Pulling out his gun, Shaffer stepped into the kitchen. He called for Jordan in a soft, mocking voice. “C’mon, kid, show your face…. Give me your best shot….”
Unable to stand, Leo crawled toward the front door. His head was spinning. He kept thinking, if only he could get outside and hide someplace in the woods. Maybe that was where Jordan was now. He heard the deputy’s footsteps on the basement stairs.
The front door squeaked as Leo tugged it open. On all fours, he crept out to the front stoop. He managed to get to his feet and stagger a few steps before he fell to the ground. He didn’t have any equilibrium. He started crawling again.
“Jordan?” he called in a hushed voice. No answer. Leo blinked a few times and tried to focus on the patrol car.
A shot rang out from within the house. “Little shit!” Shaffer bellowed.
Leo wasn’t sure if the deputy had been shot—or if he’d just gunned down Jordan. Maybe he’d merely been spooked and, in a panic, fired his weapon.
Struggling to his feet again, Leo managed to lurch to the patrol car. He opened the front door and flopped across the seat. He tried to figure out how to use the radio. Fiddling with the switches and buttons, he heard a muffled voice through the static. Leo wasn’t sure if he’d reached someone, but he pressed the button on the mike and whispered into it: “Is anybody there? Can anyone hear me? I’ve been assaulted by this deputy….” Leo paused and released the button. All he heard was static. He pressed the button on the mike again. “This deputy—his name’s Shaffer. He—he’s a murderer. He’s got a gun. I think he killed my friend, Jordan Prewitt. I’m at the Prewitt cabin in…in…in Cullen. Can you hear me? Please, send help….”
He released the button on the microphone and heard someone responding through the static, but the words were indistinguishable. Leo glanced back at the cabin and saw the deputy standing in the front doorway.
Panic-stricken, Leo looked around the patrol car for something he could use to defend himself. But there was nothing. He scurried out of the vehicle and left the car door open as he made a run for the woods bordering the driveway. He only made it a short way from the car before his legs stopped working and he stumbled again. He hit the gravel hard and got the wind knocked out of him.
Leo blinked and saw the deputy stomping toward him, his gun drawn.
Leo desperately crawled toward the forest, grabbing at thin tree branches, or stones—anything he could use to throw at the cop. He hurled whatever he could find at him, but kept missing.
The deputy descended on him. His swaggering stride only seemed more determined as he got closer.
Crawling toward the edge of the woods, Leo felt something stab his hand. He glanced at his bleeding palm— and then at a strange metal contraption that looked like the head of a rake.
“Where do you think you’re going, asshole?” he heard Shaffer ask.
Leo twisted around and gazed up at the cop. He shook his head. “No, please, wait….”
The deputy aimed his gun at Leo’s face. But then something in the woods caught Shaffer’s attention, and he glanced away for a moment.
Leo quickly grabbed the pronged metal contraption, pushed himself off the ground, and swung it at the deputy’s head. He knocked off his police cap.
He heard the gun go off, a resounding
Stunned, Deputy Shaffer stared down at him with his mouth open. The spiked metal piece stuck to his left temple. Blood leaked from the side of his blond head and down his neck. His eyes started to roll back.
Leo watched the deputy hit the ground with a thud.
After a moment, Leo’s vision started to blur again. He felt a horrible, searing pain in his side. The rest of his body felt so cold. He turned toward the woods—where the cop must have seen something earlier. Through the trees, he thought he saw someone.
Then everything went black.
She kept glancing at them in her rearview mirror.
Crammed in the back with Mattie’s child seat, Allen practically held Moira in his lap. One arm slung around her shoulder, he pulled her in close while pressing the ax blade to her throat. Tears glistened on Moira’s face, and every few moments, she let out a terrified whimper. She was shaking uncontrollably.
At one point, Susan had heard him say under his breath to the girl. “I heard you were pretty, Moira. But I didn’t know just how pretty until now.”
Moira said nothing. She just closed her eyes and grimaced.
Navigating the dirt road ahead, Susan remained quiet, too. The Toyota’s constant rattle did nothing to alleviate the tense silence inside the car.
As she merged onto Carroll Creek Road, Susan reached for her turn indicator, but then she realized it was on the car floor some place. The thin metal rod was hardly a match for the ax Allen wielded. But at least it was something. With a tight grip on the steering wheel, Susan glanced around the car floor for it. She started to feel gravel under the tires and looked up in time to see she was veering off the road.
Allen jabbed her shoulder. “Eyes on the road, goddamn it.”
She steered back into her lane, but still felt him hovering behind her. She glanced in the rearview mirror, and their eyes met.
“I look pretty beat up, don’t I?” he asked. “Do I look like I’ve been in a boating accident?”
Susan said nothing.
“Because that’s how it’s going to look for you, too, bitch,” he whispered. “And to think, I used to like you.” Then he sat back again and pulled Moira closer to him.
As they passed Jordan’s abandoned Honda Civic on the roadside, Susan glanced in the rearview mirror to see if Moira had noticed it, too. She saw the girl’s eyes widen. “That—that was Jordan’s car,” she murmured, baffled. “What—what’s happened?” She started to squirm—until Allen grabbed her by the hair again and snapped her head back.
“You’ll see him soon enough,” he growled.
Trembling, Moira didn’t say another word for the rest of the ride—not even when he pressed the side of his face against hers. His blood smeared her cheek. She didn’t try to move away. She just winced and sat very still.
Susan turned down Cedar Crest Way. Taking a curve in the tree-lined road, she spotted the police car in the driveway ahead. The driver’s door was open, and the interior light was on.
“Stop the car,” Allen said.
Susan stepped on the brake. Glancing at the floor again, she searched for the metal rod but couldn’t see it anywhere.
“Shut off the motor, and hand me the keys,” he commanded.
Wordlessly, she obeyed him.
“You get out first,” he said. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Susan took one last glance toward the front passenger side, but still didn’t spot the indicator handle. Reluctantly opening the door, she stepped outside. She couldn’t see the front of the house from where she stood. But as she took a few steps up the drive, Susan saw something else—and it made her stop dead.
Not far from the squad car’s open door, on the edge of the driveway, Deputy Shaffer was lying on his side. His police cap had been knocked off. The pronged contraption Susan had noticed earlier was now wedged between the side of Shaffer’s head and the gravel.
A hand over her heart, Susan took another step closer.
The police car’s interior light illuminated the pool of blood around Deputy Shaffer’s head—and the startled look in his open eyes. A fly landed on his cheek, grazed around for a moment, then flew away. Shaffer didn’t move.
She heard Allen and Moira behind her, climbing out of the car. Susan jumped at the sound of the car door slamming. She glanced over toward the cabin. The lights were off, but she could see the two young men on the front stoop. One of them was half sitting, slumped against the door. He had his arm around his friend’s prone body. With their faces in the shadows, Susan couldn’t tell which boy was sitting and which was lying there, but neither one of them was moving. It appeared as if the one boy had tried to pull his friend’s body into the house before he’d given up and died. Or was he breathing? Susan couldn’t tell. It looked like he had a gun in his hand. She stood there
