Part fourteen
Buck didn't consider himself a particularly arrogant man, but he had always taken pride in his job. He'd even considered himself fairly competent at it.
Now, in a matter of days, that belief had been stripped away. Bad enough that such horrendous murders had afflicted his town but to discover that Vash the Stampede had been right under his nose…
Really, what the hell type of name was Vincent Price anyway?
He looked through the barred door separating his office from the holding cells. Vash had fallen asleep again, lanky frame folded on the lone bench, coat tucked around him as a blanket. His face in repose looked far younger, almost child-like, a sharp contrast to the man's well-know vicious nature.
That was something else that bothered the sheriff. Too many things didn't make sense. The pattern killer had been terrorizing Salem for weeks but Vash had only been spotted in town within the last few days. Plus, according to the people he'd interviewed over the past twenty-four hours, he'd been making a right nuisance of himself, too. So, why risk exposure for his crimes? And who had found that wanted poster in the first place? Buck had received occasional updates on the case almost since he'd become sheriff but hadn't gotten any paperwork on the outlaw in years.
Something was wrong. He just didn't know what.
The hell with it. The satellite message had been sent and the feds would be here in a couple days, taking the entire situation off his hands. He could collect the reward, rebuild his town, and never have to worry about Vash the Stampede again.
Pounding on the door startled him out of his reverie and Vash out of his sleep. Buck checked his pocket-watch and frowned. It was a little late for anyone to visit and too early for disturbance complaints to be coming in already. It could be another body, but he sincerely hoped not.
He rose languidly from his desk even as the knocking began shaking the door in its hinges. "All right, I'm coming! Keep your pants on."
"Sheriff." The outlaw had risen and was staring seriously at him from between the bars. "Don't."
Buck ignored the order and opened the door. His jaw fell. "Jimmy? Boy, what the hell happened to you?"
The young man leaned heavily against the wall, pale and trembling, blood seeping from a wound at his side. "Sheriff, you gotta help me. I-I escaped…the gang – they're crazy."
"Don't believe him," Vash spoke again. "Don't let him in."
"What?" Jimmy blinked, sagging a little further down the wall. "Who is that?"
"No one, son," Buck shook his head, even though he gave the outlaw a cursory glance. Probably just another head game. "Get in here, already. You look like death warmed over."
The boy nodded wearily and stumbled inside, nearly falling over. The sheriff caught him around the shoulders and guided him to one of the visitor's chairs. "You need anything? Food?"
"Water, please."
Buck nodded and filled up a cup with the pitcher on his desk, then retrieved a towel for Jimmy's cut. While he placed the cloth against the wound to staunch the blood flow, Jimmy drank down the water, barely pausing to breathe.
"What happened, Jimmy? Who took you?"
"I-I don't know," the boy shuddered. "They didn't say much. They-they…" He paused, took a deep breath, and finished in a whisper, "They said they took orders from Vash the Stampede."
"He's lying." Vash looked about ready to break down the door if the Buck didn't start listening. "Sheriff, please, you're in danger."
He sounded desperate. More importantly, he sounded sincere. Buck frowned at him. A few hours ago, the outlaw couldn't stop bragging how he'd fooled them all. Now, he seemed – scared. But of what, he didn't know.
"What's going on?" Jimmy's question brought his attention back to the task at hand. "What's he know 'bout this?"
"Probably nothing. You sure you heard that name right? It was definitely Vash the Stampede?"
" 'Course I did." Jimmy shifted back, looking offended, even a little angry. "You believe me, right?"
" Sure, Jimmy," Buck answered. Something most definitely did not add up here, and again he had only the vaguest idea of what it might be.
He looked towards the outlaw and stepped closer to the cell door. "You've got other men here?"
Vash shook his head, wide eyes drifting to Jimmy behind him. "I don't *have* any men. The girls were the only ones with me, I swear. Please, get out of here."
It fell into sudden place. Jimmy. The outlaw was terrified of Jimmy, that was what was wrong. And not because the boy could testify against him, but because something was inherently wrong with the boy himself.
Buck reached for his keys, ready to face whatever danger the outlaw offered over the boy behind him when he suddenly realized that the boy was *behind* him and that was really a very stupid position to be in. And then he felt a sharp pain in his neck, which he thought was a bit odd before he ceased thinking about anything at all and his world went black.
***
Vash stumbled back as Buck's body slumped to the floor, the sheriff's head now twisted at an unnatural angle.
The boy, Jimmy, grinned, features melting from human to the yellow-eyed monstrosity of the night before. "Sorry 'bout that, but couldn't have the sheriff letting you out or nothing."
The vampire grabbed the cell bars and pulled. The metal slowly began to bend.
"After all, I wanna see how you taste."
End Part Fourteen