CHAPTER 79 SHERIFF ELLIE

79

Sheriff Ellie

ELLIE FOUND HERSELF STANDING at the back of the Gas 'n' Go at the base of the mountains out on Route 112.

She knew that wasn't possible. She knew she was driving her truck—or at least had been driving her truck—not a moment earlier. She was so certain of that her hands ached from gripping the steering wheel so tight, and that meant she couldn't be here.

But …

When she drew in a breath, her lungs filled with the sour scent of hot dogs left to char all day on the metal rack, the faint scent of gasoline and motor oil carried in by customers at the pumps. She was standing next to the end display on the third aisle, the one with all the Hostess snacks, and she'd be damned if she wasn't holding a pack of HoHos, her favorite, but something she'd given up years ago under doctor's orders.

That wasn't the strangest part.

At the far end of the large cooler lining the back wall, holding the third door open and retrieving a bottle of water, was her.

Not her current self, but a younger version of herself, mid-thirties at most, wearing not a sheriff's uniform but a deputy's uniform with the exception of the hat. As always, her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, and this version of her was also holding a package of HoHos.

Ellie was still staring at this doppelg?nger, this other version of herself, when the bell above the door chimed. She probably wouldn't have turned away to look if not for the gruff voice, low and urgent.

"Empty the register in a bag, and hand it over!"

He was wearing a black ski mask, filthy camouflage jacket, and jeans. A large revolver gripped tight in his shaky hand, pointed over the counter at the kid Ellie somehow knew worked the night shift every Wednesday through Saturday.

The much-younger Ellie at the cooler had turned, too, her eyes growing wide as the cashier responded, his voice nearly an octave higher than normal.

"I just emptied the register into the safe. There's only a hundred dollars in the till."

"Put it in a fucking bag, then empty the safe, too. Hurry the hell up!"

"The safe is time-locked. I can't open it for another fifty-three min—"

"Put the money in the fucking bag!"

The young Ellie at the cooler slowly set her package of HoHos on a rack of car batteries to her side along with the bottle of water and carefully unsnapped the leather strap on her service weapon, quietly removing the gun. This wasn't the weapon Ellie usually carried, but instead was the old Colt her father had given her when she graduated from the academy. An L-frame double-action .357. Big and bulky, compared to the semiautomatic she favored today.

Ellie knew this younger Ellie was making a mistake. She had a better view of the gunman, could see how bad he was shaking, but more important, she'd caught a glimpse of his teeth when he barked out that last command. Many were missing, others were black—a telltale sign of a meth head. He was high right now, that was in his eyes. Probably smoked right before coming in. That meant unpredictable. Dangerous. The better plan was to let this play out. Let him take the cash and go. Get him outside where no one else would get hurt. She tried to signal Younger Ellie and realized she couldn't move.

Younger Ellie crouched low, slowly began making her way up the aisle toward the front of the store as Older Ellie watched helplessly.

"I ain't gonna tell you again!" the man shouted. He swept his arm across the counter and knocked down a display of lighters and bottle openers with a loud crash.

The cashier jumped. He beat on the register until it popped open and began filling a plastic bag with money.

"Whatever you got under the till, too! I know you hide the big bills there! Move!"

Ellie could see the cashier hadn't been lying. There were only two twenties and a handful of smaller bills.

Younger Ellie had closed the distance by half and was raising her gun. Her stance was all wrong; too much weight on her back foot, and her finger was on the trigger rather than the guard. Although not as bad as the man at the counter, she was shaking, too, and Ellie knew this was about to go bad in the moments before it did.

The gunman spotted the safe. Under the counter, behind the cashier, the cabinet door left open just enough for the safe to be visible. Ellie had no idea how she knew this, because she couldn't see it from the place where she was frozen watching everything play out, but she was as absolutely certain of those facts as she was in knowing Younger Ellie was about to make a terrible mistake.

Younger Ellie yelled out, "Police, don't move!" as the gunman leaned over to try to read a sticker on the cabinet housing the safe—the sticker Ellie somehow also knew read TIMED

OPEN—CASHIER DOES NOT HAVE A KEY . He leaned over as Ellie yelled, and that bit of movement was enough to cause Younger Ellie to jerk back on the trigger.

The Colt went off with a loud explosion. With Young Ellie's weight on her back foot instead of the front, the force of the blast jerked her arms up. The shot sailed over the leaning gunman and caught the cashier just above his right eye and exited the back of his head, destroying the corner of the cigarette rack on the back wall.

The cashier fell.

The gunman twisted around.

From her spot, frozen near the back of the store, Ellie wanted to yell at Young Ellie, scream for her to jump to the side, but no sound came out. Even as the gunman's arm jerked out, as his gun came around and pointed at Young Ellie, she couldn't make a sound.

Ellie didn't hear his shot.

Her eyes snapped open when the girl in the passenger seat of the Ford released her wrist.

Somehow, Ellie was still driving, and although she had no memory of it, they'd followed the switchback up the mountain and were slowing as Buck's cabin came into view. She managed to get them into his short driveway and throw the truck in park before the shaking began. Every inch of her was quivering when she forced herself to look at the girl beside her. "What the actual fuck was that?"