“That’s it.” David pointed to a green awning, about a hundred yards away. They’d parked as close as they dared and now crept through the heavy trees lining the lakeshore. “I wish I had binoculars.”
“I wish I had a gun,” Tom muttered. “What’s our plan?”
“I don’t know,” David whispered back. “Yet. Just hurry.” They ran as noiselessly as possible. And then David’s heart stopped. No. Please, no.
They were at the edge of the cabin’s backyard. There was a sliding glass patio door in the rear wall. A few feet from the glass door was the back of a sofa. And behind that sofa lay his mother on her side, tied to a chair.
He heard the swift intake of Tom’s breath. “Is she moving?”
“I can’t see. Stay here, I’ll get closer. If anything happens, you run.”
“Where are the police?” Tom hissed, grabbing his arm.
“I don’t know. Maybe they’re coming without sirens. Trust me.”
He came up on the house from the side, his feet light. Crouching low, he moved along the back of the cabin, peering in the glass door, and relief hit him like an iron fist.
His mother was shifting her feet. She was bound at the ankles, her arms wrapped around the chair and tied at the wrists. There was no blood. No injuries he could see. He could cut her free in under ten seconds.
Except that Mary was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. The gun was on the counter next to her. Mary might be a lousy shot, but if she saw the glass door slide open, she might shoot, get lucky, and actually hit one of them.
He motioned to Tom who followed the path he’d taken, hunkering down next to him. “She’s okay,” David whispered. “Mary still has a gun. We need a diversion.”
“We need a damn gun,” Tom muttered.
“Well, we don’t have one,” David snapped quietly. “I want you to go to the front and find the biggest whatever you can find. Rock, tree branch, anything you can heft. Throw it through that kitchen window and run like hell. If you hit Mary, great. If not, she’ll be startled enough by the glass breaking that I can get through that door and get Mom out.”
“And if she’s not startled, or goes after you?”
“I’ll get Mom out.”
“And get shot.”
“Not if you hit Mary with the damn rock. You’re the hoops star. Pretend like it’s a throw from the three-point line.”
“It’s a stupid plan. You’re going to get yourself killed.”
David twisted to stare him down. “You got a better one?”
Tom gritted his teeth. “No.” He started to move, then David grabbed his arm.
“Wait. Someone’s coming.”
Tom’s sigh was relieved. “The cops. With guns.” He started to move again.
“Wait. It’s not a cop car.” The engine sound was wrong. “It’s got a bad plug.”
“What?”
“It’s got a bad spark plug,” David said between his teeth. “Wait.”
“We need to get her out of there,” Tom insisted.
“You move now, you might get her killed. Wait. Trust me.” He didn’t breathe, just stood there waiting, dreading what would come next. His instincts were right.
He could hear the cabin’s front door burst open, a shrill scream, and the voice that had often asked him how many creams for his coffee.
“Hey, sis,” Kirby said. “Miss me?”
Next to him, Tom’s eyes narrowed angrily. “Now what?” he mouthed.
He stood there grinning at Mary’s slack-jawed shock at seeing him, especially the gun in his hand. Her eyes flicked to the puny gun on the counter and he chuckled. “Don’t even think about it.”
“How…?” Mary stared. “How did you know?”
“What, that you were here? Mary Fran. I figured you hadn’t picked the condo at random.” He looked around. “The place hasn’t changed much since Mom and Dad brought us here. I bet you had Joel thinking it was all his idea. Savin’ the wetlands.”
Realization dawned in her eyes. “You. You were there. You videotaped us. You made us do the other fires. You blackmailed us.”
“I did.” He nodded smugly. “I totally did. I have to admit I wondered what game you were playing—until I heard about the glass ball. Nice touch. Brought the old man down out of reservation lands. Got his hopes up for the big kill. Kudos.”
Her chin lifted. “I wanted him to think he’d finally gotten his great white whale.”
“For thirty seconds he might have, but the balls were different. Even Crawford was smart enough to see a copycat.”
She shook her head. “No. I had details nobody else knew. Crawford thinks it’s Moss’s people. He thinks he has someone who can lead him to Moss, but he can’t.”
“Really?” He had to admit he was now intrigued. “How did you find these details?”
“I e-mailed the webmaster of Moss’s Web site. Flattered him, told him that I loved Moss, too. We met in person and he trusted me. Told me things I used to set Crawford up, to bring him to me. I wanted to make Crawford think his dream was in reach.”
E-mail… She merely updated her old tricks with new technology. “And then?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I know where Moss is. I would have made him beg, like Mom begged. Then I would have killed him.”
“Well, you can die knowing that I did it for you.” He aimed his gun, watched the remaining color drain from her face. “You set me up ten years ago. Today you pay.”
She took a step back. “I didn’t mean to, Jonathan. I never meant it to happen.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. Because you never think past the end of your goddamn nose. Where’s the old lady? The hostage you took. Hunter, right? I bet she’s related to that pretty firefighter who caught your glass ball. Where did you stash her? In the closet?”
She shook her head. “I killed her already. Left her body in her car.”
“That was stupid. She could have been your ticket to France.” He laughed at that. “Eric was an idiot. Did you kill him, or was it Albert?”
“No,” she said faintly, her eyes on the gun in his hand. “I killed them all.”
“Even Joel? I’d given that one to Albert.”
She closed her eyes, her throat working as she swallowed hard. “Joel was losing it. He was going to tell. I gave him the first pill, just to calm him down.”
“But when he woke up, he’d still be hysterical. He couldn’t live with that girl’s face in the window. So you decided to make it easier for everyone. Or for yourself. I have to give it to you. You’ve never changed.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said desperately. “I was only thirteen. I froze.”
“In the closet, with the cordless phone in your hand. If I’d known you were going to play that game, I would have called 911 myself. But I gave you the phone….” His jaw tightened as the memory came back, as clear as if it had happened this morning instead of ten years ago. “And I tried to fight an ex-con with a big grudge and a bigger bat.” He stepped closer to her. “An ex-con you brought there.”
She shook her head. “No. He wanted revenge against Crawford. It was supposed to have been Crawford who died. Not Mom. Never Mom.”
“But Crawford wasn’t home, ’cuz he was off chasin’ Moss, and the mean ex-con wasn’t choosy, was he?” he asked bitterly. “I got to watch him beat Mom’s head in and then I enjoyed a little of his revenge. Put me in the hospital for a month.”
“I know,” she gritted from behind clenched teeth.
“Ah, because you were there. Listening. In the closet. Did you hear him call for you? I did. He called your name again and again. He knew your name.” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Did you really think no one would find out, Mary Fran?”
She took an unsteady step back. “You knew?”
“Oh yeah. I knew. After I got out of the hospital, they told me they’d caught the bad ex-con. That they’d thrown away the key and he’d never get out of prison. But I kept remembering how
he’d called your name. I thought I’d dreamed it but knew I hadn’t. So I visited him and I asked him how he knew you. Why he called for you.”
“He told you about the letters,” she murmured.
“He did. What did you think would happen when you wrote letters to men in prison saying how you hated your stepdaddy as much as they did and if they ever wanted your help to kill him, you’d be happy to oblige? Why did you do it?”
“Because I was thirteen and I thought they’d never get out!” she cried. She sank to the floor, sobbing. “I thought they’d never get out of jail, and if they did, they’d come after Crawford. He was the one who put them there. Not me. It wasn’t my fault.”
“No, it never is, is it? It’s never your fault.”
David watched, horrified, as Kirby rounded the kitchen counter, his gun aimed at Mary’s head. Thought about how coolly Kirby had shot Crawford in front of a police station. There was no doubt that Mary would be next. He glanced at his mother, still tied to the chair. Kirby didn’t yet know she was there, but they couldn’t take the chance that he’d find out. Once the gun was pointed at his mother’s head, it would be too late.
Kirby wouldn’t let any witnesses live.
He looked at his empty hands, wishing like hell he had a weapon. Any weapon. But all he had was a stupid penknife. I need a gun. Why the hell didn’t I get a gun?
But he didn’t have one and he couldn’t change that now. He made himself shut out the fear and focus on a way to get his mother free. He could hear Kirby’s car out front, still running, and a plan formed in his mind. He leaned over to whisper in his nephew’s ear. “Tom, this is what I want you to do. Don’t argue, just trust me. Can you do that?”
Tom nodded shakily. “Yes.”
He looked down at his sister in disgust. “What set you off? After all these years, what made you want to draw Crawford out?”
She looked up, her eyes wild like an animal’s. “He came to visit me. On the tenth anniversary. He gave me money. He said he wanted to make amends. Amends. There were no amends for what he did. If he’d been there, he could have saved her.”
He had to blink at her. “You’re really fucking nuts, aren’t you? You brought a dangerous criminal to the house and you blamed Crawford? Almost makes me feel sorry for the prick. Except that he didn’t believe me when I tried to tell him about you.”
Her eyes widened. “You told him?”
“Oh yeah. But he didn’t listen. You were so distraught. How could I make up such lies? And you looked like Mom. He couldn’t believe you’d be so… bad.”
“You told him?” she repeated, stunned.
“Are you deaf on top of crazy? Yes. I told him, but he called me a liar. He couldn’t look at me because I did what he should have been there to do. I tried to save her while you cowered in the closet.” He aimed at her head. “If you’d just left well enough alone, nothing needed to change. But you had to leave that damn ball. Buh-bye, Mary Fran.”
• • •
“David’s still not answering,” Olivia said, her cell phone clenched in her hand as she watched the lake cabins flash by. Not much farther…
“They’re playing cowboy,” Noah muttered.
“She’s his mother. When Eve was in danger, you were quite the cowboy, too.”
“That was different. I had a gun. David and Tom don’t.”
A fact of which she was very aware. “David can handle himself,” she said and prayed it was true. She studied the screen of her camera, trying to match the aerial image of the lake she’d taken from the bucket with the actual layout on the ground. They were close. There was a cabin another few minutes away that could be the one.
She saw the cabin up ahead, her eyes widening as a shirtless figure crept around the side of the cabin to the front. “That’s Tom.” He was getting in a sedan idling in the driveway. “What the hell is he doing?” she demanded and Noah’s jaw clenched.
“Don’t know.” Then a shot split the air and Noah punched the gas, their car going momentarily airborne.
With Tom behind the wheel, the old sedan screeched in reverse, then, driver’s door wide open, he gunned the engine, aiming for the house. The car lurched forward and Tom leapt free, rolling on the lawn, coming to his feet as lithely as a dancer. He took off running around the back as Noah brought their car to a blistering stop.
Olivia jumped out and followed Tom to the back, her gun drawn.
David stared in horror as Kirby pulled the trigger and Mary went down. And then, a second later, the house shook on its foundation. Move. Heart pounding, penknife clutched in his fist and Tom’s shirt over his head, David crashed through the glass door shoulder-first. Landing in a shower of glass, he threw Tom’s shirt to the side as his mother stared up at him, stunned.
“Are you okay?” he whispered fiercely, his heart settling a fraction when she nodded. She closed her eyes, tears seeping from her eyelids as he sliced through her bonds, picked her up and shoved her through the shattered back door.
To where Tom waited to carry her away. Good boy. Tom had followed his instruction to the last detail. Get out. David sprung toward the hole in the glass, when a body hurled over the back of the sofa and a hand grabbed his collar, yanking him back, the two of them falling in the broken glass.
“Sonofabitch.” The epithet was thundered in a rage, followed by the cold bite of steel against the back of his head. “Get up, Hunter. Hands where I can see them. You want me, now you’ve got me. Toss your gun.”
David rose, conscious of each passing second. His mother and Tom had slipped away, unseen. Don’t stop running until you’re safe. “I don’t have a gun.”
Kirby’s arm came around his neck, his forearm threatening to crush his throat, bending him backward as he awkwardly patted David down. “You really don’t. What the hell kind of hero are you anyway, charging me without a gun?”
David reached for Kirby’s arm, but Kirby jabbed the gun barrel against his head, hard. “I said keep your hands where I can see them.”
David couldn’t breathe. “The cops are coming,” he rasped and Kirby laughed.
“Nice try. They’re not coming because they’re all waiting for me downtown. They think I’m stupid. They think I can’t smell a setup.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” David grated out. He leaned back an inch, freeing his windpipe enough to draw a decent breath. Kirby was taller than he’d seemed standing behind the counter. Stronger too. I underestimated him. Never looked at him. He made me uncomfortable, so I never really looked at him.
“Their little ruse, their text from Austin. ‘Help. I’m scared. Meet me,’” Kirby mocked.
The trick Olivia had up her sleeve. It obviously had not worked as planned. “How do you know it’s a ruse? Last I heard, they hadn’t caught the kid. He’s wily.”
“Because they got my place surrounded. Fucking cops everywhere.”
“There are always cops in your place. You sell coffee and doughnuts.”
“Funny guy. You won’t be laughing in a min—Fuck.” Kirby viciously kicked at the overturned chair. “What the fucking hell is this?”
David didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. Kirby hadn’t known his mother was there. For some reason that God only knew, Mary had lied, told Kirby she’d killed his mother already. By now Tom should have his mother halfway to the car. He’d made the boy promise to keep moving. Even if I don’t follow. He needed to buy his family more time.
“Goddammit,” Kirby hissed. “She lied, the bitch. She didn’t kill the old lady. Where is she?” He shoved the gun harder into David’s skull. “Where the hell is she?”
David tried to stay calm. Tried to buy another few minutes to give Tom time to get his mother to safety. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Goddammit, there’s rope on the floor. Walk, Hunter.” He shoved David forward, over the threshold of the shattered glass door, onto the patio. “Old lady Hunter!” he bellowed. “Come back or your son dies. I will shoot him. I h
ave nothing to lose. You do.”
No, Ma. Don’t do it. David prayed Tom had her out of earshot. Fat chance, not with his mother’s hearing. She’d come. Tom would follow and then all three of them would die. Dammit, Olivia, where the hell are you? He held his breath, listening for any sign that his mother was coming back, but there was nothing. Thank you.
“Fine,” Kirby muttered. “They can’t have gotten far. You’re done, Hunter.”
He’s going to shoot me. Then he’d go after them, the people he loved. Not while I still breathe. I’ll take him with me. David’s stomach roiled. He wasn’t nearly as zen with the prospect as he’d always expected he’d be. I walk into fire, ready to die every day. But this was different. There was no rush. No adrenaline. Just fear and dread, heavy in his gut. It wouldn’t, however, change the outcome.
Now. Take him down now. He shifted to the balls of his feet, then shoved backward as hard as he could, twisting to the side, grabbing Kirby’s wrist as they fell. David’s head hit the patio hard, and the world spun, but he had Kirby’s wrist in a lock and the gun pointed away from them.
With a howl of rage, Kirby grabbed his collar with his free hand and slammed David’s head onto the concrete again. Pain crashed through his skull, but he held Kirby’s wrist. They rolled, fighting for the gun. David pinned him to the concrete, but Kirby’s finger was curled around the trigger and it was all David could do to keep the barrel pointed away.
Sucking in a breath, David’s head cleared and so did his view of Kirby’s face. Fury exploded and he ploughed his fist into Kirby’s face with all the force he could summon, but Kirby countered, twisting his collar until his knuckles dug into David’s throat.
Can’t breathe. He twisted, but Kirby tightened his hold. Can’t breathe. White lights twinkled before his eyes as, one-handed, he yanked at the knuckles cutting off his air, but Kirby held. Both hands. He needed both hands. He’ll shoot. I’ll die. No. Not today. Relax the throat. It worked, allowing him a shallow breath through his nose.
And he smelled her. Honeysuckle. She’s here. In his mind he could see her, ready, aiming, unable to get a clear shot as they fought. Let go of the gun. Move. Abruptly he released Kirby’s wrist, throwing himself to the side. Kirby rolled with him, his fist still twisted in his collar and from the corner of his eye he could see the gun arc around… pointing at me. He stared at the barrel, every muscle clenched.