Chapter 12: Dusty O'Malley

Back at the Lipton pharmacy. The aftermath. Squad cars with cherries flashing front the building. A squat sheriff finishes hanging police tape near the door. The Silver Bullet car pulls up and Army Boots step out.

The sheriff eyes the man with the army boots, blue jeans, the silver gun. His cold blue eyes are as cruel as the scowl on his face. He’s a youngish man, not even 30, but something burns within him that makes him much older. He flashes the sheriff a silver badge.

“Dusty O’Malley.”

“Bit out of the way, ain'tcha?”

“A bit. What you got here?”

“Owner got himself shot. Had his gun out but someone got him first. Know anything about it?”

Dusty peers off through the distance and he notes the train disappearing over the horizon.

“Maybe.”

Dusty follows the sheriff to the station and they sit around a conference table in a cream colored room. The Sheriff pours himself a cup of coffee. Dusty kicks his feet up.