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"I'm
expecting you to make a break for it, or to yell for help," I told him as
I took the pistol out of its holster. I pushed the barrel of the gun into
his back with one hand and grabbed his shoulder with the other, leaning in
close to his ear. I noted the gray hairs that were taking over his head.
"Know
that I'll kill you."
He stiffened in response to my threat, but kept moving. I holstered the
weapon and we left the store.
"You know where it is."
"Just beneath the
surface," he replied,
looking over his shoulder at me.
"Just far enough that you
can't quite reach it."
I shoved him for good measure, but didn't dwell on his strange statement
for very long, concerned that a passerby might figure out what was going
on and call the police.
We walked the rest of the way to the bar in silence. |
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