The ceiling fan whirred feebly, emitting a grating groan as it struggled to turn. Pushing open the door, Heather's gaze fell upon the figure behind the counter.,For a moment, Jack's father was touched by his own kindness. Wiping away a tear, he reached under the cupboard and pulled out half a bottle of whiskey. He took a big swig.,The menacing muzzle of the gun pointed straight at Jack's red, bloated nose. The old man immediately raised his hands in surrender.。