Chapter 6: The End of Sam Easton

(3)

Most people thought Sam would run. He had no ties left—parents gone, wife divorced, daughter dead, and only a disabled sister in a care facility. He was a ghost in town.

Back then, you could disappear with a fake ID and a bus ticket. Even the cops relaxed a bit.

Then, a teacher called in—a solid tip. Sam had been spotted near a middle school. That was enough to get the sirens blaring again.

(4)

I’ll never forget that day. Cloudy, drizzling. I’d just bought a book at Maple Heights Books and a glass bottle of chocolate milk at the corner shop—back then, you had to return the bottles.

Before I even opened it, I noticed a commotion near the school. A crowd gathering, voices rising. I wandered closer, curious.

Suddenly, a gunshot split the air—sharp and loud. The whole street froze. Sparrows took off, and people started screaming.

Someone shouted: “The police shot the murderer!”

I squeezed into the crowd. A cop comforted a crying kid. Another officer held a gun, still aimed at a man lying in a pool of blood. It was Sam Easton. His eyes were open, staring at all of us.

I stood frozen. My chocolate milk fell and shattered, brown liquid mixing with rain and blood on the sidewalk. For a second, the world tilted, and the gray sky pressed down on all of us.