audible crunch and he let go of the Mossberg, falling back into the water.
For a second I expected Sean to turn the gun on him, to force him to surrender, but with a snarl he threw the weapon away behind him and went for Haines with his bare hands.
And that’s when I got really scared.
“Sean!” I yelled. “For Christ’s sake don’t do this.”
Sean turned his head and looked straight through me.
It was like staring at a man turned vampire and realising that although the face was familiar, the soul had been taken. That what was left was cold and empty and not quite human any more.
The sound of the second airboat was growing louder by the minute. A high-wattage searchlight beam flashed across Mason, making him wince and put up a hand to protect his eyes.
“Don’t move!” boomed a megaphone-enhanced voice. “This is the FBI!”
We were shielded from their approach by the hull of Mason’s boat so I ignored the instruction, lurching closer to Sean. He was holding Haines under the water now, forearms rigid with the effort of keeping him there as he thrashed and twisted. I couldn’t tell from the position of his hands if Sean was strangling the man or simply drowning him.
Either way, it was murder now.
I thought again of Haines calmly pulling the trigger on the woman in the theme park. I remembered the satisfaction in his voice when he’d admitted torturing and killing Henry. I could well imagine him standing behind Sean’s kneeling figure with the Smith & Wesson aimed at the back of his skull. And I could just see him smiling while he did it.
But it wasn’t Haines I was trying to protect.
“Sean,” I said again, more quietly now. “Don’t do this to yourself.”
For a moment he didn’t respond, then he relaxed his shoulders and brought his hands out of the water and I thought I’d got through to him.
But as he did so I realised that Haines had ceased to struggle. He bobbed to the surface and floated lifeless between us, eyes and mouth wide. The swamp water lapped gently into his open throat.
“Sorry Charlie,” Sean said tightly. He sounded weary, but there wasn’t a hint of regret in his voice. “You’re too late.”
And I couldn’t find it in myself to be sorry, either.
We both turned, just as the new airboat arrived with a flourish alongside Mason’s stricken craft. The wash nearly swept the pair of us off our feet.
Half a dozen black-clad figures with machine pistols jumped from one boat to the other, their boots clattering loudly on the aluminium. They had flashlights attached to their guns and a number pointed them at Mason but he didn’t put up any resistance. In the crossed beams I could now see that one arm of his chair was slick with blood and he could hardly even raise both hands. They had to help him down.
Other hands reached over the side towards us.
“Wait,” I said. “We’ve a man injured here.”
Sean cast me a quick glance but I waded back over to Whitmarsh and between us we managed to get him close enough to the airboat for them to grab him and haul him in like a loaded trawler net. He was unconscious and bleeding but they started work on him right away with the urgency to suggest they thought he might survive.
Lonnie and Keith came staggering out of the trees then, still carrying their makeshift clubs. The FBI men were jumpy enough to insist they jettisoned the branches before they’d take them into the boat.
I waited until they’d got Trey out of the water before I accepted help. It was only then, when everyone else was on board, that Sean pushed Haines’s body close enough to be retrieved.
I thought he was being practical, logical, and then it struck me that he’d just been making sure there was no chance of them being able to revive him.
And all the time, around us in the shadows I could hear the rapid movement of the alligators, driven to a frenzy of distraction by the blood in the water. The sudden fear of what might have been bloomed and spread through my imagination faster than I could keep pace with it. And I’d always thought that rats were my biggest phobia.
The reaction started to crowd in then, setting up a trembling in my hands that I had little control over. I sat slumped in the bottom of the airboat, not caring that there were still suspicious guns held over me.
“Well, I guess you’re kinda ready to give yourself up now, missy?” said a voice over the top of me.
I raised my head enough to see Special Agent in Charge Till standing above me. His hands were on his hips.
“Not yet,” I said, with last-ditch bravado I didn’t really feel. “There’s still Brown.”
He nodded. “We’re working on that,” he said. His gaze shifted to Sean, eyeing him warily. “So you must be Meyer. Well, I have to say that for a dead guy you’re looking pretty healthy.”
Sean didn’t reply to that. He sat alongside me with his forearms resting on his knees and his hands hanging relaxed. The two of them stared at each other but maybe they were too similar in nature to ever be comfortable in such close proximity.
“Don’t tell me – you just happened to be in the neighbourhood,” I said.
Till tore his gaze away from Sean with difficulty. “We found your tape, missy,” he said. “Got the whole thing. Recording’s a little fuzzy maybe but the lab boys reckon they can clean it up some and it’ll go down a storm at the trial.”
“You can thank your Uncle Walt for that,” I said.
“Thank him yourself,” Till said, jerking his head over his shoulder.
I followed his gaze and saw that it was Walt who was driving the second airboat. The old man gave me a nod and sketched a casual salute.
“You brought your uncle on a trip like this?” I said blankly.
Till shrugged, a little embarrassed. “We found him staking out the front gate when we got here,” he admitted, “and we needed someone who could handle an airboat.”
I looked at Walt. “I told you I’d find my own way back,” I said.
He shrugged. “I had nothing else doing.”
Till ran his eye across the other faces his men had pulled out of the swamp and paused when he came to Keith.
“Although I have your confession on record, Mr Pelzner,” he said with a touch of that grim humour, “I’m kinda assuming that you didn’t actually murder your wife.”
Keith opened his mouth a few times, floundering. “Um, I?”
Till smiled. “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “I kinda understand that you were under duress at the time.”
“So, like, where is she?” Trey demanded. “What happened to her?”
Keith’s shoulders bowed even further. “She really did leave, Trey,” he said mournfully. I knew he was trying to be gentle about it but it came across as self-pity instead. “She just upped and left the both of us. The divorce papers arrived from Nowheresville, Ohio. She didn’t even ask for custody.”
Trey looked down at his hands, clasped in front of him, and bit his lip. I scowled at Keith. If he’d had anything about him he’d have left out that last little piece of information, given the boy something he could still cling to.
Keith twisted and put his hand on Trey’s shoulder, gave it a pat. “I’m real sorry, son,” he said. “I know how much she meant to you, but it’s just you and me now.”
Trey looked up at him, tears forming in his eyes, and just for a second I thought he was going to fold.
“You gotta be joking,” he snapped, lip curling as he ducked out from under his father’s hand. “You were gonna sell me out. I’d rather end up in Juvenile Hall than stay with you, you bastard.”
His bottom lip began to quiver. He turned his filling eyes on me. “Why can’t I stay with Charlie?”
I put my hands up. “Whoa,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended. “That is
“Well I’m not staying with him and you can’t make me!” Trey said, a little wildly now, but his face was obstinate. There’d be no shifting him on this one.
Till looked uncomfortable at this display of teenage angst. “Well, I guess we can call in Child Services until we get this one sorted out,” he said, his voice dubious.
Trey’s lip quivered all the more. I felt like I’d just shot Bambi’s mother.
