“Look at the way they’re moving,” Sheriff Moody said, pointing. “That smallest one ain’t even holding his gun right. Thing would knock him on his ass.”
“You think they’re amateurs?”
“I wouldn’t say they’re professionals.”
“Then where did they get the grenade?”
“I know little more than you do.” Moody continued to scan forward in time, getting used to switching from screen to screen until he had a direct view of the parking lot, where a black van with tinted windows sat with its side to the casino’s front door.
“Swell, we got a license plate,” Reynolds said, scribbling the information into the pad from his breast pocket. “Should I put out an APB?”
“Not just yet.” Moody studied the monitor, its black-and-white footage difficult to follow with his aged eyes. “I want to see which direction these fellas are headed.” The video went on, showing the three men climb into the van with a hostage. A part-timer, Ricky had told him, who had two other jobs and was only in the building for a short shift.
“You reckon she’s dead, Sheriff?”
“I don’t reckon so. Not yet anyway.” With that, Moody stood and placed the hat back on his head, pulling it down for a better fit. “Well, what are you standing around for? They only got a half-hour on us, so let’s hit the road and see if we can’t catch up to them.”
Reynolds placed a hand on his gun as if to check it was still there and ducked out of the room with admirable eagerness.
“Time to get to work,” Moody mumbled before following his deputy.
Chapter Six
Deputy Reynolds was in the passenger seat, clutching the car’s radio. He had protested doing this with only the two of them, but Sheriff Moody was insistent.
“Maybe just one extra squad car, Sheriff?”
Moody shook his head, focused on the road. “We do that, we’ll be leaving the town exposed to trouble. Besides, we catch these fellas before they cross the state line, they’re ours. I want to get ’em while they’re still in our jurisdiction.”
“What if we need the backup?”
“We might. But until we know what we’re up against, it’s just the two of us.”
Reynolds sighed. “I think I know what this is about.”
“What you complaining about now?”
“This sudden heroism… It’s because of what I said earlier, isn’t it? About you being lazy? I didn’t mean it, Sheriff. Not really.”
“Then why’d you say it?” the sheriff asked, staring at the empty road as he drove. The window was cracked and letting air in, but it was still blisteringly hot.
“Just to criticize someone, I guess.”
There was an uncomfortable silence in the car until Sheriff Moody spoke. “It don’t matter all that much. That ain’t why I’m chasing these sumbitches.”
“It’s not?” Reynolds sat up straight. “Then why?”
“Because it’s my job. Yours, too, in case you forgot.”
The car sped over a dip in the road, causing a painful bump. Reynolds had to hold his hat down to keep it from coming off. “I just reckon we ought to have some help, is all.”
“Well, never say never. Just hold your horses, all right?”
“Yeah.” Deputy Reynolds sulked for a moment. “Where do you suppose they’re headed, anyway? Straight down to Mexico?”
Sheriff Moody grunted. “Son, there are two things I give a damn about, and one of them ain’t where they go after they cross the state line.”
“What then?”
“I care about that woman’s safety. Getting her out of there alive is our top priority.” The sheriff had recognized the woman’s face from the security footage. A year or so ago, he had helped tow her car to the local garage for a fix. She was sweet and polite, if he remembered rightly, and sure as hell didn’t deserve to be kidnapped.
“What else?”
“What?”
“You said you give a damn about two things. If one of them is the woman, what’s the other thing?” Deputy Reynolds leaned forward and turned the window crank, holding down his oversized hat and letting blasts of air into the hot car.
“Whether or not I still have to put up with your whining after all this.” Moody did his best version of a smile, only the corner of his thick lip exposing teeth.
A few hours and even more miles later, when the sun was easing its way below the horizon and darkness approached, they spotted a sign indicating a nearby rest stop. Moody could see the stop on the horizon, and the red taillights signaling its presence like the Devil’s eyes glaring at them.
“Reckon we should talk to these people? See if they’ve seen anyone suspicious?” Reynolds asked, rubbing his eyes with balled fists.
“It can’t hurt,” the sheriff said, trying to sound calm. He didn’t want Reynolds to know he had a bad feeling about this. It was as far out of town as he had ever come while on duty, and he wondered just how dangerous the three men could be. Why they’d had a hand grenade was beyond him, but it proved they were willing to cause some damage.
For Moody, that was enough.
Chapter Seven
They were all sitting in the back of the van, Clive holding his gun and refusing to point it at anything other than Brenda. Although he’d never admit it, this gave Charlie the creeps—he knew these types of people; they always tried to run, and they were always gunned down. Always.
“Are you all right?” Charlie whispered to her, sensing her unease. He didn’t like to think of himself as anything like his brothers. Sure, he had come along for the robbery, but it was only to pay a debt. He’d never asked to take any hostages, and he sure as hell didn’t plan on killing anybody.
“I’m fine,” said Brenda, probably assuming that he was just another thug.
“Get away from her,” Clive demanded. “Go keep an eye out.”
Charlie huffed and climbed out of the van. Jack had gone into the store about five minutes ago after filling the tank with gas for the second time during this journey. They’d bought the van in Cutthroat County, expecting one tank of gas to take them far away from this hellhole. He hadn’t anticipated the need to stop.
Charlie slammed the door and walked toward the road, pulling the matted T-shirt from his sweaty chest.
“Sure is hot,” he said to himself, looking up and down the vacant road.
Only it wasn’t vacant. In the distance, about two minutes away, a sheriff’s car was racing toward them. Hazy, hot evening air blurred it, but it was unmistakably the law.
Charlie wasn’t sure what to do. He had never been great at thinking on his feet, and his instincts told him to run. Perhaps it was by sheer reflex that the direction he ran in was toward the store, where Jack was taking his time to stock up on food.
“Jack!” he called, bursting through the door while the bell gave a little ding.
Jack looked over at him from the counter. It seemed as though he sensed the urgency in his brother’s voice. “What is it?”
“The law.”
Jack dropped what he was holding—some potato chips and sugary treats—and drew his firearm. Ignoring the store clerk’s alarmed look, they stormed outside together, where the sheriff’s car was just pulling up.
“Put your gun away,” Charlie told him, considering discretion.
“No way. They know it’s us. Why else would they be here?” Jack stomped back toward the van, firing the gun at the car. One bullet hit the hood with a metallic clang.
The sheriff stopped, both he and the deputy opening their doors and cowering behind them for cover. One of them fired a shot and then was shouted at by the other.
“Stop,” the voice demanded. “You’ll blow the tanks.”
Charlie was just beginning to think that luck was on their side when he felt a cool shiver ricochet through his body. He looked down, and that was when he noticed the blood pooling from the side of his stomach. It came as a shock that he could feel nothing at all.
“Get over
here!” Jack had already got into the van and was holding the door for Charlie. He probably hadn’t noticed the gunshot.
With his head spinning and the strength leaving his body, Charlie stumbled forward and climbed into the van. He wasn’t sure if he had closed the door himself. Everything was blurry at this point, and he felt lightheaded. As consciousness fled, he could hear his brother curse and then stomp heavily on the gas pedal.
Chapter Eight
They had finally found the van, but its tires spun so fast that white clouds of smoke chugged behind it. With a violent bump and a sharp turn, they were back on the road.
“Did you see the woman?” Deputy Reynolds asked, closing the door and climbing in beside the sheriff. He was barely in before they were speeding after the vehicle.
“No. Did you?”
“No.”
“Well then, we can’t shoot.” Sheriff Moody drove hard, something he had become accustomed to doing throughout his years. The people of Cutthroat County had dared to say he was lazy, despite that they’d known about his past before he’d become sheriff. After all, he’d been elected for his position. Then again, he was more ambitious during his career as a young cop in Ohio. Right until he’d decided on a fresh start in a new state, that was. It had all been downhill from there.
Deputy Reynolds leaned out of his window as they zoomed after the van. Before he even heard the gunshot, the side-view mirror exploded into hundreds of glassy shards and was carried behind the car by the wind in a trail of sparkles. “Shots fired!”
“Ya don’t say.” The sheriff pulled to the left as the back door of the van swung open. He caught a brief glimpse inside: the woman, it looked like, sat rocking next to a burly gunman. “Well, what are you waiting for? Time to get on the radio.”
“Yes, sir.” Reynolds reached for the handset and called to dispatch. “Deputy Reynolds here, requesting backup on the south road out of town.”
“Please state your badge number,” the woman snapped through the speaker.
“Lois, don’t play stupid games. Just send the damn cars.” Reynolds shook his head.
After a pause, the woman—Lois—demanded more. “How many would you like?”
Reynolds looked to the sheriff, who nodded. “Both of them, and make sure their guns are loaded. This could get ugly.”
Chapter Nine
When Deputy Reynolds drew the gun from his hip holster, the sheriff had to say something.
“Now just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He pulled on the wheel, swerving away as a shotgun blast hit the hood of the car.
“Shooting at ’em, of course!”
“I said don’t.” Sheriff Moody pulled alongside the speeding van. Everything inside him wanted him to swerve into it, sending it veering off the road, but his logic and compassion were stronger than his instinct. “You might hit her.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
“You got any better ideas, Sheriff?” Finally, Reynolds brought his gun arm back inside the car and looked over at him. “I didn’t think so.”
Sheriff Moody was running out of options. How far were they from the state line now? A mile? Two? And with backup a good distance behind them, even a shootout may not be entirely advisable. “How about the tires?”
“You want me to shoot ’em out?”
No matter what, he could not let them out of his jurisdiction. What would the people of Cutthroat County think of him then? “Do it.”
It was almost instantaneous, like all of today’s events had been pulling on a string, and then this one finally snapped it. Reynolds aimed his gun at the tires and then squeezed the trigger. The rubber exploded and the van swerved out of control, then slid off the road and down a dusty driveway, the rubber slapping the rocks with each spin.
“The barn,” Sheriff Moody shouted, driving carefully behind them. Thankfully, driving well had always come naturally to him.
“What barn?”
Moody pointed.
“Ah.”
The van slowed to a stop. It had barely lost its momentum before the gunman leapt out of the back, firing more shotgun rounds at them. Moody kept his head down, knowing better than to face off against a pump-action. When the deafening blasts stopped, he peeked over the top of the dashboard to see another man dragging their hostage into the barn.
“Don’t you move!” Deputy Reynolds yelled, getting out of the car and kneeling behind the door. His gun was pointed through the open window, but there was nobody to shoot. The barn’s door had closed, and the criminals were all locked away inside.
“What do we do, Sheriff?”
“We wait.” Sheriff Moody looked up at the sky. Dusk was fast approaching and backup should be there before long, he hoped, and then everything would be okay.
Still, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that it was going to be a long night.
Chapter Ten
Jack put the bolt across the door and turned to look at the barn. It was gloomy inside, the only light given by a couple of old oil lamps, but at least there were bales of hay to let Charlie rest on. He went to his brother and helped Clive to lay him down. “You okay, pal?”
Charlie’s hands were covered in blood. He looked up with an expression that read: Please, you have to help me. But it wasn’t at him. Instead, he was looking at the woman. The hostage. Words failed Charlie completely.
“I can help,” the woman said, fidgeting nervously with her fingers.
“What?” Jack patted Charlie’s knee and stood.
“I’m a nurse.”
“You’re a fucking blackjack dealer,” Clive protested, aiming his gun at her.
“Put it down, Clive.” Jack marched toward the woman. “You ain’t lying to me?”
“No. I work nights at the county hospital. The casino is a part-time gig for some extra cash. You know, send my kids to college and all that.”
Jack assessed her. On one hand, he thought she might genuinely want to help. Then again, his paranoia insisted it was a trick—that when she had Charlie’s life in her hands, she would have something to bargain with. “Fine. You sit down. I need a word with my brother.”
Jack took Clive to a dark area at the back of the barn while the woman sat next to Charlie in the hay. Clive put his arm on a beam and leaned into it, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve.
“I don’t think she’s a nurse,” Clive said.
“What?” Jack screwed up his face. “Why?”
“It’s a trick.”
“For what it’s worth, I don’t like it either. But the nearest hospital is back in town, and I’m not going back.”
“We can shoot the cops, Jack. It won’t be that hard.”
Jack shook his head, grinding his teeth. “I’m not about to start killing cops, for God’s sake. Those two are out there, backup is probably on its way—”
“Which is why we need to take ’em out fast.” Clive pushed himself away from the beam and moved to an open space. “Before we’re surrounded and they decide to breach.”
“We ain’t doing that.”
“Oh, come on.”
Jack rubbed the back of his neck, realizing how tense he was. “No. Look, we’re gonna have to trust her. If things get out of hand, we’ll strike a deal with the cops. Then when he’s safe we can go out with all guns blazing.”
Finally, Clive nodded.
Jack walked back over to the woman. “Remind me of your name.”
“B-Brenda.”
“Okay, Brenda, we need you to help our brother. You do whatever you have to do to keep his heart pumping. But believe me when I say that if he dies, you’ll be close behind. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Brenda nodded, removed her jacket and knelt to tend to the gunshot wound.
Jack stood watching her. With the police outside and the sound of more sirens growing louder by the second, he had very little time left to pray that he’d made the right choice.
Chapter Eleven
Sheriff Moody could see the lights in the distance—his backup finally arriving. But whatever was above those lights was not from his station. He squinted at the darkness of the night and could just about make out the shape of the helicopter.
“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Deputy Reynolds shouted above the sound of the incoming propeller blades as they whirled around like fans.
“Beats me.”
They watched as the chopper came in to land, spraying dust and dirt out from the ground and into their faces. As soon as it landed, the door opened and three suited men climbed out and marched their way.
“Sheriff Moody?” The man leading the charge was older, well-presented in his suit. Clearly in great shape, too, for a man of his age. His graying sideburns put him at around fifty, and the crow’s-feet around his eyes added another five years or so.
“Who the hell are you?” The sheriff looked around, realizing that only a small number of the arriving cars were from his own department. The rest were black, smart… governmental.
“Special Agent Jonas Bryce from the FBI. Are the gunmen still in the barn?” Bryce flipped out his badge and ID for only a moment, then pointed in the direction of the barn.
“The barn? Yeah, I—”
“Good. Thank you, Sheriff. You’ve done a fine job pinning them down. You can leave now, and we’ll take it from here.” He began to walk away but was stopped by the forceful grip on his arm.
“Just a minute there.” Sheriff Moody glanced at his deputy, who was open-mouthed with surprise. Bryce also seemed to have been caught off guard and was probably used to having people obey his every command. That didn’t stop Moody. “Whatever you think you’re doing is wrong. I had a grenade go off outside my office because of these boys, and I ain’t going to just let you waltz in here like you own the place.”
Cutthroat County Page 2
