by Brian Harper
Ally hugged herself, a shudder blowing through her like a cold draft.
“Robinson, I’m gonna kill you quick. You’ll never even know what hit you. Bang, and you’re gone. That’s because I respect you as an adversary”-malicious mockery soured the words-“and I never underestimate a lady with a gun. But as for Ally …”
Trish knew she shouldn’t listen, but the man’s voice held her fascinated, hypnotized. He was more than a petty criminal. He had the perverse persuasiveness born of an utter absence of doubt.
“Yeah, you, little darling,” Cain breathed. “You I’m gonna do slow. I’m gonna give you some of what you didn’t go for the first time. Only, I’m not putting my cock in you, no, ma’am. It’ll be a knife instead, or an ice pick, something creative, and you’ll scream-“
“Turn it off,” Ally moaned.
Trish was wrenched out of her daze. Her fumbling hands found the power switch and depressed it.
Silence.
But the echo of Cain’s words hung in the air, dark and acrid like smoke.
“He won’t,” Trish whispered. “He won’t do … what he said.”
“Who’ll stop him”
“I will.”
“But we can’t get away …”
Incipient hysteria in her voice. Trish looked at Ally-the dress riding up around her hips, her slender legs sprawled artlessly on the lawn. She was a pretty girl, would be a beautiful woman-if she made it that far.
“It’s okay. Ally,” she breathed, thinking hard, reviewing her options.
“No, it’s not. It’s not …” Ally sank into a fetal pose, hugging her knees. Wetness glistened in her eyes. “Oh, God. I’m sorry, Trish.”
“For what”
“For … being a baby.” She wore an absurd smile. Her shoulders jerked feebly. “For crying. It’s just … I’m afraid. I don’t want to die.”
“Me either. And we’re not going to.” Her mind was racing in tandem with her beating heart. “Just give me a second to figure something out.”
Another second. Not much to ask for, ordinarily.
But tonight a few more seconds-a minute at most-was all the time they had.
35
“You hear me, freckle-face” Cain frowned. “Hey, Ally … Robinson”
No response. The cop had switched off.
Well, it didn’t matter. She and her little friend had heard plenty. They ought to be rattled good, not thinking straight, and that was just the way he liked it.
Still on the same frequency he said, “Lilith, you still there”
“Of course.”
“Start licking your chops, sweetheart. I’m giving the Kent girl to you. You can warm her up-and I’ll finish her off.”
A purr of pleasure, then a sigh. “I’d rather have Robinson.”
“We don’t play games with her. You in position”
“Standing post.”
“Stay alert. The rookie’s armed.”
“Ooh, I’m scared.”
Cain had to smile at that. The only thing Lilith knew about fear was how to instill it.
Clipping the radio to his belt, he headed out of the kitchen, down the rear hall.
Eyes shut, Trish pictured the backyard’s layout, looking for any kind of escape route.
The gazebo, she remembered, stood at the end of the long diagonal walkway that led to the patio. The walkway was bordered on both sides by hedges of lavender.
Earlier she had used those hedges for cover when approaching the house.
Could she do it again
The idea seemed crazy-going toward the house when the killers were inside. But being crazy, it was the last thing anyone would expect.
She risked a look over the gazebo’s low wall. Nobody was visible at any of the lighted rear windows. Surely the yard was under observation from some vantage point-one of the unlit windows, perhaps, or the dark hallway beyond the patio door.
But from the hall, at least, a watcher wouldn’t see a person crawling low to the ground on the west side of the hedge rows.
“Okay, I’ve got something.” She slipped onto elbows and knees again. “Follow me.”
“You have a plan” Ally whispered with desperate eagerness.
“Sort of.”
Not the most reassuring answer she could have given. But a sort-of plan was the best she had to offer right now.
Tyler and Gage stood waiting for Cain at the rear doorway, nearly invisible in the darkness, their uniforms like liquid shadows.
“Where’d she get the radio” Gage snapped as Cain approached.
The kid’s face was pale, the sparse hairs of his mustache beaded with sweat. Like Lilith, he and Tyler had overheard the crosstalk. And now he was scared.
“We’ll deal with that later,” Cain said calmly.
“Where’d she get it”
A screamer. Quick to panic. Way out of his depth. Blair must have been crazy to bring him along.
“From your brother.” Cain showed him a sneer. “Where do you think”
“She couldn’t have. No way.” Gage shook his head vigorously, starlight flashing on a gold earring below a bunched mass of oily dark curls. “That little bimbo never could take out Blair.”
“That little bimbo,” Cain said without inflection, “got out of a locked trunk underwater. And nearly put two bullets in me. Did you hear what I told her about not underestimating a lady with a gun I meant it.”
“Blair could handle her with his damn eyes closed.”
“Maybe he had his damn eyes closed, and that’s why she handled him.”
“Christ …” A sob caught in the kid’s throat.
“Hey, Gage, take it easy.” That was Tyler, speaking for the first time, his tone smoothly reasonable. “Just because she got Blair’s stuff doesn’t mean he’s dead or anything. She probably just tied him up, is all.”
Cain didn’t know if Tyler believed any of this, but the reassurance had its intended effect. Gage’s rising panic abruptly receded.
“Think so” he whispered. “Think my bro could be okay”
Tyler shrugged. “Robinson’s no killer. Ain’t got the stomach for it.” He rapped Gage’s shoulder, a gesture of manly affection. “Not like us.”
“Yeah.” Gage hitched in a breath, calming himself. “Yeah, not like us.”
Cain smiled briefly. Nice work on Tyler’s part. The problem had required a diplomatic touch, which the cowboy had neatly supplied.
“All right,” he said briskly, reasserting command. “Last I saw of our two friends, they were in the garden. Assuming they continued toward the gate, they would have ended up near the gazebo.”
Gage nodded. “That’s where I hunkered down when Mrs. Kent turned on the light.”
“I’m betting they’re pinned at that spot. They can’t leave without revealing themselves.”
“Sitting ducks.” Tyler’s thin lips skinned back from his teeth in a gunslinger’s bloodless smile.
“Yeah. Thing is, they know it. Cornered, Robinson will have to fight. So watch yourselves. And remember, she’s the prime target. Waste her, and we can take the Kent girl alive.”
Tyler gave it a thumbs-up. “No sweat.”
Hugging the doorframe, Cain flipped a switch. The patio light died, but the rest of the yard remained illuminated.
He ducked low through the doorway and slipped behind a redwood lounge chair.
A second later Tyler and Gage joined him. Together they crawled to the flagstone path. Bent double, Cain advanced along a row of lavender bushes bordering the walkway.
The hard part was over. Now it was time for some fun.
In his life Cain had killed two cops by his own hand. He was looking forward to number three.
36
Movement on the patio.
Trish heard a soft shuffle of nylon jump suits. Halfway along the hedge she froze, Ally behind her.
Most likely the killers would go to the gazebo, expecting their quarry to be hidden there. She didn’t think the
y would take the path. Walled in by hedges, they would be vulnerable to ambush.
Instead they probably would do what she had done: stay low along the outside of the path, using one row of bushes for cover.
But which row East or west It was a coin flip. Heads, she lived; tails, she died.
She waited, breath held, supported by her elbows, the Glock clutched in both hands.
If they came this way, she could shoot one of them, perhaps. Then the others would open fire, tearing the hedge apart in a lethal fusillade.
Rustle of lavender stalks. Close.
This wasn’t going to work. Abruptly she was certain of it. She’d gambled and lost.
Then she heard Cain’s voice, pitched in a whisper: “Keep your heads down.”
He was directly opposite her-on the other side of the path.
She’d won the coin toss. Cain and his men had chosen the parallel route. Two hedges and the flagstone path between them were all that separated hunters from prey.
Trish remembered the use of her lungs. Swallowing fear, she started crawling again.
Cain moved forward in a crouch, leading Tyler and Gage. His footsteps were soundless, the tread of a ghost. The only noise was the tuneless clinking of the patio wind chimes, making their night music.
The gazebo’s interior drew into view. Empty. Most likely Robinson and the girl were squatting at the rear.
He paused at the end of the path, hunched behind the hedge, smelling lavender and thinking.
Best move was to take Robinson by surprise. He motioned to Tyler and Gage: Stay back.
Silently Cain slipped between the hedge and the gazebo. He drew a deep breath.
Now.
He burst into the gazebo and swung his gun over the back wall, ready to shoot the rookie from above before she could react.
No one was there.
Trish wished she could be cool about this, like some TV cop. Wished she could shed the fear that was wearing her ragged.
Her stomach bubbled. A sour taste lay like something furry and hot at the back of her throat. She kept puffing up her cheeks to hold in the small, nervous belches that made her eyes water.
Fear kept a person alert, Pete Wald had told her.
She was more alert now than she had ever wanted to be.
At the end of the path she paused, waiting for Ally to catch up. The patio light was off, making it easier for the two of them to wriggle behind the redwood furniture.
But to get in the door they would have to expose themselves briefly to view. Ally first, Trish second.
With luck the killers would be focusing their attention on the gazebo, their backs turned to the patio.
Yes. With luck.
Cain switched on his flash. The beam, probing the shadowed ivy at the rear of the gazebo, caught a glint of black plastic.
The handset of the cordless phone.
“They were here,” he muttered.
Somehow they’d gotten away without being seen.
But it was impossible. Tyler and Gage had been watching the yard through the rear doorway the whole time. There was no cover their two quarries could have hidden behind. Except …
The same cover Cain himself had used. The hedges on the path.
He whirled, staring down the walkway, and saw a double blur of motion on the darkened patio-Ally in her white dress, Robinson right behind.
Ally disappeared into the rear hall before Cain could even lift his gun. He wouldn’t have time to target the cop either.
Then she went down.
Just inside the doorway, she fell sprawling on her side.
For a split second Cain thought Tyler or Gage had taken her out with a silenced shot.
No. She’d simply lost her footing as she pivoted into the hall.
An easy kill.
The Glock beamed a thread of laser light across the yard, stamping a red-orange dot on her chest.
Trish fell on the tiled floor, wet shoes betraying her, and then she was scrabbling at the baseboard, trying to rise, her chained hands clumsy, and suddenly there was an amber glow on her uniform, close to her heart.
One chance.
She pistoned her right leg. Kicked the patio door.
The door swung shut as the bullet reached it. She heard the crunch of the jacketed hollowpoint drilling through wood. But the door was heavy, with a solid core, and though the lower panel swelled inward, the bullet didn’t penetrate completely.
She twisted upright as three more bullets smacked into the door, punching new bulges in the panels and stiles.
“They just don’t give up!” Ally screamed.
“Neither do we. Come on.”
Trish was running again, the hallway lurching around her as her shaky knees threatened to buckle.
“I’ve got keys.” The words came out in explosive gasps. “We’ll get a car-from the garage-ram the gate.”
Ally’s bare feet slapped the tiles in a staccato rhythm. “They teach you this stuff at the police academy”
“Gate ramming Yeah.” Trish wanted to laugh, wanted to become hysterical, but she had no breath. “I came prepared.”
Tyler and Gage had started shooting after Cain’s bullet impacted the slammed door. They were only wasting ammo and degrading their sound suppressors.
“Hold your fire!” Cain yelled.
Gage lowered his gun and wiped a shaking arm across his face.
Tyler twirled his pistol, Wild West style. “What now, boss”
“We keep ‘em bottled up. You guard the side exit. Gage, take the rear.”
Tyler broke into a run, covering ground in long, loping strides, simultaneously gangly and graceful. His black jump suit melted into the shadows between the house and the garage.
Cain was already on the radio to Lilith. “They’re in the house. May try getting out through the front. Watch the door.”
“You should’ve let me take a crack at her in the first place.”
“This isn’t woman’s work.”
“Tell that to Robinson.”
“I will-right before I blow her brains out.”
He terminated the transmission and quickly followed Gage to the patio.
Someone had to search the house. It was the job entailing the highest risk, so naturally he would do it. Not bravado, just basic leadership skills.
The little rookie was showing some skill of her own, he reflected. Smooth moves-using the hedge for cover, kicking the door shut. She was a street fighter, inexperienced but with the instincts and reflexes of a pro.
He’d thought his threats over the radio had rattled her. It appeared she didn’t get rattled so easily.
Yeah, she was good, all right.
But as the saying went: The good die young.
37
Down the hall.
Through the dining area.
Into the kitchen.
Trish ducked low as she passed the kitchen window. Her shoes, encrusted with loose earth from the garden, were leaving even more obvious tracks than before, but there was no time to do anything about it now.
She and Ally reached the laundry nook, stopping at the side door.
“Where’s the entrance to the garage” Trish gasped, digging in her pocket for her keys.
“Right off the path.”
“Okay.” She gulped another breath. “Here we go again.” Easing the door a few inches ajar, she peeked outside.
The guy with the ponytail. Coming this way.
Close the door, close the door.
She pushed it shut, engaged the lock and security chain. Probably he hadn’t seen her; the laundry area was dark.
The woman named Lilith would be at the front gate by now. Cain was out back.
Nowhere to go.
There might be an unguarded window on the other side of the house. If she and Ally could slip outside, then sneak around to the garage …
“New plan,” Trish whispered. “We try the east wing.”
With Ally she retreated into the kitch
en, then stopped, hearing heavy footsteps in the rear hall.
Cain.
Suicidal to cut through the living room now. Trish pulled Ally back into the laundry area.
The side door trembled, the knob jerking as it was turned from outside by the ponytailed man.
Cain’s footsteps approached.
Caught between two killers.
Robinson-the mocking voice on the radio echoed in her thoughts-I’m gonna kill you quick.
She looked around, frantic.
Opposite the laundry nook, a door.
She opened it. Stairs led down into a dark cellar.
“There’s no way out of there,” Ally hissed.
The side door shuddered. The ponytailed man had attacked it with his shoulder or his boot. A crack shot through the frame.
Trish pushed Ally onto the staircase. “We don’t have any choice.”
Another jolt from outside, and the side door banged ajar but was stopped by the chain lock.
Ally hurried down. Trish followed, closing the cellar door, sealing the room in darkness.
Quickly she descended, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. The intense, narrow beam played over concrete steps and cinder block walls.
The cellar was large and musty and damp. No windows. No other doors.
Just as Ally had said: no way out.
Following a trail of muddy shoe prints, Cain entered the kitchen just as the side door burst open, the security chain snapping, and Tyler pivoted through the doorway.
His Glock swung toward Cain, and for a bad moment Cain expected to get iced by friendly fire. Then Tyler’s face registered recognition, and sheepishly he lowered the gun.
“Bitches locked me out,” he mumbled. “I thought I was walking into a trap.”
“Don’t sweat it.” Cain knew all of them were operating on an adrenaline high. “Just stay alert. They’re somewhere close.”
He studied the soiled floor, the confusion of tracks. His quarries had advanced and backtracked, their movements erratic, panicky.
Still, they’d found some sort of hiding place.
