She forgot her ringing ears and ran for the hallway door. He watched her run. There was no need to chase her.
“You can’t outrun a bullet, Beverly.”
Dominic got up from the bed and lurched down the hallway after his wife. He had a deadly coldness in his unsteady step. She was running toward the front door. He raised the chromed pistol and aimed at the back of her head.
As the hammer fell toward the brass cartridge, Beverly dove to her right, into the kitchen. The lump of lead tore into and through the wall into the kitchen. It passed two inches above her head, and dug its way into the refrigerator door.
She screamed, and from the tone, Dominic knew that he had missed.