Page 73 of PSYCHOlogical

Chapter Thirty

Val

As much as I hated being in the predicament I was in, the happenings of the previous week or so were necessary for Vincent and me to survive. Shephard’s death, although tragic, started a sequence of events that would allow us to escape the government’s grasp and go on to live lives free of the murder, corruption, and manipulation that came hand-in-hand with New Dawn’s program.

I was anxious to begin a new chapter of my life but feared I may never make it. What began with the best of intentions had turned into an unpredictable mess. I hoped that Vincent had the capacity to fix what was broken, emerge unscathed, and negotiate his way to freedom.

After dinner, we talked for several hours. The entire time, Vincent checked his watch, repeatedly. Then, about ten o’clock, he stood, excused himself, and gathered the night’s necessities from the gun vault in the back room. When he emerged, a heavy canvas bag hung from one shoulder.

“Holy crap,” I exclaimed upon seeing his overstuffed bag. “You’re not staying gone for days, are you?”

“Should be back by midnight,” he replied.

“That bag looks heavy.”

He grinned a sly grin. “I’m not coming back until that son-of-a-bitch is dead. I’ve got everything in this bag to make sure that happens.”

“Do you really think we’ll be driving to D.C. on Monday?”

“In the next forty-eight hours,” he said with a sharp nod. “This will be over.”

The thought of it being over was surreal.

Vincent lowered his bag, unzipped it, and removed a pistol. “This is a double-action revolver. It’s as simple as any weapon can be. There’s no safety, no levers to flip, and no way you can fuck it up. You point it and pull the trigger.”

I knew at some point it was going to come to this. When the time came to use it, I was convinced I could. I didn’t have a choice.

“Is it loaded?” I asked.

“It’s loaded with hollow-point ammunition. They explode on impact.” Holding the revolver in one hand, he pointed to the trigger with the other. “All you need to do is place your finger in the trigger guard and pull the trigger. It’s holds six rounds. Point for the center of the chest and make your shots count.”

I took the pistol from his grasp. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Are you comfortable using it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure. Use it and live, or don’t and die.”

“If anyone gets in this house, I’ll use it,” I assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“I’ve got the security system set for an audible interior alarm. It’ll let you know if anyone penetrates the perimeter of the lot.” He handed me a slip of paper with a phone number written on it. “If anyone does, call me on this number.”

“Call? Not text?”

He nodded. “I’ll have a Bluetooth earbud in. If anyone penetrates the yard, call me. If they try to get in the house, call me again. After you call me, call the police.”

“You want me to call the police?”

“If whoever illuminates the perimeter lighting tries to get in, it means they’re serious. Call me, then call the police. Tell them there’s someone trying to get into your house, and that he has a gun.”

“Whether I’ve seen a gun or not?”

He nodded. “If they think someone’s armed, they’ll get here as soon as possible. Otherwise, they’ll consider it a false alarm.”

“Okay.”

I programmed the burner phone’s number into my phone, labeled the contact “HELP”, and then typed Vincent a text.