Final Showdown

Fury surges through every cell in Jeff's body as he imagines the hell Julie and his girls endured the past few days, all thanks to him. Jeff clinches and unclinches the steering wheel as he plans his revenge. "I told you what I'd do to you if you hurt my girls. Now you and your crew are going to pay."

Jeff glances at the AR15 beside him and smiles, thinking about the carnage about to occur. He'd taken the rifle and Antonio's 44 magnum before he fled. "I'm coming for you, Bambini, for you and all of your crew," Jeff growls, pushing the pedal to the floor.

He makes a sharp right onto the county road. The car's hot tires squeal in protest as the back end fishtails around. "All of you worthless pieces of shit will die today." Rocks ping against his car, but Jeff is too busy picturing the massacre to care. "I'm sending you all to hell where you belong." Sliding his coupe into the drive, he pockets the handgun and then grabs the rifle lying diagonal on the seat. He glances up to find a guard heading his way, gun in hand. He'll be good practice for my main event. Opening the door, Jeff aims at the man's chest. There's a soft ping. The burly man falls to the ground. One down, dozen to go, Jeff thinks. Zig-zagging around the guard, Jeff bolts toward the house. Horrid images of his girls replay in his mind causing anger to boil inside him. You're so dead. He thinks as he storms down the hall.

Jeff kicks in the office door the way he's seen cops do on TV. He figures his entrance will be more dramatic and catch them by surprise. The heavy barrier slams against the wall. A family portrait crashes to the floor. Glass scatters across the carpeted floor.

Bambini springs to his feet. His face turns a crimson as anger surges through every ounce of his short, rounded body. "How dare you barge into my office like that. Kicking my door down and knocking things around," he yells, pounding his fists on the desk. Papers scattered across the floor, but Bambini was too upset to notice or care.

"Your goons hurt my family, and now you'll pay." Lifting the gun to his shoulder, Jeff squeezes the trigger. A bullet zips across the room. "No one hurts the Donaldson and lives to tell about it. No one, not while I'm alive." He yells, squeezing the trigger again.

Bambini's bloody body stumbles backward and then folds to the floor. Hearing the commotion, Luigi rushes in from an adjoining room, gun in hand. Luigi aims as Jeff sends a couple of bullets his way. The goon pulls his trigger as he falls to the floor—the stray bullet lodges into the colorful mural above them. What a waste, Jeff thinks.

Jeff hears tiny footsteps running down the hall. He turns to find a small, teary child standing at the door.

Her long brown hair is braided, hanging down the center of her back. Her floral printed dress brings out the gold specks in her large, almond eyes. "Papa," the little girl cries, racing across the room. Falling to the floor, the child drapes her arm around her daddy's neck. "Oh. Papa," she sobs, lying across his bloody corpse.

The man wraps his arms around his daughter, glances at her, and says, te amo meja (I love you, honey.) His eyes roll to the back of his head. His arms fall to his side.

"Don't die on me, papa. Please don't die," the child cries.

Jeff's heart breaks as he watches the little girl sob across her dead dad's body. A realization suddenly hits him. I've turned into a cold, ruthless killer like them. Jeff shivers at the thought. He then remembers what Bambini's men did to his family, how the man had him running scared. Ojo por Ojo, Bambini, an eye for an eye like you said.

Turning, Jeff bolts toward the door. He's halfway down the hall when he hears a child's voice cry out, "Mataste a mi papi ( you killed my daddy.)

He turns to find the little girl with a gun. Raising her weapon, the child pulls the trigger.

The bullet lodges in Jeff's left thigh, knocking him to the ground. The gun flies out of the little girl's hand when she falls.

Hearing the commotion, an older lady races into the hall. She screams something in Italian as her hands fly about. "Perchehaiuccisomio marito, perhche?" "Why did you kill my husband why?" she asks as tears stream down her plump, wrinkled face.

Jeff realized he only had two choices, he could kill the two or run. I don't want to add innocent victims to my list, he thinks, eyeing the two cuddled on the floor. A second thought suddenly comes to mind. I only have a few seconds before Bambin's men come charging in. His original plan was to take them down, but with a bullet in his leg, he's in no shape to fight them all off.

Excruciating pain radiates up Jeff's leg as he tries to get to his feet. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to stand. He takes a shaky step and falls. I have to make it out alive. Crawling to the credenza, he pulls himself up. Blood gushes from the wound, leaving a small trail behind. Using his gun like a cane, he wobbles down the hall.

He's almost to the entryway when the front door flies open. Two burly men race through the door.

Jeff raises his gun and shoots.

The men fall to the floor.

Making his way to the front of the house, he throws the wooden barrier open. The sun is slowly setting in the late afternoon skies sending a beautiful mix of orange and yellows across the horizon. It's been one hell of a day, Jeff thinks. Using his gun like a crutch, he hobbles down the steps. He glances down the drive to find his car miles away. Every bone in his body begins to ache. I can do this, he thinks, Pushing past the excruciating pain, he hobbles across the yard.

Seeing police cars bumping down the rugged dirt road, Jeff hobbles back towards the house.

The cruiser skids to a stop; Jerry jumps out, aims at the suspect, and yells, "Stop, police."

Jeff takes a few unsure steps, then falls to the ground.

*** 6 months later

Rachel is working on a new case at her desk. There's been a rash of home invasions scattered throughout the town. It started around the time the local soup kitchen went belly up, which explains why the only thing that's missing is food. She believes the suspect or suspects has to know the town and the people in it well. Which doesn't help much since everyone seems to know everyone.

Since the shutdown affects the homeless the most, she decided to interview them first, but they weren't much help. Why would they turn on someone helping them out? Without a single trace of evidence and no real leads, the case is nothing more than a guessing game. Aggravated she's hit a brick wall, Rachel decides to take a different approach. She figures if she can get the soup kitchen up and running, the burglaries will stop. So this leaves her playing politics, something she hates.

Rachel glances over at the picture of her, Julie, and the two girls on Moonshine Beach taken a couple of weeks ago. It's so nice to be able to go back to work knowing my friends will be alright, she thinks, remembering that particular day.

The DA offered Jeff a plea agreement where he'll serve minimum time if he turns state's evidence against Bambini's organization. Thinking that his men will keep the business going despite his demise.

Since Julie killed the attackers in self-defense, the DA decided not to press charges against her.

Rachel glances over to find Joe headed towards her. Things have been uneasy between them since he blurted out what he did that day at the Donaldson house.

Rachel is waiting for backup when she hears gunfire inside the house. Rachel races across the yard, radio in hand. "Shots fired at this location. I'm going in."

Joe's gruff voice blares across the mic. "Stand down, detective. Stand down."

"Innocent lives might be at stake." Rachel replies.

"I'm ordering you to stand down until help arrives. We're one minute out."

Rachel glances toward the street, but it's completely still. Second gunfire rings out. Rachel lifts her radio and says, "A minute may be too late."

Joe pictures fun times he and her shared in his mind. He then pictures his fiance's demise. A man Joe was after shot her in the street as a message to Joe to back off. Joe tries to save his sweetheart to no avail. I won't let it happen again, I won't. Tears swell in his eyes when he blurts out, "I love you, Rachel, and I don't want to see you get hurt. So stand down, detective, please stand down for me."

Rachel has tried talking to him about it for weeks, but he always makes up an excuse to leave, which breaks Rachel's heart. She and Joe had been best buds since grade school, and she didn't want their friendship to end this way. She watches as Joe walks across the room. He'll see me and dart the other way, she thinks. But to her surprise, he plops down beside her.

"Hey there, stranger."

Clearing his throat, Joe turns and says, "I'd like to talk to you about what I said the other day."

"It's alright, Joe, I understand, it was an excited utterance. There was a lot going on."

No, no, you don't understand."

"I do, Joe. Honest, I do. You had.."

Joe puts his finger to her lips. "I love you, Rachel. I have for a long time, but I wasn't sure if you felt..."

Cupping Joe's face in her hands, Rachel brings his face closer and presses her lips against his.

"I guess you got your answer, boss." Jerry chuckles as he walks past.