The call Myles received came from dispatch. Nadine Archer said she had Trudie Jenson on the phone, which meant he was hearing from Trudie for the second time in as many days. But this call wasn’t because she had Ink or Lloyd in her store. This was because Trudie’s Grocery was the first open business one reached when approaching town from the east and Brett Hamerschlit had stopped there to get help. According to Nadine, he had Janet Rogers in his Suburban.
When Myles heard what Trudie passed along to the dispatcher, it felt like someone had wrapped barbed wire around his heart. It hurt just to breathe. “What’d you say?”
Nadine repeated herself, slowly and distinctly, but her earlier rush of words had nothing to do with why he hadn’t been able to understand her. He’d quit listening after hearing the name
Fortunately, he’d already been headed in that direction. Allen had called a couple of hours ago to report seeing a white pickup turn down a dirt road about a mile or so from his house. Myles wouldn’t have thought much of it. He’d been following up on calls from various citizens who’d spotted white pickups all evening. But there was the coincidence of Ned Green dropping Ink and Lloyd off in that general area. So once he’d exhausted any leads he’d considered more promising, he’d decided to have a look. Although there’d been no reports from up the mountain, he’d begun to wonder if Ink and Lloyd might’ve broken into an empty cabin and simply holed up there. They certainly weren’t in town. He’d searched everywhere.
“Where is Marley?” he asked.
“Home with Alexis. So is Elizabeth. Janet drove a four-wheeler to the road and flagged down Brett. He brought her into town. They need you up there, Sheriff. There’s a dead man in the backyard and the place has been shot up. Everyone’s rattled.”
“But Marley’s okay, right?” He needed to hear that part again. “Elizabeth and Marley—all of them—they’re fine?”
“Everyone’s fine, except the dead man.”
Yes, she’d mentioned a body. “Who is it?”
“They don’t know. Janet says he came out of nowhere to save them, and a tattooed guy, obviously the guy in the flyer you put out, must’ve shot him when he tried to get away.”
Myles asked a few more questions, but Nadine said Trudie couldn’t get any more out of Janet, who was crying and babbling hysterically. It was a miracle Brett, Trudie and Nadine had been able to piece together as much of the story as they had.
“I’m halfway there already,” he said, and almost disconnected.
Nadine stopped him. “Hang on. Trudie’s saying something. Sounds like Janet thinks Claire’s in trouble.”
That cold wave of terror he’d felt a moment before returned. He’d barely had time to let Marley’s safety sink in. Now he had to worry about Claire?
No, not Claire.
Claire was screaming. The sound scraped Vivian’s spine like nails on a chalkboard because she didn’t know what it meant. Had Claire been hit? Or was she just scared half to death?
She’d acted so casual all afternoon, as if she wasn’t even worried. She probably couldn’t imagine anything like this really happening, despite Vivian’s insistence that it could.
The truck that’d come barreling up to the house had stopped in the middle of the natural landscape and cobblestone path that was Claire’s front yard. The
Vivian was crawling on the wooden floorboards of the porch, trying to get to Claire, so she couldn’t see his face. Only his feet, clad in a pair of cheap tennis shoes, showed from underneath. But she didn’t need to see the rest to know who he was. He’d found her. At last. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—and the moment that’d haunted her nightmares—for the past four years.
The dust and dirt kicked up by his tires when he skidded to a halt combined with the truck’s exhaust to clog her nostrils. Coughing, she gasped for clean air as she grabbed hold of Claire.
Fortunately, Claire was finished screaming. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she kept saying as if she didn’t quite believe it herself.
“I’ve got you.” Vivian had her gun, too, and planned to use it, but she couldn’t get off a good shot. She wanted to drag her friend into the house before Ink was upon them. She wouldn’t put it past him to shoot Claire just because she was vulnerable. The only reason he’d missed with the first couple of shots was that the bullets had to go through his windshield. Now he was out of the truck, and the windshield wouldn’t be there to deflect the next one.
“Hi, honey, I’m home!” he called.
Fearing she might not have a better chance, Vivian knocked over the chairs they’d been sitting on so she and Claire had the benefit of a barrier and fired before he could. The blast deafened her, but she knew instantly that she hadn’t hit him. She’d seen the spark of the bullet as it struck the hood of the truck.
“Is this any kind of welcome from the girl I’ve been dreaming about since we met?” He added a taunting laugh to that question, but he didn’t fire back and he didn’t advance. He was crouching behind the truck, using it for cover. She figured he wouldn’t have walked into the clear the first time if he’d expected her to be armed.
What was he hoping to do? Get her to waste all her bullets before he used his?
“Claire? Are you okay? What’s going on?” The voice came from farther down the lane. Leanne, Claire’s crippled sister, had heard the truck, the shots and screams, and was coming to investigate. Moonlight bounced off the metal of her wheelchair as she rolled toward them.
“Go back!” Vivian shouted. “Go inside and lock your doors! Now!”
Leanne must’ve recognized the urgency of the situation because she immediately reversed. But Ink wasn’t about to let her go. No doubt he knew she’d call the cops. He fired in her direction, missed, then jumped into his truck to chase her down.
Or run her over…
“Oh, God!” Claire jumped up as if there was something she could do. But Vivian pushed her aside. She couldn’t have Claire getting in the way. Her gun was their only hope of stopping him.
“Call Myles!” she yelled, and ran after Ink herself, firing at the back window in hopes of hitting him.
The window cracked and splintered. Even in the dark, she could make out the holes she’d made. A web of lines connected them. But she ran out of bullets before she could bring him to a stop, and she didn’t have another clip. Virgil hadn’t even given her one. They’d always imagined a close encounter, the chance to fire once or twice at most, had never dreamed she’d use so much ammunition.
There was a huge crash, then the grating of metal on rock as Ink plowed into what was left of the concrete restrooms. Leanne had managed to reach one of the openings before he could run her down, but he had her blocked in.
When he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he abandoned the truck, keeping her barricaded there, and started back.
That was when Vivian got her first real look at his face.
He hadn’t changed much. One leg appeared to be shorter than the other, or his spine had been fused, because he had an awkward gait. A grimace revealed what it cost him to move so fast. But his tattoos were as grotesque as ever, both in their abundance and the macabre nature of the designs he’d chosen.
And his eyes were still as devoid of human emotion as a snake’s…?.
He didn’t seem afraid that she’d use her gun. Obviously he knew how many bullets a typical handgun could hold and had already guessed she was out.
Hoping he couldn’t see her well enough to shoot her, she ducked behind any tree or shrub she could find. As she made her way back to the house, she was surprised he didn’t even attempt to fire at her. Was he saving his bullets? Or did he have other plans?
Claire was already inside. Hopefully she’d managed to get hold of Myles or someone else who’d be able to help. Now that Ink was the only one who had a gun, they wouldn’t survive for long.
“Leanne’s okay. She’s fine,” she assured her friend as she hurried into the house. She didn’t know how much of a chance they had, but she promised herself and God that she wasn’t going down without one heck of a fight. Her children were in New York. She planned on seeing them again. And there was no way she’d let Virgil’s sacrifice be
