“Look, I don’t know what any of you are involved in,” Issie said, “but as a member of Newpointe’s protective services I’m obligated to tell what I know.”
“You don’t know anything,” Jake said.
“I do know some things,” she said, her voice low. “I know what I’ve seen, and I’m going to tell it. I know that after I saw that bloody carpet, I had someone break into my apartment last night and put a dead cat on my bed. I know that I’ve had my wall written on and my tires slashed. I know that your friend was stabbed tonight.”
“So what are you going to do?” Jake asked.
“I’m going to go to the police,” she said, “and I’m telling you this, Jake, because I don’t think it’s too late for you to get out of here. I suggest you surgically remove yourself from this group of friends and make sure that you never become a part of this cancer again. Maybe if you go with me to the police, tell them what you know, this will have a better ending than it looks like it’s going to have now.”
He swallowed hard. “Issie, don’t do it.”
“I have to do it,” she said. “It would be stupid of me to just sit here and keep my mouth shut, knowing that tomorrow another church might burn down and another kid might be found dead. And I’ll be called to the scene and I’ll have to try to save his life. Have you ever tried to do that, Jake? Have you ever tried to keep somebody alive who’s slipping away, knowing that somebody in your family might have had something to do with killing them?”
“I had nothing to do with that,” Jake bit out. “You have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s a sickening feeling,” she said. “It makes you vomit. It makes your head ache, and it fills you with so much guilt that you don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have any reason to feel guilty,” he said.
“Tell me about it. But you do. And you and I are related and I love you and I don’t want to see you follow the path that these guys are following.”
“Issie, I’m telling you. Don’t go to the police. It’s not a smart thing to do.”
“Well, since you have such bad judgment about what’s smart and what’s not, I think I’ll follow my own.”
She left the room with Jake following behind, and they cut through ten disciples in the living room. Cruz seemed to be giving a lecture to the rest who were there. He had relaxed now and was sitting on his stool, and the group was laughing at something he’d said—oblivious to Benton on the floor in the back room. They got quiet as she came in. “If he doesn’t take that kid to the hospital, then don’t any of you believe that he cares about you,” she said. “You could be next, hurt however Benton was and left to suffer.”
Cruz got to his feet, his stance suggesting that she had crossed the line.
Issie bolted out of the house, and Jake followed her. “Issie! Issie!” She got into her car and slammed the door hard. She turned the key and flipped on her lights. Her nephew stood in the circle of headlights, and she could see the confusion and fear on his face. She wished there was some way she could talk him into coming with her, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Something about that brother and sister was pulling him back toward the group.
She started backing out slowly, hoping he would run after her and get in the car with her, go and tell the police everything he knew, but he just stood there. Tears came to her eyes as she put the car in drive and set out down the road.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cruz came out of the house and watched her car pull out of the driveway. “What was that all about?” he demanded.
“She just got upset,” Jake said.
Jennifer came out with some of the others behind her. “Where is she going?”
Jake felt sick. He didn’t know if he should tell them what she’d threatened to do. If he did, they would chase her down, and there was no telling what they might do. But if he didn’t, they would all go down. “She’s just upset because of the fire tonight. She tried to save the kid, but he died. She’s a little suspicious.”
“Did you tell her about my being in police custody when it happened? Did you tell her you and all the rest were at the Viper Pit?”
“Yeah, I told her.”
“So what did she say? Where is she going?”
“I don’t know.”
Cruz stood there for a moment, just staring at him, then suddenly, he launched forward and grabbed Jake by the throat. “Where is she going?” he bit out.
Jake grabbed Cruz’s wrist and tried to disengage it. “I don’t know.”
“She’s going to the police, isn’t she?”
“No!” he lied. “No!”
That grip on his throat tightened, and Jennifer stepped forward. “Cruz, stop it. Let him go!”
Cruz didn’t. His thumb and forefinger cut into the skin of his neck, and Jake thought he would pass out.
“Let him go, Cruz!” she shouted. “Cruz, do it! Let him go!”
Finally, Cruz loosened his grip, and Jake fell on the gravel driveway. “I’m going after her,” Cruz said.
Jennifer headed for their car. “I’m coming with you.”
Jake watched from the ground as they got into their car and screeched out after Issie.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Issie hadn’t gone five miles when she saw the headlights behind her. The car was moving up too close, right on her bumper, and she did what she always did to make it back off. She tapped her brakes and slowed, hoping the car would either pass her or slow down, but it stayed locked on her bumper. Someone was pursuing her, she realized.
Fear rushed through her and she slammed her foot down on the accelerator and jolted forward, but the car was right with her, not allowing her to get away. She made the next turn onto a street just as desolate as the one she’d been on, and looked for a public place where she could pull over and cry for help.
She reached for her cell phone, tried to dial the number for the police station, but it fell out of her hand and onto the floor. She bent down to grope for it, but couldn’t feel it. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw that the car was coming up beside her. It was a red Camry, but she couldn’t see who was inside.
A gunshot exploded the window next to her head, whistled past her ear, and shattered her windshield. She swerved and felt her wheels leave the road and sink into the dirt. Her car tilted, and the wheels skidded into the grass. Her headlights flashed a sequence of bushes and branches, tall grass and wildflower. Then a telephone pole loomed in front of her. She screamed and tried to avoid it, but her hands seemed frozen on the steering wheel, and her foot on the brake pedal made no difference in the skid. Metal crashed and glass shattered as she hit and fell forward, jamming her knee into something and crushing her sternum into the wheel. Her seat belt cut a diagonal line across her from shoulder to hip.
She sat there, dazed for a moment as her mind slowly cleared. She saw the car make a U-turn and start back for her. She reached clumsily into her glove compartment, felt for her gun. Her fingers closed over the metal.
Cruz made a U-turn and stood on the accelerator. “The gun,” he shouted. “Give me the gun!”
Jennifer thrust it at him.
He slowed as he reached Issie’s smoking car and rolled down his window. He aimed his pistol and fired. The bullet went through her shattered window and burst through the passenger side.
He slid into a U-turn again, and thrust the gun at Jennifer. “She’s on your side. Don’t miss.”
He slowed, allowing Jennifer the chance to aim.
But before she pulled the trigger, a bullet whistled past his head. He cursed. “She’s got a gun!”
Another bullet shot through their back windows, and he punched the accelerator again.
“Get out of here!” Jennifer cried.
“No, we have to go back. We can’t leave her alive!”
“But she’s shooting at us!”
“Not for long! Give me the gun!”
She handed it to him and du
cked as they skidded past the wrecked car again. Issie fired before Cruz could aim the gun.
Jennifer jerked, and blood hit the dashboard. Cruz almost ran off the road. “Jen!” he yelled. “Jen!”
Another bullet whizzed past, and Cruz dropped the gun and reached for his sister.
She looked up at him, her forehead covered with blood. “Get out of here, Cruz! Please don’t go back!”
He didn’t need any more incentive than that to make him speed away from the scene.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Issie clutched the gun in a tight-knuckled fist, trembling as she waited for the car to come back. Her heart pummeled out a deadly rhythm.
She only had two bullets left, and she knew they had no intention of leaving her there alive. Keeping her eyes on the road, she groped for her cell phone on the floor and finally found it.
Then quickly, she stumbled out of the car, slamming the door behind her. Pain shot through her chest, and her knee threatened not to support her.
She limped down the grassy embankment and into the trees skirting the road.
She prayed that the phone would pick up a signal. Quickly she dialed 911.
Simone, the dispatcher, came on. “Nine-one-one. May I help you?”
“Simone, this is Issie,” she said, breathless. “I’m on Meadow Road out in that wooded area. Car’s wrecked. They’ve been shooting at me…”
“Who has?”
“Cruz somebody. Send police, Simone. They’ll come back.” She knew she wasn’t making sense. “Please hurry!”
“Issie, are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. Just…please…It was a red Camry and they’re still in the area.”
“We’ll get somebody right out,” Simone said. “What’s your cell phone number?”
Issie spouted it off, then clicked the phone off and dropped down behind a tree. There was no sound of a car coming and she wondered if they were just waiting, trying to make her sweat, giving her a chance to get good and scared before they came back around again. She kept the pistol up, waiting to use it.
She had never felt more tragically alone. There wasn’t anyone in the world she could lean on, except perhaps her brother, and Jake’s part in this confused things. Overcome with despair, she began to cry. She pulled her good knee up to her chest and dropped her face on it. There was no loneliness like that of sitting in a black night by yourself, knowing that any minute wheels could screech and bullets could fly. And there wasn’t really anyone who cared.
Her car sat just yards away, still smoking from the accident that wasn’t an accident. She might die before the police came. With only two bullets left, she might not be able to defend herself. The need for human contact overwhelmed her, and her mind drifted back to the fire earlier tonight, when she’d wrestled with the dead boy to make him live, and Nick Foster had held her and whispered in her ear. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.
She dialed information, got Nick Foster’s phone number. It was one-thirty in the morning, and she knew she would wake him.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?” It came out too loud, as if he’d been startled awake.
“Nick, this is Issie.”
“Issie.” He sounded surprised.
“I’m so scared!”
“What is it?”
“Nick, somebody just tried to kill me,” she said in a wobbling, high-pitched voice, “and they ran me off the road and I hit a telephone pole. I’m sitting on Meadow Road waiting for the police to get here, but I’m afraid they’re going to come back and—”
“Issie, where on Meadow Road are you?”
She heard a siren in the distance. “About halfway down the wooded block.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Will I be able to see your car from the street?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I’m not in it. I got out and I’m sitting off the road. Hiding in the trees. I only have two bullets left, and I know they’re coming back.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said.
She clicked the phone off and wondered what was taking the police so long. She wondered if anyone was chasing down the car, and if her nephew had been in it. She wished she could jog back to the Benton house and see who was still there. She wondered if she had shot anyone.
For the second time that day, she found herself praying.
Cruz took the back roads on the outskirts of Newpointe and cut down a dirt road near his grandfather’s deer camp. When he knew he was hidden, he stopped the car and groped for his flashlight.
“Jen, let me see.”
“I’m okay.” Blood rolled down her face and into her eyes. She smeared it away.
“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital!” He put the car in reverse and tried to turn around.
“No, wait. I don’t think I was shot. I think it’s glass.”
He stopped the car again and shone the flashlight more carefully on her face. “It is. It’s not a bullet, Jen. It’s glass from the window.” He shoved his fingers through her hair to hold the back of her head still, and picked a fragment out of her forehead. “Man, the blood…” He pulled his shirt off, wadded it up, and pressed it against her wound. “You still may need to go. I’ll take you, Jen, if you need a doctor.”
“No,” she said. “We’ve got to hide. She’ll send the police after us. Just drive. I’ll be fine.”
He drove down the dirt road, then over the old swinging bridge near the place where he and Jen grew up. He threaded down the road until it came out near his grandfather’s house.
“We’ll go home,” he said. “Mama can patch you up and make you good as new.”
“I’m gonna scar up like a freak,” she said.
“At least you’re alive. That could just as well have been a bullet as glass. I never shoulda let you come with me.”
“We’re in this together, Cruz. I hate being left out. You know I do.” She pulled down the visor mirror and shone the flashlight on her forehead. “The bleeding’s stopped. Maybe the cut’s not so bad. Maybe I won’t have a Frankenstein scar. Should we tell Mama about the killin’s and all?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Only don’t tell her it was revenge against that preacher. Let her think we were takin’ up the cause.”
“Ethnic cleansing, we’ll tell her,” Jen said. “She’ll be proud of us. Mama always did get into the fight. It made her feel all patriotic.”
“I’m not through with that preacher yet. Won’t be through till he’s as dead as them other two. And Jake’s aunt with him.”
“We’ve got to do somethin’ about the car, Cruz. She’ll describe it. And the shot-out window won’t help matters any.”
“I’ll drop you home, then I’ll take care of the car. Remember that old stable on the edge of Grandpa’s land? I’ll hide it there till we can get the window fixed and change the color.”
Jen actually smiled, filling him with relief. “I knew you’d have a plan, Cruz. You always take care of everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Issie didn’t emerge from her hiding place until two squad cars had stopped and R.J. Albright and Anthony Martin had stepped into the circle of light created by the street lamp. Then, on shaky legs, she’d limped back up to her car.
She had finished filling them in about her chase and the gunfire, when Nick screeched up to the curb. She didn’t know why the sight of him drew her to tears again.
He was still limping and moving carefully, and those bandages on his legs reminded her how serious his own injuries had been. She felt guilty for getting him out tonight.
“Issie, are you all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “Nick, I may have shot somebody…I’m not sure…but they were shooting at me…”
His arms came around her and pulled her against him, and she pressed her wet face against his chest. His hand cupped and stroked the back of her head. “Anybody looking for the car?” he asked over her head.
“We put
an APB out, but no one’s found it yet,” Anthony said.
“They will,” Nick assured against her ear. “They’ll find them.”
“I want to get out of here,” she said. “Please, can Nick take me to the police station? I want to talk to Stan. I have…information…” The words filled her with terror, as if a spray of bullets would come from nowhere to shut her up. “Before I lose my nerve, I have to stop them. That’s why they were trying to stop me.”
“You can give us that information,” R.J. said. “Right here, right now.”
“No. Not right out in the open. Please. I want to talk to Stan. It’s about the church fires and the killings. I know who did it, R.J. Stan will want to talk to me.”
“We’ll have to wait for backup,” Anthony said. “There’s some strange things happenin’ in this town, and if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, I don’t want to be caught in the middle of ’em.”
“Both of you stay, and I’ll take her in,” Nick said.
R.J. shrugged. “Reckon that’d be okay, since you’re practically one of us. I’ll notify Stan you’re comin’ so he can meet you there.”
Nick released her, and she felt that cloak of security jerked away. He ushered her to his car, helped her buckle in, then went to his side.
“Nick, I appreciate you coming,” she said. “I don’t even know why I called you. Of all people, you’re injured yourself and don’t need to be rescuing damsels in distress.”
“I like rescuing damsels,” he said. “I’m glad you called.”
She looked out the window, her eyes searching the streets for a red Camry that might come from nowhere and start shooting again.
“Issie, what’s going on? What do you know?”
“I know who did the church burnings and committed the two murders. I think it was my nephew’s friends.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. It’s exactly who you thought. That Cruz kid and his sister. Last night, right after your church burned down, I went to this house where they hang out, and I found them burning a carpet with bloodstains in a bonfire.”