Chapter 1

My name is Abraham Charles Easton. I prefer to be called either "Abe" or "Ace." I have never liked Abraham. I am six foot, two inches, tall and weigh two hundred ten pounds. Little of it is fat. I am twenty-nine years old. With a healthy head of black hair and dark eyes, I am told that I have a tendency to glower at people. I can smile but that's not my habit. I've seen too much that wasn't pleasant.

I am working on a Master's degree in Engineering at Auburn University though I'm a little old even for a grad student. The Christmas holidays start tomorrow and I have no place to go. That's not surprising.

I have no family and no girl. My parents and I were only children. They were killed in a traffic accident while I was overseas. I returned to find the house sold and the proceeds and their life insurance deposited in a trust account for me. My dad liked life insurance and both my parents were well-covered. The drunk who killed them had a good auto policy and the suit in my name was won for the maximum of his insurance coverage. The result was over a million dollars after expenses and fees. My savings added another hundred thousand to that number. I had veteran's benefits to cover my college. I was still in the reserve but had no other obligation.

Instead of renting, I bought a small farm west of the University and even west of but close to Notasulga. I had a truck and didn't mind the commute. I enjoyed traipsing in the woods that I owned. My neighbors were nice and minded their business. I did, too. I had my guns and, from habit, went armed. I also had the proper permits. I carried a pistol in my truck or on my person. In five years, it only came out once. That's where this story starts.

That last morning of classes, I pulled in at a convenience store that I frequented. I happened to be wearing an ankle holster when I went inside. I was pouring coffee into my mug when two men came in and loudly shouted, "Everyone raise your hands! Anybody starting trouble gets hurt!" They both had automatic pistols. I ducked down and put the pot and my mug on the floor. While kneeling, I pulled my little thirty-two caliber pistol from its holster.

I didn't like the odds but the old man at the register was a good guy and the two were waving their pistols in a threatening manner. I came by at this time everyday during the school year and he made sure the coffee was fresh. The old man had his hands up and had backed away from the register. We had talked. I knew he had served in 'Nam. I took aim and shouted, "Down! Drop the guns or I shoot!" The old man dropped to the floor. The two would be robbers turned their guns my way and died. As he fell, one got off a shot in my vague direction. I walked up and checked their bodies for any sign of life kicking their pistols away. I went to the register and laid my pistol on it with the safety set. I went over to the old man and helped him up. We waited for the police. He had hit the silent alarm when they first started trouble. He called and told them that all was now quiet and the robbers were dead thanks to a customer.

A police car came screaming up with lights and sirens in full action. Gun drawn, one policeman charged into the store followed more sedately by another. "Hands up!" We heard and obeyed. The quieter one of them knew Mister Donaldson and asked, "What happened?"

I interrupted. "Didn't your dispatch inform you that everything was over?" I was lowering my hands.

"Keep your hands up, wise guy!" His pistol was pointed at me.

Mister Donaldson said, "Leave him alone! He is a good customer and stopped the robbery!"

The first cop said, "We'll see." He looked at me. "In the meantime, you are under arrest for robbery." He grabbed my hands one at a time and cuffed me.

After being cuffed, I looked him in the eye. "Officer, there will be a reckoning just between you and me."

"Don't threaten me!"

"It's not a threat." I said it quietly.

The other officer had been checking the deceased robbers. He said, "Jones, what's going on?"

Mister Donaldson jumped in again. "This man," pointing at me, "stopped the robbery and then that young fool cuffed him."

"Jones, why is he in cuffs? Didn't Mister Donaldson tell you he was a good guy?"

"Yeah, but he was challenging me. I thought he might be armed and dangerous."

"Son, you need to learn who your friends are and 'not' make them into enemies." He sighed. "Release him and apologize."

He took the cuffs off me but said nothing. The older officer said, "Jones, are you trying to commit suicide?"

"What?"

"That man could have shoved your pistol up your ass without breaking a sweat even in cuffs." He looked at me. "Seals, Delta force, or special forces?"

I said, "Marine recon."

"Shit!" he said. "Jones, apologize very carefully and stand well out of the way." The older man wore sergeants' stripes.

"Uh, I'm sorry. It was a bad reaction."

I said, "No harm, no foul." I shook his hand and gave him a little squeeze. I saw a bit of pain cross his face.

The sergeant said, "What happened, Marine?"

I said, "Sarge, I was getting some coffee when those two showed up and shouted. I happened to have a thirty-two in a holster. I went to the floor and pulled it out. I told them to drop their guns. When they turned to shoot, I took them out. One of them got off a shot but hit nothing. They should have listened."

"Yeah, stupid people made stupid decisions." He shrugged. "Where is your pistol?"

"It's on the counter with the safety on."

He glanced over at it. "I'm guessing you have a license?"

"Yes, Sarge. It's in my wallet in the glove box along with my driver's license." I buy coffee for cash and wasn't planning to be in a shootout."

The sergeant gave a grim smile. "That's the breaks. Where were you going?"

"To Auburn for classes. I'm finishing my master's."

"When are you finished for the day?"

"About three."

"Okay, please get your wallet so I can check your license. Drop by at the department in Notasulga to make a formal statement and pick up your pistol. Thank you, Marine."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

I left after getting my wallet and showing my driver's license and surrendering my permit for verification. I went on to school and came by the police department office when I got out of class. The sergeant was there. "Good afternoon, Mister Easton. Thank you for coming by. The captain has a couple of questions and your pistol."

I pulled my wallet and replaced my concealed carry license. I knocked and entered, standing easily. The captain said, "Oh, Mister Easton. Thank you for coming in. There's your pistol. Those two had records. Unofficially, thank you for removing them. Sooner or later, they would have hurt someone. There will be no charges."

"Thank you, Sir. It was just a fortunate point in time, except for them."

"Would you be interested in teaching firearms for the department. We don't have anyone who is really good. You hit those two right between the eyes."

"Sir, I really should practice more. One shot was almost a millimeter off to the right."

"This would give you that chance and let you teach my men and women how to handle a pistol better and more safely." He smiled. "I can't pay much but you get all the pistol ammunition you want as well as a free place to shoot. Sergeant Moss says you could help us be better. Jones was nervous because he isn't that good with a pistol."

"He may not like my lessons."

The captain grimaced. "He would like dying even less. Moss says he still has no idea how close he came to dying this morning. He has the makings of a good man but needs experience and real confidence.