The last months of pounding nails, sanding drywall, pounding more nails, sanding trim, and sanding even more drywall had provided an unexpected benefit of building my strength and endurance to a new level. I’d suspected this when the bike rides hadn’t made me sore for a week, was pretty sure when the long-distance crawl hadn’t bothered me a bit, and now that I was holding a rock in my hand while a killer was about to shoot my friend, I was absolutely certain of what I could do.

With all my strength and all my might, I hurled the rock to the far corner of the yard. It hit the fence with a sharp thump!

Drew stepped toward the noise, and that was all I needed. Fast and sure, I threw myself forward, head down, no need for silence any longer.

Five steps to go, three, don’t let him turn yet, faster, faster, faster—

He heard me behind him and started to move, but it was too late. I ran straight into his midsection with all my speed and weight.

“Oooff!”

Drew, completely unprepared for the Minnie Missile, staggered sideways and dropped the rifle.

“Got it,” Keith said, scooping up the gun. “Nice job, Minnie.” He took a firm stance and pointed the rifle’s business end at the man who’d been about to kill him. “Now, what shall we do with this guy?” His voice was low and menacing, sounding more like a truck driver who’d just had all his tires slashed than a popular math teacher. “Shoot him now and it would be self-defense, don’t you think?”

“Hey,” Drew said weakly. “I didn’t mean it. This was all just . . . just a joke. Really.”

Keith took a step closer to him, raising the rifle’s sights to his eye, taking aim. “Say one more word and—”

“And how about I take this?” I laid my hands on Keith’s arm. “You go inside and call nine-one-one. Okay?”

Keith’s muscles tightened under my touch, then relaxed. “You’re right,” he said, letting out a huge breath. “Cover him, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He handed me the rifle and ran into the house.

Drew started to get up. “Cover me?” he asked, laughing. “You’re not even five foot tall! How is a little thing like you going to keep me from walking away?”

Barely even looking at the weapon in my hands, I pointed it into the air and fired. “The next shot,” I said calmly, “will go into your leg.”

“You . . . you wouldn’t.”

I lowered the rifle and pointed the barrel at his knee. “Try me. Now, get back on the ground.”

He hesitated.

Then kneeled.

I blew out a huge internal sigh of relief, because I truly hadn’t been sure whether or not I’d have been able to fire a bullet into a human, no matter how despicable he was.