by K. J. Dahlen
Tucker shook his head. "Yeah, but you have plans to take me in, and then things will get messy with a judge and a jury. I can't allow that to happen. I made up my mind to that a long time ago. I'd rather be dead than in jail, and you're too much of a cop to just shoot me. I'll walk away from this encounter, and after a while I'll go back to killing people again. You are just like all the others"
Tucker eased his way closer to the door. He was clearly confident in his assessment of Sam's character. He paused and looked at Sam. But Sam's resolve wasn't weakening.
Tucker played one last card. He grew impatient and snarled, "If you're going to shoot me, then shoot me. What are you waiting for?"
Sam hesitated and watched as Tucker's snarl turned into a sneer. "You're about as worthless as a screen door on a submarine, you and the rest of the world. No one has any guts anymore." Tucker turned and began walking toward the door.
"Tucker Briggs," Sam shouted, "turn around!"
Tucker turned to face Sam. The knife in his hands was raised to a defensive position. Sam could see that he was ready to charge at him, and Sam didn't hesitate. His index finger tightened slightly, and the gun in his hand exploded.
A surprised Tucker looked down at his chest. Blood stained his shirt. He hadn't expected this turn of events. He had been so sure that Sam wouldn't shoot.
Tucker fell to his knees. His breathing was shallow, and as he tried to suck in more air, the blood gurgled in the back of his throat. He began choking on it, and as he coughed, blood spewed from his mouth. He fell to the floor and tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He couldn't catch his breath, and finally there was silence. Tucker Briggs was dead.
Sam moved away from the shadows and stood over Tucker's body. Tucker's eyes were open and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. The front of his shirt was red with blood. Sam reached for his neck but didn't find a pulse. He kicked the knife out of Tucker's hand and leaned down to check his pulse. There was none.
The boat rocked as Cole jumped aboard, and Sam met him at the door. Cole took one look at his face and backed away to let Sam up on deck. He disappeared below for a minute, then came back and joined Sam.
"Well, it's over this time for sure. Tucker won't hurt anyone else ever again," Cole said.
"I didn't have a choice. He had the knife in his hand, and he was coming for me. I didn't want to shoot him. I wanted to take him in. I hope you understand that," Sam told him. "He said that the game was really to find out if anyone could stop him. He told me that others have tried but that no one ever got as close as we did, and that no one ever kept coming like we did. He killed Chloe and took Wyatt to test me, to see how far I would go to get him back. He had such a look of stunned disbelief on his face when I shot him. He didn't think I would do it."
Cole looked at Sam and could read the truth in his eyes. "I know. There was something different about Tucker, and nobody knew what to do about it. He died the way he lived, on his own terms. Maybe this was the way it had to end the whole time. Maybe Tucker was right in his choice. He knew you wouldn't let him go. Maybe you were the only one who could stop him all along."
Sam looked at Cole and then at the doorway that led belowdecks. "We'd better call John Sanders. He'll want to be notified that there is a body now."
Sam left the boat and walked to the water's edge. His nightmare was finally over. He had a lot to make up for, but killing Tucker had been necessary. Suddenly, Sam couldn't wait to see his son. He wanted to feel Wyatt's arms around his neck again. Life without Chloe would be hard, but at least he still had Wyatt, and he knew they would somehow make it. They had both lost so much in the last few weeks, but together they would survive.