. I got nervous again. He turned it this way and that in his hands thoughtfully. “You know, Sheriff, for two, maybe three days after Ricky died, I could think of nothing but my own loss. I guess you could say I was feeling sorry for myself. Ricky…I’m sure he felt nothing.” He snapped his fingers. “A fraction of a second, maybe. No more.” He tapped the rim of the steering wheel with the Beretta’s barrel. “But then your people found that bag of cocaine under the seat.” He stopped and shook his head. “For the past few days, I’ve been thinking, Sheriff. That much, it’s worth a lot of money. It’s more than just—what do the kids call it now, a little hit? I mean, somebody is dealing heavy. Maybe not like in L.A. or New York, where they bring it in a ton at a time. I still don’t believe it was my Ricky, but it was in his car…my car. I believe he knew it was there, and ran because of it.”
    “Maybe.”
    “And I tell you this. I know from when I lived in Phoenix. Once the dealers move in, they move in for all they can take. That cocaine you found was not the last of it. Sometime, those bastards will try again.”
    “And you plan to be there with that thing when they do?”
    Fernandez made a funny little noise that sounded like an effort to laugh. “People who deal in kilos aren’t Boy Scouts, Sheriff.” We both turned our heads as Bob Torrez’s car turned into the lake road.
    “Hang on a minute, Benny.” I walked quickly back to my car and fumbled the radio. A minute later, we saw Torrez turn around and head slowly back down the hill. “I think you can appreciate that what you’re doing makes us all a little nervous, Benny,” I said when I returned. “I mean, this is our job, not yours. You’re not trained for it, you’re too involved to think straight. Now let’s suppose a couple cars pulled in down there by the lake and parked door to door. What would you do?”
    Fernandez just stared ahead at the imaginary cars. I continued, “I mean, it’s dark, Benny. Are they just necking? Having a beer? Telling dirty jokes? What? And you’re telling me that you’re going to charge down there with a fifteen-shot semi-automatic pistol at the ready? How are you going to know who they are? Are you going to threaten them and force them all out of their cars and then search them? And if they bring suit against you, you’ll probably lose. And I mean lose more than you can imagine. I don’t know how many civil suits you’ve ever been involved in, but take my word for it, avoid them. And what will you do if they just laugh at you, Benny? Shoot them all? Then you’ve got manslaughter charges against you. And if they’re drug dealers, Benny, what will happen is this. We’ll find what’s left of you lying on the gravel down there the next morning.” I stopped. He was looking down at the gun. “Use your head, Benny. When I came up here, I did it knowing I had backup. I had a light. You don’t even have that. If I hadn’t recognized Yankee Charlie Xray one-three-six, I would have called in the plate and had a bunch of information before I stepped out of the car.” Spouting out his license plate like that made a dent. He looked up at me, a little sorrowfully. “And, Benny, I’ve