Jen In Four Words

Ally

Jen ran from the warehouse, blood on her hands and murder on her mind. The Inspector deserved it. She did not feel bad. Life would be very different now that she committed the most heinous sin imaginable. And it felt good. Too good.

—

The blonde lady sat inside the Sheriff's office. She twiddled her thumbs and bounced her leg anxiously. She never had any interactions with the law before. The wooden chair was uncomfortable, the air was stuffy, and the atmosphere was thick.

The Sheriff walked in, beckoning the lady to follow him. His revolver shone even in the dim light of the office. The large, golden badge on his chest projected his authority. His burly hands and muscular physique made him stand out amongst the people.

The two approached the back of the office and sat across from each other. The Sheriff produced a sheet of parchment and a stick of charcoal.

"Miss Johnson, yeah?" The Sheriff inquired.

"Yes that's right." She responded, "Just Mary is fine sir."

"Mary. Alright."

The Sheriff leaned over the table, his hands clasped together, "So you were there when that young man was killed."

Mary nodded. Her lip began quivering. The Sheriff placed his hands flat on the table. His sharp face and burly mustache showed no emotion, but his tone was firm.

"What happened?"

Mary detailed the events of the night. "Well I was workin', and The Inspector was sayin' that I needed to stay late to work on my skills."

The Sheriff nodded.

"So I stayed, and he was showin' me how to..." Mary began shaking, her eyes welled up, "how to stop messing everything up."

"Take yer time." The Sheriff affirmed in a reassuring tone.

"And... it happened so fast..." Mary began sobbing as she spoke. "I didn't see 'em come in! I - I." She was choked by her own tears. Her head fell into her hands and her voice shook. "My God it was so loud!"

The Sheriff nodded, grabbing hold of the charcoal. "And what did this man look like?"

Mary sobbed for a moment. She sat back up and wiped her face. "Pardon me... I'm so sorry." She sniffed, "He had a red mask on... and some goggles." The Sheriff began scratching on the parchment paper. A crude figure was beginning to appear. "What else? He a white man, Spanish?"

"White..." She sniffed again. "And a brown, dirty hat... with black spots all over it."

The Sheriff continued to sketch. Mary continued to sob as he did so. Minutes passed before he flipped the parchment around and presented his work to Mary. "Somethin' like this?"

Mary looked up. Her eyes went wide. The drawing was crude, but it was clearly the killer. A ten-gallon hat atop a set of goggles, bandana concealing the rest of the face. "Yes, that's right."

The Sheriff took hold of the parchment. He dug the charcoal into the sheet and etched the words 'WANTED' across the head of his suspect. The charcoal snapped and shattered. The words looked like a demon scratched them into the poster. He pushed the poster away for a moment. "And why didn't he kill you?"

Mary collected herself. She looked up at the ceiling searching for the answer. "I have no clue..." She pondered, "I think it was personal..."

"Well you know The Inspector was takin' people's properties that weren't payin' the land tax." The Sheriff explained. "I got a gut feelin' that he was takin' someone's property and they didn't want him to."