Before the car had even stopped, Emmett opened the door and jumped out with a Remington M870 shotgun in his hands.
—Damn it, did a war break out?—
Brock, rising from the passenger seat with an M4 in his hand, stared at the scene in disbelief. Several bodies and spent shell casings were scattered across the ground. He lowered the weapon and scratched his head, still in shock.
—Guys, you're here already,— Ethan commented with a smile, watching the surprised expressions on his colleagues' faces as he put out his cigarette.
—We got your call and came as fast as we could. Chief Hood is on his way too,— Emmett replied, curiously approaching the burning body in front of them.
He covered his nose and quickly stepped back.
—I didn't expect you to take care of all of them so fast.—
Emmett looked at Ethan with admiration. With an M4A1 hanging from Ethan's back and a Pietro Beretta revolver in his hand, the tension on his face was obvious.
—Those idiots came here looking for trouble and ran straight into my gun. Look what they did to my damn truck.—
Ethan walked toward his Ford F-150. The body was riddled with bullet holes, the windshield was shattered, and the rearview mirror hung loose. The vehicle was ready for the scrapyard.
—Ethan, I'll compensate you for the loss,— Siobhan said timidly, looking at the state of the truck.
—It's fine, Ethan. You can request a grant from the office. It shouldn't be a problem, considering the noise these guys made today. Since you resolved the matter, it should be easy to ask for funds,— Brock suggested with a wave of his hand before adding, —Siobhan, you'd better change clothes. At least put on some shoes.—
As he spoke, Hood also arrived at the scene.
Once the scene was cleared and Ethan had called a tow truck for the F-150, he stopped Hood.
—Boss, you can go first. I'll take him,— Siobhan said, approaching with a thin coat in her hands.
Hood winked at Ethan with a smile before starting the vehicle and leaving.
—Would you like to have a drink with me? I don't think I can sleep right now,— Siobhan suggested.
After hesitating for a moment, Ethan nodded.
Back in the living room, The Amazing Race was still playing on the television.
Siobhan picked up the remote control, but Ethan stopped her.
—Leave it. I like watching it too.—
—Do you want something to drink? I have whiskey, brandy, beer, and red wine,— Siobhan offered.
—Whiskey, please. With a little ice, thanks,— Ethan replied, settling onto the couch.
Ethan poured more than half the bottle into his glass, then lifted it toward Siobhan's.
—Tell me when to stop.—
When her glass was almost full, she told him to stop. She took a sip and immediately coughed from the strength of the alcohol. Then she pulled two bags from under the table and tossed one to Ethan.
—I was lucky you were here tonight. I didn't expect those people to actually come after me for revenge,— Siobhan said, the light from the television reflecting on her face.
—Don't worry. They would have done the same if it had been Emmett. Like I told you, we're friends, and friends look after each other.—
Siobhan lowered her head slightly, then looked at him with reddened eyes.
—You know? Today is my birthday. I didn't expect it to turn out like this.—
—Wow, that's a surprise. Happy birthday.— Ethan straightened on the sofa. —Too bad those idiots ruined everything, but at least I lit a big candle for you, right?—
Siobhan laughed and threw a handful of chips at him.
Later, seeing that she was clearly drunk, Ethan took the glass from her trembling hands.
—You shouldn't drink anymore. Just get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow.—
At his house, Ethan saw Rebecca sitting on the porch steps.
—Where have you been? I've been waiting for a long time.—
Later, wrapped in a blanket on the porch, Rebecca murmured softly:
—You have to do me a favor and get my knife back.—
—Hood has it, right? No problem,— Ethan nodded. —I heard you stabbed a gang member at the celebration today. I have to say, you did a great job. It was self-defense. I don't understand why your father and your people took you to the station.—
Rebecca sighed.
—My people don't believe in violence. The Lord said we must be patient, ignore wicked people, and not resort to violence. What I did today is intolerable in their eyes. I'll have to repent publicly later, and I'll be ostracized.—
Ethan smiled faintly.
—Now I feel like I'm two-faced. At first glance, I'm a conservative, well-behaved Amish girl, but in secret, I live the life of an outsider. You were right… I simply like violence.—
The next morning, on television, the host joked during a report about minor geological activity in California:
—Come on, all of California is in an earthquake zone. Things like this happen every year. A few mild tremors are normal. They're just little cracks that appear on the surface from time to time. Find a plastic surgeon. I'll do it for you.—
The host laughed and added:
—If you want to share some fun earthquake facts, call Lisa and Randy at 555.—
Later, at the station:
—Don't look at me. I have a lot of paperwork to finish,— Siobhan said without lifting her head.
—You're incredible. How did you know I wanted to ask you for help?—
—Alma is on vacation, and your chair keeps squeaking. What, did you think I wouldn't notice?—
—I think you're smart enough to be an FBI agent.—
—I'm not interested in that. Bring me a cup too.— Siobhan instantly raised her arm.
When Ethan handed Hood his leave request:
—Thanks, Sheriff,— Ethan said happily, waving the approved form before leaving the office.