Otis sensed it before Sam even heard it – tires crunching through the snow slowly approaching the diner’s driveway. The black lab growled, knowing instinctively it wasn’t Deb and the kids; it was much too early. They weren’t due back until around 10:00. Besides, Otis would have recognized the sound of Deb’s Jeep.
But there was one definitive reason why Otis knew it wasn’t Deb and the kids returning from their ski trip; Deb never drove in the dark with her lights off.
The instant Sam heard the vehicle, a knot started forming in his gut. “It’s ok, boy” he whispered soothingly to Otis while reaching for the service revolver he kept hidden in the cupboard and slipped it into the pocket of his Washington Wizards sweatshirt. Sam squinted in the darkness at the LED clock on the diner’s microwave – 5:10AM – too early, even for diehard customers. Tapping at his other pocket, Sam was reassured knowing his cell phone was there.
Careful not to knock over anything that would make noise, Sam quickly strode to the window and with one finger eased back the curtain ever so slightly. In the bleak pre-dawn hours he could barely make out the shape of a hulking SUV parked outside the diner. This was not just a business to Sam and Deb; the spacious second floor was home to them and their kids. If anyone tried to break in or cause harm, Sam took it very personally.
Otis growled again; Sam hushed the skittish dog and together they crept back to the counter and slid behind it. Sam fingered the gun in his pocket; he was ready if it came to that.
Footsteps on the front stairs were followed by a quick rap on the window. Otis was more nervous than ever and Sam spoke softly to him while slipping him a treat to keep him quiet. One more rap on the window, then the front door handle jiggled. Then jiggled again, this time with attitude. Sam decided he needed to go on the offensive.
“We’re closed” he called out. “If you need help, the police station’s just down the road. I can call them.”
“No need for that, champ” came a voice from the other side of the door. “I just ended my shift there. Saw a car leaving your parking lot and wanted to make sure everything was ok.”
“Thanks, we’re fine.” Sam replied through the door. Something about the way this guy said “champ” made the hair on his arms stand up.
“Hey, it’s my job. I’d feel better if you let me take a look around” declared the guy outside.
“And I’d feel better if you showed me some I.D. Just slip it under the door.”
“No problem, champ.” A shiny laminated wallet-size rectangle slid across the floor.
Glancing to make sure the deadbolt on the front door was secure, Sam quickly retrieved the card and checked it out in the glow of his cell. The I.D. confirmed the guy was a trooper and the photo staring back proved what Sam feared – this guy was no stranger.
“Son of a bitch! Dan McGinty!”
The same Dan McGinty from New York. Sam could never forget his brother officer from their days in the NYPD. A dirty cop, that piece of scum almost got Sam and his partner Frank killed in an ambush. Their testimony at Dan’s trial helped get a conviction but Frank would never walk again. What was McGinty doing out of jail and out here in the boonies? How the hell did he ever land a job as a state trooper? Sam had a really bad feeling about this.
Otis sprang to his feet, jolting Sam out of his momentary reverie. The black lab stared in the direction of the kitchen and growled loudly. And Sam knew. In the stillness of the early morning he heard that familiar voice behind him.
“Hey, champ. Been a real long time.”
It was the last thing Sam heard before the room went black.
NAR©2024
This is “The Messiah Will Come Again” by Roy Buchanan
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