Chapter 15
Deeper in the Florida Everglades 3:45 pm
Booth sat in his wet muddy pants as the boat zoomed along. There hadn't been any sign of Robert or Andrew yet and he was beginning to wonder if they weren't too late already. He turned to Brennan.
"I don't like this!" He called over the roar of the motor. Brennan only shook her head and continued to look. Her mood had been strange as of late but she was wrestling with a lot of things so he let it slide for now. The plane ride back to D.C. would allow them to talk.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang. Booth recognized the sound as a .357 Magnum revolver, an older gun but still just as lethal. The police officer heard it as well and turned the boat in the direction of the noise.
WWWWWWWWWWWWW
Andrew looked down at his chest. He could feel blood beginning to well up in his mouth and tried to spit it out but couldn't. The look on Robert's face was not what he expected. It was frightened instead of the coldness he'd seen earlier. Falling to the bottom of the boat, Andrew began to choke and gasp.
WWWWWWWWWWWWW
Booth removed his Glock 22 from his shoulder holster and aimed it at the man standing in the boat. He'd seen Andrew fall and he knew it was just a matter of time before Robert turned the revolver on himself. The FBI Agent wasn't about to let that happen.
WWWWWWWWWWWWW
Robert felt pain in his right shoulder and moved his left hand to it. Blood began to drip into the boat and he dropped the revolver. He hadn't heard anything until that moment. Now shouting and a boat motors entered his ears.
WWWWWWWWWWWWW
"ROBERT WOVE, THIS IS THE POLICE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!" An officer from another boat shouted over a megaphone. Robert started to raise his one good arm up. He knew it would be futile to try to grab the revolver with his left hand but something told him it didn't matter. Quickly, he bent down and reached for the revolver.
At that moment, Booth saw what he was about to do and lifted his 9mm handgun up once more. He had promised himself that he would never kill again but this time it didn't appear that there was much of an option. If Robert Wove came up with his weapon, he would have to take him out.
Robert came up with his weapon pointing at the police boats as Booth expected. The FBI Agent had a moment to react and he took it. Booth squeezed the trigger on his Glock, praying to God, it was the right thing to do.
Robert Wove's last memory was being hit in his other shoulder. He tumbled backwards and hit his head on one of the boat seats. Booth had chosen to spare his life and make him live it out in prison or receive the death penalty.
To Be Continued…
Another short one. I know, I know, bad monkey ;)