With that, he was out of the pickup, pistol in hand, moving sideways so he could survey the store and get a better view of Larry before closing in. Through the hardware store bank of windows, he didn’t detect any movement. A fluorescent light was flickering on and off toward the far left side of the store. All of the windows were intact, and the entrance door was shut.
“Keep an eye on those windows and the door. If you see anything move, anything at all, give a shout, but don’t fire,” he called out to Mark. He realized that from this range, with a revolver he wasn’t used to, Mark was more likely to hit him than any adversary. He just needed him to be the proverbial eyes in the back of his head.
Cooper closed the gap to where Larry lay prostrate quickly, at a half crouch, keeping his eyes trained on the store. He still saw nothing.
Larry had been shot, twice. The left side of his head, just above the ear had a gruesome crevice that had been carved by a bullet creasing across his head. A streak of congealed blood covered the path where his hair and skin had been shot away. A second round had hit him in the belly and it made a sickening sucking sound as he breathed in shallow breaths. Larry lay spread-eagled, both legs and arms akimbo. He had fallen, and fallen hard when he’d been shot. He had lost a lot of blood, with a puddle almost two feet in diameter from underneath his back. The other bullet had gone through and exited his back.
“Larry, can you hear me?”
A listless moan emitted from his lips, dry and hoarse. His left eye cracked open a millimeter. The brown iris looked at him with a sharply dilated pupil.
“Larry, it’s me, Cooper Adams. What happened?” He had already torn off part of his t-shirt and was applying direct pressure to the stomach wound.
“Don’t bother,” Larry croaked.
“What?”
“It hurts too much and it won’t matter. Been here too long,” he rasped. “Bleeding.”
Cooper eased up on the pressure, but kept his hand in place. He had to do something. “What happened?”
“Punks,” Larry coughed and blood spilled from his lips.
“Stealing. I chased them. Stupid.” He wheezed and sprayed a mist of blood. Cooper ducked his head to avoid it.
“Young guys, in a van.” Cooper felt his blood rush to his face and his right hand clenched.
“Can I do anything for you?”
“Tell Barb I love her and that it was a great life,” blood and emotion choked the last few words.
“You’re a good man, Larry. One of the best I’ve ever known,” Cooper whispered to him, grabbing his hand.
Larry’s eyes shut. He lay quietly for what seemed like an eternity, but lasted only a few more shallow breathes. Then, he was gone, and the feeble grip that had responded to Cooper’s went loose.
Cooper bowed his head in silent reflection for a moment.
Then, he turned his head toward the sky, raised his hands, open-palmed, and vented his wrath, “No need! There was no need for this man to die! Larry limped like a three legged dog, you could have just outrun him, you stupid bastards!”
He stood up impatiently. He motioned for Mark to join him and he trotted over. Mark took one look at Larry, grew unsteady on his feet, and then vomited all over the hydrangea bush that lay next to him. He looked back toward Cooper, meekly.
“It’s alright. Don’t feel bad, it’s what happens the first time you see a body that was killed violently.”
“What happened?”
“Some punks rousted his store and he chased them. One of them must have turned back and shot at him. They were either lucky or a very good shot. From the shell casings over there, they were over ten yards away when they fired. Not an easy shot when people are moving.” Cooper motioned toward the curb, about five feet from where the pickup was parked.
Mark looked toward where he’d indicated and then wiped his mouth clean with the cuff of his sleeve, dirtying his blue cotton twill shirt.
“OK. Let’s do what we came for. First, you’ll find a blanket for Larry. Then, I’ll load up the tools and things we came for in a wheelbarrow.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police about Larry?”
“I’m not seeing too much of the police today, I’m going to try and find Barbara’s number in the store and call her. I have a message to deliver to her.”
Cooper quickly explained what he wanted Mark to do while they cleared the store. Cooper would take point with Mark providing another set of eyes and cover.
They found no one in the store, just a few overturned shelves, a broken display case that held knives with some obviously missing, and a smashed cash register with coins of silver and copper scattered across the counter and onto the floor.
“Looks like they took the big Rambo types,” Mark commented.
Mark found a blanket and went outside. Cooper quickly found Barb’s number on a slip of paper taped to the wall near the register labeled “Personal” that was smudged and dirty from years of use. I’ll call her from the house because we need to move quickly. He pulled out the list of what they needed and moved through the store methodically. He knew the store’s layout well from his years of shopping at Larry’s. Larry had also been a customer of Cooper’s. He pulled a wheelbarrow inside to load it up.
He was halfway done when Mark came back inside, with Jake in tow. “I figured it was safe to bring him in.”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks. I’m loading up the supplies. Why don’t you get what you need?”
Ten minutes later they had transferred their loads to the pickup.
“We need one more run back inside,” Cooper said.
“Why’s that?”
“Two things. We need to leave a list of what we’ve taken. And, I think we should get some lumber, the kind suitable for covering windows and doors.
“Larry’s dead, what’s the point of leaving a list?” Mark asked.
“Because Barbara isn’t.”
Mark nodded gravely, “OK. Got it.” His mouth turned upward in a wry smile, “You are one honest bastard, Cooper.” Cooper simply shrugged his shoulders in reply.
They took two wheelbarrows full of plywood and two by fours and left behind two signed notes detailing what they had taken from the store. They also left a brief note detailing how they had found Larry and what he had told them. Cooper didn’t think it would do much good, but he decided to call the police after all when he was back home. Maybe they would see the van and do something about it.
The truck rumbled west again, steered toward Cooper’s home. Jake broke the silence.
“Why did they kill Mr. Nevins?”
Cooper glanced at his son, who returned a mixed expression of curiosity and apprehension at what he might hear. “There are some people that are bad people, son.”
“Evil?”
“Not evil. Careless, I think.”
“Careless?”
“Yeah, careless. They aren’t thinking about what they’re doing.
They didn’t go there to kill anyone. But, they did kill because they were careless with a gun.”
“What is an evil person, then?”
Cooper thought for a moment before responding, “Evil is something bad done on purpose and is something that hurts people.”
“So stealing isn’t evil?”
“Stealing is bad, but it isn’t evil. Things can always be replaced, but people can’t be.” Cooper’s throat tightened on the last two words as he thought of Elena.
Jake had the same thought and his eyes filled with tears.
“Well, lookey here!” Mark shouted out. Cooper’s grip tightened on the steering wheel with his left hand and his right immediately went to his holster.
About twenty yards up, two people were approaching each other. The first was an ill-kept man, dressed in a motley collection of ragged clothes, including a red down jacket with several puffs of white feathers sticking out through the torn fabric. He looked to be in his sixties, white bedraggled hair sticking out haphazardly from a green, well-worn, woolen cap. Like the jacket, several wisps of hair stuck out of holes in the hat. The old man pushed a shopping cart full of supplies, but mostly the cart was full of several cases of bottled water. The man struggled pushing the weight.