by Jen Blood
Diggs didn’t say anything. When we were safely out of shotgun range, Monty pulled over. He turned in his seat so he could look at Diggs and me.
“What do you want to do?” he asked. I waited for Diggs to weigh in.
“You heard Jed—there were other people who probably wanted my father dead,” he said. “Who’s to say any of this has to do with J. at all? And even if it does, we don’t know they’re going to make a move on Mike tonight. With four months to go, it’s just as likely they’d spread out the carnage a little.”
“I never like to be the voice of reason,” Monty said, “but did you see that guy just now? That’s a man already on the verge—he’s got Kamikaze eyes. Something’s going on. And I don’t think it’s gonna wait four months.”
“So what if we take Erin’s suggestion,” Carl said, “and call the police?”
Diggs and I looked at each other, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. “You call the police in now, and what might be nothing definitely turns into something. Tonight,” he said.
“Do you know his girlfriend?” I asked Diggs.
“Eddie Stoocher,” he said. “Tweaker—maybe more hardcore than Mike. She won’t be the voice of reason in this, I can promise you that.”
No one said anything for a stretch, time closing in on us.
“Perhaps our smartest move right now is to go back to the island,” Carl said. “We can discuss this in safety there.”
I set my jaw. Diggs looked like he knew what was coming.
“No,” he said before I could even tell him my plan.
“Just hear me out,” I said.
“No,” he repeated.
“No, what?” Monty asked.
“No, we’re not going back to the Reynolds’ place,” Diggs said. “Absolutely, positively—”
“I’ve spent the past year thinking about all the kids who died in this,” I said. “Back in Kentucky. Out on Raven’s Ledge. All the J. ops we couldn’t do a damn thing about while we were hiding out on the other side of the world…”
“None of which were your fault,” he said.
“That song’s starting to get awfully old, you know it?” I said. “Let’s just go over there and keep an eye out. Just for a while, and make sure everything’s copasetic.”
“And if it’s not?” Diggs said.
“Then, we could call the police,” Carl suggested.
“Exactly,” I said. “If it looks like something’s about to get hinky, we make an anonymous call to Sheriff Finnegan.”
“And what do you think Reynolds will do, the second he sees the cops headed his way?” Diggs said. I didn’t answer. “You saw how close to the edge he was yesterday, and it looks like he’s crept even closer tonight. We’ve got four months before this thing is supposed to unfold. You really want to push him over now?”
“All I’m saying is, we keep watch. If you don’t want to, I’ll do it alone. I’m sick of sitting by and letting shit like this happen.”
Diggs’ jaw tightened. He scratched his neck, which is one of those tics he gets when he’s trying not to strangle me.
Monty looked back over his shoulder at us. His gaze landed only briefly on me before he settled on Diggs.
“What do you want to do?”
Diggs frowned. Thought. Scratched his neck again.
And sighed.
“All right,” he said. “Fine. We keep an eye out.”
Four hours later, we were still keeping an eye out. It was one a.m., and pitch black. Carl was asleep. Monty was reading. Diggs had dropped into a deep, impenetrable silence. The only light coming from any of the trailers was from a TV in the trailer farthest to the right—the one it appeared Reynolds and his family lived in.
Diggs sat up suddenly.
“Okay,” I said. “So—you’re right. Nothing’s happening.”
“Ssh—hang on,” he said. He peered out the van window into the darkness. I joined him.
“What are we looking at?” I asked.
“Just a second. I thought I saw something.” A few seconds passed.
And a few more.
Nothing.
“What’s the verdict?” Monty said from the front. “Because I’ve gotta tell you, this isn’t the most fun I’ve ever had in this van. I’m ready to head back.”
“Give it five more minutes,” Diggs said. “I’m going to take a walk around.”
“You’re what?” I said.
“I’ll be fine.”
How many times had we said that in the past two years? I just raised my eyebrows at him. Shook my head.
“Either I’m coming or one of the guys is,” I said. “But you’re not going alone.”
“Fine,” he said. “Monty, you up for a moonlit stroll?”
“Not the company I’d choose, but I guess I could do worse,” Monty said.
“What do you want us to do?” Carl asked. Despite having been dead asleep no more than two minutes ago, he sounded fully awake now.
“Just wait here,” Diggs said. “We’ll call in the sheriff if we see anything.”
“Be careful,” I said.
He nodded. A gust of cold air swept into the van when he opened the door. He and Monty slipped into the night.
Carl and I remained in the van in silence. I’m not good at being left behind—I never have been. But I forced myself to stay where I was this time, a splinter of dread needling under my skin. I watched every indecipherable shadow in the darkness for what felt like an hour.
We were parked in the trees, off the Reynolds property but within view of the trailers. The compound was surrounded by forest on three sides. We were off to the left.
Then, just off to the right, I thought I saw a flash of light—either a flashlight or something metallic catching the moonlight.
“Did you see that?” I whispered to Carl.
“Could have been Diggs or Monty,” he said.
Except they’d taken off in the other direction.
I saw the flash again; definitely not a flashlight. Something metallic. A signal? I was still following the movement, pulse up now, when the door to the van opened. I swallowed a completely girlie scream, but may have whimpered instead.
“Someone’s out there,” Diggs and I said at the same time.
He didn’t even smile, his body tensed. “Something’s definitely happening—someone was out by the bunker.”
“Did they see you?” I asked.
“I don’t think so. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really see them, either.”
“Now do we call the police?” Carl asked.
“Make the call,” Diggs said grimly. “But tell them if they do come out here, to be careful. They know Reynolds, without a doubt—they should already have an idea what they’re walking into.”
I saw the same flash of light once more, this time closer to the trailer. Carl was already on the phone with 911. I pointed the flash out to Diggs.
“We should go back there,” I said. “If something’s about to happen, maybe we can just get the kids out.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” Diggs asked. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
Meanwhile, Carl was trying to report suspicious activity at the Reynolds place without actually giving them reason to send in the cavalry. So far, he just sounded nuts.
“We talked to Aidan,” I argued with Diggs. “He’ll come with us. I’m telling you, I can get them to follow us out.” He wasn’t buying it. I shook my head, aware of the seconds ticking past. “Forget it, we’re wasting time. Let’s just go.”
At just shy of two a.m., Diggs and I circled around to the trailer where all the activity seemed to be centered, at the far right of the compound. We waited, crouched in the darkness and the bitter cold, for something to happen.
Behind us, the woods were deep black and filled with shadows. I got the uneasy feeling of eyes watching us. Clouds hid the moon overhead. No stars were visible. Jensen’s backyard smelled like garbage and spent ammo, and I was pretty sure
I was crouching in dog shit.
The blue glow of the TV set still lit the darkness. I tried to figure out what Reynolds was watching inside, but I couldn’t get a good view. We hadn’t had a lot of TV time in Australia.
Out front, the dog started barking again. I heard the front door to the trailer open, and Reynolds screamed at him to shut up.
While he was out there, I saw the flash of light one more time.
Diggs pushed me down an instant later, when a gunshot cracked the night wide open. A second shot followed. The barking got higher pitched, frenzied. My cell phone buzzed in my pocket.
I glanced at the text from Monty:
U ok? Reynolds is hit.
I texted back that we were fine, but didn’t go into details. Lights came on in the trailer. I could hear a kid crying. Eddie—Mike Reynolds’ wife—screamed.
Another gunshot sounded. A window in the trailer shattered. I heard Eddie swearing, screaming at the kids. I waited for her to call 911—the most logical solution in this scenario. She didn’t. Then, I heard Reynolds’ voice.
“I told you they were coming for us,” he said. “I told you, didn’t I? You said I was paranoid. Paranoi-this, you stupid bitch. They’ve been watching, all this time. Get the kids in the back. Take the shotgun.”
Another floodlight came on—this one in the backyard. Diggs and I hit the ground as Reynolds opened the backdoor.
“You think you can pin me down, you bitch? Bitch! I go, and everybody goes. That’s on you.”
He shot wildly into the night. He wasn’t working with a pea shooter, either—a barrage of rifle fire, machine-gun-style, sprayed the ground just inches from where Diggs and I lay. Sparks flew when a bullet hit Reynolds’ bunker.
A single shot came from the woods behind us.
Reynolds dove back into the trailer.
“He’ll kill everyone,” I whispered to Diggs. If I’d been crouching in dog shit before, I was laying in it now. It’s amazing how little something like that matters in the middle of a fire fight. “We need to get the kids out of there.”
“Would you stop saying that and come up with a plan, please,” Diggs whispered back. Far in the distance, I heard sirens.
Reynolds heard them, too. “Goddamn it—they’re coming. They’re coming.” It sounded like he was half crying. Fully crazed. “Eddie, you cover the back,” he screamed. “I got the front.”
Another kid joined the first, crying.
“You kids stay in the bedroom,” Eddie shouted. “And shut them up, Aidan. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Except it clearly wasn’t.
Another single gunshot came from the woods. It didn’t hit the trailer this time, though—it hit the bunker behind Diggs and me.
And then another.
The cops might be able to talk Mike and Eddie into coming out, but that’s not what the sniper was after.
The sniper just wanted them dead.
I texted Monty. We need distraction out front.
K was the only response I got.
Seconds later, I heard Monty’s van roll up the road toward us again. He had Guns n’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction playing loud enough to blow the speakers. Another gunshot hit the storage shed, tearing through the metal sheeting.
“Shit,” Diggs said. “We have to get away from this thing.”
Out front, I saw the glare of high beams as the van got closer. Heard Reynolds swearing up a storm inside the trailer. The poor dog was going crazy, barking his head off.
“Let’s go,” I said.
Reynolds headed out the front door, no doubt with his AK-57 at the ready. At the same time, Diggs and I stayed low and raced closer in toward the back of the trailer. Miraculously, no shots came while we were en route.
A second later, I realized why.
One more shot fired—out front this time. I heard Reynolds scream. Monty’s van backed up, and I heard him drive off, the music receding. Another text came in.
Reynolds dead. Where r u????
“Mike!” Eddie screamed. I could hear her crying. Frantic.
There was a gunshot inside the house.
Stillness fell.
I went cold. Diggs hand was wrapped tight around my wrist.
Behind us, one more shot tore through the side of the storage shed.
I heard the whoosh of flames.
“We have to get those kids,” I said. I shook myself back to life.
The dog was in a frenzy now, his barking deep and ferocious. The kids had stopped crying, though. I didn’t want to know why.
Everything inched toward slow motion.
I heard sirens in the distance.
An instant later, the shed blew.
I pushed myself off the ground and into the trailer, propelled by adrenaline and pure terror.
Inside, Eddie was dead. She lay in the narrow hallway, her head half blown off. I flashed back to my father, just for an instant, before Diggs pushed me past her body. We ran down a dark, claustrophobic hallway, slamming doors open along the way.
“Aidan!” I called. “You need to come with me. Come on out. Get the other kids, we need to get out of here!”
At the third and final door I came to, I paused. I could see flashing lights and hear sirens out front. The gunfire had stopped, but there was a fire blazing in Mike’s storage shed, flames spreading fast.
“Aidan?” I said, more quietly this time. Diggs was behind me. I pushed the door open with my foot, more slowly than I had the others, my hands raised.
The boy sat cowering in the corner, his brother and sister behind him. His bow and arrow were aimed right at me.
“Hey,” I said. I tried to keep my voice steady. “Please, Aidan—we’re not here to hurt you guys. But there’s a fire outside. I need to get you out of here.”
“Mum said not to move,” he said roughly. The toddler was still crying, cradled in the younger brother’s arms. “Shut up, goddamn it,” Aidan said to the kids. He kept his eyes on me. “Get out of here. I’m taking care of ’em.”
“Please,” I said.
Outside, another gun went off. An instant later, a second explosion rocked the ground beneath us. Something loud and very, very big smashed against the side of the trailer. I almost fell over at the impact. I steadied myself. I could see the kid shaking, fighting to stay in control.
“We need to go,” Diggs said, his voice riding a razor’s edge of panic.
“Let us go, Aid,” the other boy said. He was crying too, now. “Come on.”
“I’m supposed to keep watch,” Aidan said.
“You’ve done a good job,” I said. “A really good job. You’re supposed to keep them safe, right? The best way to do that is to come with me.”
I saw Diggs out of the corner of my eye, but he kept his distance. I took a breath. Focused on Aidan.
“Will you come?” I said.
Another second passed.
Finally, he nodded.
Before his chin had finished the nod, I was in there. Diggs grabbed the toddler, while I took both boys’ small, sticky hands. We charged out of the room and herded the kids past their mother, dead on the floor. Outside, sparks flew high in the night sky, the shed ablaze.
As soon as we were clear of the fire and ostensibly out of harm’s way, Monty appeared.
“Cops are here—you’ve gotta go. I’ll make sure the kids get taken care of. Go!”
I glanced at Aidan, his brother’s hand still in mine. “You guys will be okay,” I said. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
It took a second before the younger boy let go of me. Diggs surrendered the toddler to Monty, the kid’s face purple from crying, her hands fisted in Diggs’ shirtfront. Monty pulled her free.
“Take the van—it’s up the road.” He handed me the keys. “Carl’s at the dock waiting. I’ll catch up.”
“You sure?” I said.
“Go, damn it!” he shouted, losing his customary cool.
We went.
Chapter Eight
Monty joined us about ten minutes after Diggs and I reached the wharf, all three of us breathless.
“I got the kids in the arms of the nearest fireman, and got out of there,” Monty said. Meanwhile, Carl shepherded everyone on board and got the boat untied and headed out of the harbor. “I figure the less we tie the island, Jamie, or you guys in to this thing, the better. They were all okay, though. All three kids—not a scratch on ’em. Scared shitless, but they’ll be all right.”
“And Mike Reynolds?” I asked.
“Dead,” Monty said. “He came at me, would’ve taken out the van, but somebody got him first. What about the woman?”
“Killed herself,” Diggs said. “Inside the trailer.”
“You think whoever did this was the same person who killed your father?” Monty asked him.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t make a lot of sense otherwise.”
Carl ate up the distance to the island at a hell of a clip, freezing salt spray drenching the deck. The four of us huddled in the pilothouse and tried to keep warm. Diggs got quiet again. I watched him for a few seconds, taking stock. He had a cut on his forehead and crescents as dark as bruises under his eyes. His face was stained with soot.
Monty followed my gaze, but said nothing. He went over to talk to Carl, leaving Diggs and I with the barest illusion of privacy in cramped quarters.
“You think we made a mistake going in like that?” I asked. I thought of Mike Reynolds and Eddie Stoocher, now dead.
“I think you saved three kids’ lives tonight,” he said.
“If we’d called the cops earlier, maybe Mike and his wife would still be alive, too.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think what happened tonight would have happened whether we were there or not. The only difference from where I’m standing is the fact that those kids are still breathing.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead. “So…I guess maybe we could put that in the win column for a change.”
“Maybe so,” I agreed. The adrenaline was gradually receding, but my heart still hammered in my chest. If this was a win, I wasn’t sure I could handle a loss next time out.
◊◊◊◊◊
That night, after everyone was briefed on all the horrors of the evening, Diggs and I headed to bed with Einstein. Both Diggs and I were exhausted, sore, and freaked out; Einstein, on the other hand, seemed to be holding up well. We barely spoke when we climbed under the covers, and I ended up cuddling with Einstein while Diggs kept as far to the other side of the bed as possible without physically sleeping on the floor.
