Careful not to make any more noise than was absolutely necessary, in case Ink was on his way back for whatever reason, L.J. slipped around to the driver’s side and opened the door. Sure enough, the keys dangled from the ignition. He could jump in and head for town. Get help. These past two weeks would finally come to an end.
He was about to do just that, but hesitated. With a twenty-minute drive, any help he brought would be pretty damn long in coming. By the time the police arrived, Ink could be done here and well on his way to Canada or somewhere else in the family’s Esplanade, if it was still parked out front.
Unless he was crazy enough to go after Laurel again…
Did he let his old cellie do whatever he was going to do? Or did he try to stop him?
Ink was so dangerous, L.J. preferred to escape unnoticed. But if
Deciding to check out the situation to see what was going on, he left the truck and crept around the side of the house, looking in every window that wasn’t covered by a blind.
Most of the rooms were dark and empty. Maybe Ink had already boosted the Esplanade. If so, L.J. could get out of here. But when he came around the house, he realized that wasn’t the case. Probably because they had no close neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Rogers weren’t too cautious about lowering their blinds. They were raised as high as ever on the front windows, plenty high enough for L.J. to see that Ink had two younger girls, the bikini chick and her mother in the living room and was brandishing that damn gun.
Where was the dad?
Maybe he’d already been killed.
Or he wasn’t home in the first place.
L.J. hated Ink, wanted to help the Rogers family. But he didn’t have a weapon. The best he could do was use the bat he’d seen in the garage the last time they were here. His left shoulder was hurt, not his right. Still…did he have the strength to swing it?
“That’s crazy, man. A bat against a gun?” he whispered to himself. He started to turn away, to head back to the truck. But then he saw Ink grab the dark-haired girl by the hair and yank her up against him. The bastard was going to kill her.
Almost without thinking, L.J. picked up a rock from amid the plants at his feet and threw it at the window. He heard the shattering of glass as he ran for the cover of the garage. Then a gunshot rang out. Where that bullet had gone, he had no idea. Maybe Ink had killed the girl. Or maybe he’d shot in the direction of the rock.
The bat was where he’d seen it. He grabbed it and waited, hoping Ink would charge out of the house and head to the Esplanade so he could rush him from behind. But that didn’t happen. Nothing happened. Until several more shots rang out.
“Son of a bitch.” Had he killed them, anyway?
Now that he’d committed himself he was actually eager to fight. He’d wanted to stop Ink when Ink had attacked that real-estate guy. He’d wanted to step in when Ink had shot those four men walking into the cabin. He’d even wanted to keep Ink from going to Laurel’s house last night. He’d had no stake in coming to Pineview, no reason to kill innocent people. It was time he put a stop to his old cellie for good.
Wishing the bat didn’t feel quite so heavy, he lifted it over his right shoulder and peered around the corner. The front window had been shattered; he’d expected that. But as he crept closer, using the darkness and the trees for cover, he saw that the living room was empty. If Ink had killed this family, they were lying somewhere else. And if he hadn’t killed them, L.J. had done all he could.
Tossing the bat aside, he gave up searching for Ink and began to run for the truck.
But he didn’t make it. Another gunshot ripped through the night, pain flared in his head, then he landed on the ground, face-first.
L.J. had thrown that rock? Ink couldn’t believe it. That was gratitude for you. He should’ve let him die instead of removing that damn bullet.
His former cellie was dead now. Ink had shot him twice just to be sure, but it brought little satisfaction. There was no repairing the damage the bastard had done. When he’d thrown that rock at the window, Ink had thought a S.W.A.T. team was coming after him. He’d turned and fired, but then Mrs. Rogers had hit him with a lamp and just about knocked him senseless. By the time he could think straight, everyone was gone—they’d scattered all over the house or run to the same room. He hadn’t bothered to look. He’d fired a few shots in frustration, just to scare the shit out of them, and hurried out to catch L.J. before he could do anything else.
Now it was no use trying to chase them down. For all he knew, Mrs. Rogers had come up with her husband’s hunting rifle or some other firearm and would shoot him if he tried to go back inside. It was best to disable the remaining vehicles and leave. Hopefully, by the time they found help, he’d be finished with Laurel and well on his way to Canada.
She was the one he wanted, anyway. The only one who mattered here in Pineview. And, if Mrs. Rogers had given him adequate directions, he had a good chance of finding her.
The doctors were taking forever with Virgil. Vivian had spoken to Rex two more times, but he had nothing new to report. An hour ago, the nurse had said Rex was asleep in the lobby and had refused to wake him. “He looks like death warmed over, that one. I suggest you let him sleep.”
Apparently the nurse could tell he was going through withdrawal. Earlier he’d complained that she didn’t like him, that she had a bad attitude about letting him use the phone, but he must’ve won her over. Vivian could hear it in the woman’s voice—and had to smile regardless of her concern for Virgil. Not many women could remain immune to Rex’s charm. If she hadn’t met Myles, if Myles wasn’t exactly what she needed and wanted in a man, she feared she’d fall right back into the same old situation with Rex. As it was, she was happy with what she’d found, hopeful that she and Myles might be able to build the kind of life she’d always dreamed of.
She was equally hopeful that Rex could stay clean and find the happiness he deserved.
“Keep a close eye on him,” she’d told the nurse. “He might need some medical help himself.”
“My thoughts exactly,” came the reply. The woman told her Virgil was still in surgery, and that was it—all she’d learned after waiting the entire day.
“Can it really take this long?” she complained to Claire. They were sitting on Claire’s small porch, drinking herbal tea and watching the moths dance around the porch light, the stars overhead brighter than ever. Excited as she was by what was happening between her and Myles, it would’ve been a perfect night.
Except for the agonizing worry.
Myles had called once and claimed his leg wasn’t even bothering him, but Vivian knew that couldn’t be true. From what he’d said on the phone, he was no closer to finding Ink than when they’d separated at the motel, but he refused to give up. She had no idea how long it’d be before he came to get her, but she was looking forward to another night at the motel.
“I can’t believe you’re with the sheriff now. I
“Yeah, well, don’t jinx it,” she teased.
“I think you make a perfect couple.”
“You’ve been telling me that for a while.” Vivian had enjoyed discussing Myles, but the worry lurking underneath all the chitchat was starting to get to her. “Do you think I should call the hospital again?”
Claire pulled her gaze away from her sister’s house, which was set back even farther than hers. It was just the two of them on this little lane. Most of the homes in the surrounding area were impoverished—this was the poor side of town, farther from the lake—but both their houses were unique and more artsy than ghetto. They were right next to the old city park. That park wasn’t used anymore but it was a pretty piece of land, except for the ugly cement restrooms. “Does it matter what I say?”
“What does that mean?” Vivian asked.
“I think Rex will contact you when it’s over. But that isn’t what you want to hear.”
“Because I can’t rely on it. Maybe the nurse doesn’t want to wake him. Or she went off duty and the new nurse isn’t even aware of what’s going on.”
Claire reached out to squeeze her hand. “Go call. It might ease your mind.”
Vivian had just slipped inside and picked up the phone when she heard the roar of an engine revved way too high, followed by the sound of squealing brakes. This was a dirt road that dead-ended into the old park; there was no need to be traveling at such speed. She was about to duck her head out to see what was going on when the
