Dead Shot Read online

  DEAD SHOT: A Diane Pembrook Novel

  Copyright © 2018 by Ethan Johnson.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  http://officialethanjohnson.com

  Book and Cover design by Ethan Johnson

  Cover photo: Yudin Dmitry

  CHAPTER 1

  Diana Fellner stood over her suitcase, clutching a worn teddy bear. It was ragged from years of affection and missing an eye. She wiped a tear with the knuckle of her index finger as her father called to her from the kitchen. She couldn’t show weakness in front of him, especially not now. She chastised herself inwardly not for the choice she made, but for thinking there was a choice at all. Two plastic jugs of water were stuffed into the last available space in her luggage, leaving no room for the teddy. It was time to say goodbye.

  “I said, getcher ass in gear, ‘less you wanna stay behind. I ain’t coming back to visit.”

  “Coming, Daddy.” She tossed the teddy bear aside. She slammed the suitcase shut and zipped the sides closed. She rolled it behind her sullenly and found her father in the front room, unplugging the television.

  “No sense burnin’ it down. This place has been good to us.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Diana pouted inwardly but tried to pass it off as running down her mental packing list once more.

  Her father rose from the frayed carpet and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Got everything? It’s now or never, baby.”

  Diana put on a brave face and nodded. “Yes, Daddy, got it all right here.”

  His voice turned to steel. “Got the Good Book?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He patted her on the head, mussing her hair. “That’s my girl. If’n you got the Good Book, you got everything, I reckon.” He switched off the wall thermostat and patted her on the shoulder. “If you need to take a squirt, now’s the time. I can’t rightly say how long it’ll be ‘til we get to facilities.”

  “Yes, Daddy.” Diana let go of her suitcase and let it wobble as it stood upright. She closed the hollow core door and switched on the fan. She sat on the toilet and looked around the modest bathroom. For five years, this place was home. She hadn’t given the room much thought, other than to use it for its intended purpose, and now she felt tears well up at the thought that she’d never see it again. The pink and avocado color scheme was far from fashionable, and the shower head leaked from the base, but now her hands and cheeks recalled the memory of the stray droplets as she’d squint into the spray as she rinsed cheap shampoo out of her hair.

  She wiped away another tear, then flushed. Another in a string of lasts. Last shower, last time she’d hold her teddy bear, the last flush.

  “Breakers are going, baby,” called her father, his heavy footsteps fading off toward the back of the house.

  That will be the last time he flicks any of the breakers on the panel, she thought. She washed her hands one last time, and numbly caressed her palms with a thin sliver of soap. She looked down at the frog soap dish that she bought at the dollar store with a bit of money, and remembered her father complaining for weeks that the dollar twenty-eight could have bought all sorts of provisions. She put a stop to it by screaming, “It’s my money, and it makes me happy, okay?”

  He stopped complaining out loud after that, but she knew he was thinking it, every time they finished a can of tuna or a box of stale crackers.

  She took a deep breath, and pulled the door open, just as the breakers clicked off. She blew a puff of air, thankful that she was out of the bathroom before the power went out. Dark, enclosed spaces weren’t her favorite.

  Her father entered the house from the side entrance and clapped his hands. “Time’s up, baby. Getcher stuff, and let’s scoot.”

  Diana grabbed the handle to her suitcase and dragged it toward the side entrance. Her father gestured for her to use the front door. She didn’t see why it made a difference, as they’d end up in the front yard just the same. She reached for the door, and her father reached up over the fireplace mantel. He carefully removed a bolt-action rifle from its place of honor and rubbed the stock with his shirt sleeve.

  Diana paused to speak, and he motioned for her to keep moving. She negotiated the rickety front steps of their modest three-bedroom home and squinted into the morning sun. Leaves rustled on the lawn, and a tire swing swayed back and forth lazily as she hoisted her suitcase off the grass with two hands, then set it down with a thud beside her father’s pickup truck. Her father followed behind her and heaved his suitcase into the cargo bed. He reached down, and tossed hers unceremoniously beside it, then picked up the rifle.

  Diana grabbed the door handle to the passenger side of the pickup and was surprised to find it locked. “We going, Daddy?”

  “In a few. Gotta clear the way first.”

  Diana put her hand to her forehead, trying to get a clear view of the vacant county road. She didn’t see what needed clearing, and why her father was heaving a hay bale to make a rudimentary barrier. He waved her over and slumped onto the grass with his back to the hay bales. She knelt gingerly beside him, then dropped to a sit, emulating her father.

  He pulled the bolt back and fished something out of his shirt pocket. He held up a gleaming cartridge to the sunlight and held it close to her lips. “Kiss it for luck, sweetie pie.” Diana puckered up, and gave the dull metal tip a kiss, looking up at her father for his approval. He pulled it away from her and loaded it into the rifle. He slid the bolt shut and raised the rifle to his eye. “That’s fine. That’s mighty fine, right there.”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He trained the barrel on imagined targets, then lowered the rifle, admiring it for a moment, then he shifted to a full kneel, resting the rifle barrel on a hay bale. He squinted into the distance, and Diana rose to watch. He looked down and smiled. “You’re liable to get a haircut. Stay low.”

  She lowered her head and looked up at her father. “I want to see, Daddy.”

  He stared ahead impassively for a moment, then chuckled. “Sure, why not. S’good to learn something from your old man, ‘specially now that you’re old enough to know better.”

  Diana peered over the hay bale and strained to detect anything in the road that would be of any interest or pose any threat. She figured they could be miles away already, instead of waiting for… something.

  She shifted uncomfortably on her knees as the dewy grass soaked through her jeans, and weighed the risk of questioning her father’s strategy, but thought better of it, knowing that he was pleasant enough when things were going his way, but woe to anyone who crossed him. Besides, she reasoned, he had the gun. She’d have to wait until he was good and ready to start driving.

  Her pulse quickened at the sight of a dust cloud in the distance. A single vehicle was coming over the hill. Her father picked up the rifle but didn’t take aim. He turned to her and made a shushing gesture, and she nodded, resisting the urge to protest that she hadn’t said anything, or made any noise.

  The car was tan, with a bar of gumball lights at the top. She wasn’t quite sure, but she thought the driver was Deputy Simmons. The car sped along, growing larger against a backdrop of asphalt and cornfields. Diana saw the deputy’s signature white hat, and she swallowed hard at the thought of what her father intended to do next, or conversely, what Dep
uty Simmons wanted with her father. He’d left them be for this long, she thought, so why start something now?

  Her father adjusted his grip on the rifle and muttered under his breath as he lined up a shot. Diana gasped. Did he mean to kill Deputy Simmons? He’d never shot anyone before, that she knew of. Why now? Why him? Her thighs quivered as she prayed to herself that Deputy Simmons would be okay, and Daddy spied something else, and she was jumping to conclusions. The Deputy was a good man too, just like her father. God wouldn’t let anyone die that didn’t deserve it, she affirmed to herself.

  Her father pulled the trigger. Glass shattered in the distance, and the car careened from side to side, before slamming full on into a telephone pole. Steam rose from the crushed hood, and the drone of a car horn sounded. Her father leapt to his feet and pulled Diana up after him. “Time to git.”

  They hurried to the pickup, and Diana glanced once more over her shoulder. The telephone pole was bent toward the steaming wreckage, and she didn’t see any other movement. Her father barked an order to her, snapping her to attention. She pulled the pickup door open and climbed into the cab. Her father slammed his door, and she followed suit. After firing up the engine with some choice swearing, her father put the truck into gear and drove away from their home, which stood silently against a backdrop of clear blue sky.

  Diana slumped in her seat to catch one last glimpse of it before it disappeared behind rows of corn.

  CHAPTER 2

  Diana’s father pressed down on the accelerator and coolly surveyed the road ahead. Diana crossed her arms tightly across her chest and stared blankly ahead. The road was empty… or appeared so. Locals knew about the speed trap behind the apple orchard billboard. She expected her father to slow down as he approached it, but he instead accelerated, causing her to tense up even more. She pressed down on an imaginary brake, and her father snorted when he caught sight of her.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna be there. Not now. Loosen up.”

  Diana did not avert her gaze. “How do you know?”

  “There’s an officer down, baby. They ain’t care about speeding when one of their own’s been shot.”

  Diana turned her head and glared at her father. “He was a good man, Daddy. He didn’t deserve to die.”

  Her father gave her a hard stare in return, then looked up at the road. He chewed his bottom lip pensively, then gave another snort. “Ain’t for you to say. Let God sort it out. For all you know, God sent him to die, so we’d have a clear shot out of town.”

  Diana squinted up at him suspiciously. “Why couldn’t we just leave town anyway? Why did you have to kill a man? We coulda been miles away before he ever came along.”

  Her father adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and chewed his lip again. Diana watched the mile markers count slowly upward by tenths, waiting for an explanation. Her father didn’t appreciate being challenged, but he hadn’t killed a man before. She felt the support of the moral high ground beneath her, and it was from this perch that she stood in judgment. Her father was now a cold-blooded killer—barring any evidence to the contrary—and he wasn’t offering much in the way of a solid defense.

  She saw his features harden, and his breathing became more pronounced as they rode along in silence. Without warning, he pulled the truck over onto a gravel shoulder and slammed it into Park. His nostrils flared as he turned to her sharply. “I did what I had to do to keep you safe. You ain’t hafta thank me for it, but I won’t have my daughter turning on me. Respect my decision. It was my decision, not yours.” He held his palms up. “If’n I got blood on my hands, I’ll live with it. I shot a deputy, sure enough. But I will not allow your blood to spill because of me.”

  Diana pressed against her seat, terrified of her father. Her eyes were as wide as they could go, and her jaw slackened. She felt shallow breaths pass over her tongue, and her hands balled into fists so tight that her nails were cutting into her palms.

  Her father’s features softened, and he tipped his head. He reached out to pull her close to him, and she felt his tight embrace as she remained stiff as a board. She felt his chest heave, and his voice trembled. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re all I’ve got now. I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever.”

  Tears fell from her eyes involuntarily. Any other day, she would have been sure it was love. Today, she felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Their home was gone, and so was her faith in her father as a good and honorable man. She lifted her left hand and patted his back. “I love you, Daddy,” she said in a monotone.

  “Oh, I love you too, sugar plum. Things are gonna get better, you’ll see.” He squeezed her tight once more, then let go. She wiped tears away with her knuckles and screwed her face up. Her father looked over at her and snorted. “Get that weakness outta you, baby. We don’t need none of that where we’re headed.”

  Diana nodded and cried softly with her head turned away. Her father put the truck into gear and sent a spray of gravel flying as he pulled back onto the road.

  After what felt like hours watching one farm blend into another as the mile markers continued their ascent, Diana turned to her father. “Where are we headed, Daddy?”

  “I found a place for us about a day’s drive from here. You’ll like it. It backs up to a lake.”

  Their previous abode backed up to farmland, and none of it was theirs. She felt a thrill at the news, then tempered her enthusiasm. She decided to probe for more information before getting too excited. “A lake? With fishes?”

  Her father chuckled and grinned. “Biggest fishes you ever seen in your life.”

  “With boats?”

  “Sure enough, baby. A beautiful boat, just for the two of us. We can take it out anytime we want. You wanna look at fishes from that boat?”

  Diana’s heart soared at the thought. “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Well, okay then.” He pressed down on the accelerator and let out a whoop. Diana sat back and daydreamed about fish swimming alongside a gleaming yacht. The vision dissipated as doubts crept in and spoiled her fantasy.

  “Why that place, Daddy? What was wrong with what we had?”

  He chewed his lip again, then let out a slow breath. “We needed a quieter place.”

  Diana cocked her head. The modest house backed up to a corporate farm, and other than the occasional combine, she didn’t recall the place being particularly noisy. Their nearest neighbor was a mile away, by her estimation, and she barely saw them as it was. “Quieter? How come?”

  Her father did not answer for a long time. Finally, he took a deep breath, and said, “I’ve got to teach you how to shoot.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Diana’s jaw dropped. “Shoot? Daddy, you know I can shoot just fine.”

  “Oh, you’re an ace with a BB gun, no doubt. But it’s time to teach you to fire live rounds. Maybe you’ll be almost as good as your old man.” He grinned.

  Diana crossed her arms defensively. “I can knock ten cans down with just two shots.” Her father chuckled, and she felt her ears redden. “What’s so funny about that?”

  “That’s one shot too many, baby. Your old man’s gonna show you how the Fellners do it.”

  “I almost got ‘em all with one, but that bottom row, it doesn’t want to fall.”

  “Nothing wants to fall. And you can’t be thinking about cans no more. I’m talking about men. Bad men, baby. Taking ‘em down before they ever see it coming.”

  Diana pressed her knees together and tugged at her shirt. “Bad men want to get me?”

  Her father gave her an embarrassed sidelong glance. “Well, I reckon they do, but that’s not the point, here. The point is, you got to learn to shoot, and I mean to teach you.”

  Diana stroked her chin and contemplated killing a man who aimed to harm her first. She remembered seeing magazines wedged between her father’s mattresses, and once, she dared to sneak a peek at one of them. The women seemed to like what the men were doing to them, and the men seemed happy doing it. Maybe he meant something else. Someth
ing sinister. She folded her arms tightly once more and hoped her father’s fears were nothing to worry about.

  “We can shoot at the new place? Won’t people come running when they hear gunshots?”

  “Not nobody that knows to mind their business and stay clear of live fire.”

  “Are the bad men gonna mind their business, Daddy?”

  He smiled. “They’d best, baby, or we can use them for target practice.”

  Diana smiled back. “Suits me fine.”

  “Damn straight, it does. You’re a Fellner.”

  “We Fellners gotta eat lunch, I figure. Can we stop somewhere?”

  Her father shook his head. “Not right now. I got some peanuts in here. That’ll have to hold you for at least two more hours.” He pointed at the glove box.

  She leaned forward and pulled a small packet of peanuts out of the glove box. Her stomach protested the paltry offering. She tore the package open, and as she was about to pour some into her hand, her father put his hand out. She frowned and shook the bag, giving him the bare minimum. He wiggled his fingers, and she poured half of the bag out. Her stomach rumbled as the promise of two handfuls of peanuts dwindled down to one. Her father cupped his hand to his mouth and chewed the peanuts with his mouth open.

  Diana shrugged and poured the bag into her hand. As she bit down on a tiny serving she plucked with her thumb and two fingers, she reminded herself that something was better than nothing. She’d have to find a way to pass the time without thinking about food.

  Her father stuck his palm out again. “Hit me.”

  Diana didn’t wear a watch, and the truck didn’t have a working radio, depriving her of another method of checking, but she was sure two hours had passed by now. Her stomach felt like it was being hollowed out from the inside, and the mile markers had increased by well over 100 since her father’s estimated lunch time was declared. She anxiously scanned the horizon for signs of civilization, namely pockets of food, gas, and lodging. She leaned over slightly to peek at the gas gauge, but it was obscured by her father’s right hand. She didn’t want to make a show of hunger pangs, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could bear them, either.