CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“He’s still alive,” Nash said. “Pa, place your hand over the wound on Harrison’s chest to try and stop the bleeding,” Nash ordered Mac as he continued to sweep the area with the flashlight.
Mac placed his hands onto the wound and pressed down. The blood oozed between his fingers.
Nash slid the small flashlight onto the attachment slide on the bottom of the weapon. This freed up his other hand, allowing him to grab his phone from his pocket and press the contacts button. He pressed the number he had installed for the Sheriff’s Office.
After a few rings, Cheryl answered.
“Cheryl, it’s Ronin Nash, officer down at the old Mason place. Unfortunately, the sheriff has been shot,” Nash said before hanging up. He didn’t want to be rude, but he had no time for chit-chat eit
