Critical Pursuit by Janice Cantore Read Free Book Online

the Utah desert fading behind her.

8
    JACK STOOD just behind the twenty-yard line, waiting for the range master to check the line’s readiness and start the course of fire. Downrange, he imagined Gil Bridges’s face plastered to the bull’s-eye on his target.
    The order given, Jack pulled the slide back and slid the first round into the chamber of his automatic. He stepped up to the line to begin the qualification course. The shooting line was full. Jack had waited until the last day in the quarter to qualify.
    Officers on his right and left began to shoot as he sighted the target. He shut out the noise and concentrated. All four of his first rounds went dead center. Into Gil Bridges’s drunk face. The remainder of the fifty-round course continued in the same manner. At the fifteen-yard line, the seven, and the five, Jack imagined pumping rounds into the man who’d killed his wife.
    When everyone finished firing and the range master cleared the line, Jack stepped forward to collect his target. The bull’s-eye was a gaping hole, Jack’s cluster of bulletsneatly destroying the center of the target. Officers on either side of him congratulated his marksmanship.
    “Good shooting, O’Reilly,” the range master said when Jack handed him the target to score. He scribbled 100% on the cardboard and reminded Jack to fill out a qualification slip. “It’s a nice feeling to know you’ll hit what you aim at.”
    Jack nodded and filled out his slip. As he cleaned his gun, he considered the fantasies running through his head. Fantasies of chasing Gil Bridges down and shooting him dead in the street. The closer the sentencing drew, the darker his thoughts became. They fascinated him as much as they disgusted him. For sixteen years he’d carried a badge to protect life, not contemplate taking it.
    Somehow his fantasies sent the message that Gil Bridges’s death would ease his own pain, make Vicki’s death more manageable.
    “You have to let go of the bitterness you feel toward Bridges,” Doc Bell had told him. “It’s eating you alive.”
    “I can’t help it,” Jack had said. “Why did Vicki have to lose her life to a worthless drunk?”
    “There’s no answer to that. No way to change it and bring Vicki back. Grieve, Jack   —that’s normal   —but don’t brood. Don’t let hate fester. It will poison you. You’ll never forget, but you must try for some level of forgiveness. Have you contacted any of the support groups I suggested?”
    “No, I’m not ready for that. I just need to work, get out of the house. I think patrol will be a good change.” I’ll never forgive.
    When Doc Bell was silent for a minute, Jack had fearedhe’d failed the interview, feared Bell would see through him and take away the gun, the badge.
    “I agree a change will be good for you,” Bell had said finally. “And patrol was something you excelled at five years ago.” He’d tapped on his chin with his ballpoint pen. “I’m going to approve the transfer, on one condition.”
    “Condition?” Jack swallowed.
    “I want you back in my office after you’ve been in patrol for a bit, and after the sentencing. I want to hear from you how patrol has been and I want to see how you handle whatever sentence Bridges is given. Agreed?”
    Jack had let the thinnest of smiles cross his lips. “Sure, Doc, two weeks.”
    Now Jack reassembled his gun and loaded it for duty, wondering what on earth he’d have to say to Doc Bell after Gil Bridges received his sentence.
    * * *
    Brinna stopped again in Mesquite, desperately wanting a long, hot shower. She felt she could take her time getting home. She even had a plan about a place to go before she went directly home. She and Hero left Mesquite early and were back across the California border that afternoon. They stopped for lunch in Baker. Brinna eyed the pay phone and thought about calling Milo. His fishing trip would have ended two days ago.
    “How about we surprise Milo?” she said to