One bullet can fix the past, but what if the past was a lie?
The Final Click
The July heat shimmered off the ranch house roof, thick and suffocating like a cheap wool blanket. Missy Trentine lay prone in the dirt, the scent of pine needles and gun oil filling her lungs. Through the glass of her binoculars, the world was a high-definition circle of betrayal.
There he was. Julian Vane.
He looked different in the sunlight—wholesome, almost. He was at the grill, flipping burgers and laughing with two buddies, the quintessential host. But Missy saw the predatory curve of his mouth, the same one her sister, Clara, had described through choked sobs. Clara had talked about the “party favor” he’d slipped into her drink, the cold room, and the way he’d discarded her like a cigarette butt in the rain.
Missy traded the binoculars for the cold, heavy weight of the bolt-action rifle. The crosshairs danced across the cotton of Vane’s polo shirt, eventually settling right over his heart.
Deep breath. Exhale. Hold.
Her finger tightened, taking up the slack in the trigger. This was justice. This was the only way to silence Clara’s nightmares.
Suddenly, the sliding glass door kicked open. Two small children, a boy and a girl no older than six, shrieked with joy as they charged across the lawn. They collided with Vane’s legs, hugging him tight. He looked down, his face transforming into an expression of pure, uncomplicated love.
Missy’s finger froze. She remembered Clara’s frantic, shifting eyes when she told the story. She remembered the $10,000 Clara suddenly “found” a week later.
Was this a monster hiding behind a family? Or was the story Missy had been told just another one of Clara’s expensive lies?
The crosshairs wavered.
Finish the Story
Does Missy pull the trigger, deciding the sins of the past outweigh the innocence of the present? Or does she lower the barrel, realizing she might be about to murder an innocent man based on the word of a troubled sister? The ending is in your hands.