And—
Something streaked past the window. Something far too large to be a human.
Val set her rifle on the countertop and leaned forward to get a better look. It couldn’t be—
Oh, no.
Val raced to the door, checked to make sure no one was lurking outside, and then pulled it open just in time to see Bo trot around to the back of the house.
Sam squealed and bolted through the door. “Horsey!”
“Sam, stop!” Val went after her and found Sam standing still on a step outside, staring at one of the gang members running toward them.
Val plucked the beer stein from Sam’s hands and fired it at the teen’s head.
Clang!
The kid folded to the pavement.
Val was on top of him before he could move, leveraging his right arm to pin him face down on the ground. “Don’t move.”
“Man this day has been the worst.”
Reaching into her pocket, Val found the zip ties she’d been intending to use to close garbage bags full of clothing from her closet. She connected several together and fastened the kid’s wrists and ankles. When she finished, she turned back to the house, surprised to see Harry Junior balanced precariously on the porch steps.
“Harry—” She caught him just as he was about to topple forward. Plopping him on her hip, she turned back to the house and…
No Sam.
Val’s whole body stuttered. Her pulse accelerated to double time. “Sam?” she yelled, racing up the steps and into the kitchen. The empty kitchen. “Sam? Where are you?”
“A man took her,” Junior said.
“You talk?” She stared at the little boy, not entirely sure she hadn’t imagined it. “Do you know which way they went?”
Junior pointed into the house and through the shattered patio door. He glanced back to her and smiled.
“Nice work, Harry.”
“Poogababbaaa! Blopp!”
Val glanced back toward the open kitchen door. She was already seconds behind the kid who’d taken Sam. She’d never be able to run fast enough to catch up with someone half her age.
But she had an idea that just might work. “Come on, Harry. There’s no time to lose.”
Hackqueem
Carrying a kid wasn’t easy, and Hackqueem gave his moms big props for carrying him around until he was five because he didn’t have good balance. She also had a little Bears helmet for him that he wore because he kept falling and banging his head on things.
Moms was the best.
But lugging that squirming kid was tough. And she wasn’t quiet, neither. Shorty kept yelling “Stranger danger!” which freaked Hackqueem out because this kid was too small to be talking in big words like that. Like some kinda Exorcist demon baby.
“Shh. Quiet.”
“Stranger danger!”
“Girl, I ain’t no stranger. Name is Hackqueem. Can you say Hackqueem?”
“Horsey!”
“Nah, not Horsey. Hackqueem.”
That’s when Hackqueem heard the galloping sound, coming up fast from behind.
And so Hackqueem ran faster.
Val
Val squeezed Bo’s sides with her calves, urging the mare to go faster. She could see Sam now, the little girl’s hands flailing, her screams audible even over hoofbeats and the drumming of Val’s pulse.
“Stranger danger! Stranger danger!”
Val had run into Lund near the barn. After trading Harry Jr. for the rope and halter Lund was carrying, she’d whistled for her mare, slung herself up on Bo’s back, and was off. She’d caught up to the punk in seconds.
The kid was slowing down, probably getting tired, and Val recognized his shirt. It was the one who had shot at her, shattered her glass door, scarred Lund’s pewter stein collection, and almost killed Val in her own living room.
Val wasn’t in a charitable mood.
Coming close, she shifted her weight back and pulled up a little on the lead rope. Riding bareback with only a halter and lead wasn’t easy, but it had been quick. Just halter, mount, and go. This part would be trickier.
Val switched the rope to her left hand and took a firm hold on Bo’s mane, legging the horse over until she was coming up directly in line behind the punk.
Slow down , Bo. Steady.
“Stop immediately!” Val yelled.
The kid swung toward her, his shoulders moving to the side, still running. His eyes rounded and he let out a strangled shout.
“Sam!”
Already pulling away from the kid’s shoulder, Sam looked straight at Val and reached for her with both hands.
Val’s right arm threaded the space between Sam and her captor, pulling her up onto—
For a moment the boy didn’t let go. Bo kept moving, and Val felt herself shifting off balance, slipping to the side… teetering… teetering…
“Stranger danger!” Sam screamed, right into the kid’s ear.
He released Sam. A stride later, Bo’s hip plowed into him. He flew about a meter, hit the ground, and rolled. But instead of popping to his feet, as so often happened in the movies, he lay still.
Regaining her balance on Bo’s back, Val positioned Sam astride in front of her. “Hold on to the horsey’s mane, Sam. Okay?”
The little girl did as she was told, smiling as she did.
Val circled the mare, heading back to the teen on the ground, and that’s when she spotted a second punk racing toward them. “Hold on tight, Sam.”
“Giddyup!”
“Giddyup? Where did you learn that?”
“Giddyup! Giddyup! Giddyup!” Sam sang. “Little horsey saw it all!”
Sounded like an Internet meme. Val decided she didn’t want to know.
She squeezed Bo, and the mare set off in a rocking canter, straight at the second kid.
He dodged to the side.
Bo dodged with him.
He tried to double back.
Val cued the mare to circle him.
“Giddyup!” Sam said and cackled with glee.
Another fake from the kid, picked up perfectly by the mare, barely a touch from Val this time. Bo was obviously enjoying this, her quarter horse genes expressing themselves. Maybe Val would have to take up cutting cattle in the future. But first…
“Down on the ground!” Val shouted. “Down on the ground now!”
The teen dropped to his belly and assumed the position; hands clapped to the back of his head, ankles crossed.
Someone who obviously knew the drill. Sad, but no surprise.
Lund
“Val.”
Lund ran to catch up, Harry bouncing on his hip. When Val jumped on Bo and took off, he thought she was nuts. Even now, every cell in his body was shaking. “I’ve seen you do some crazy things, but that was insane.”
“It got the job done.”
Val tossed him some zip ties from her pocket. Setting Harry a safe distance away, Lund secured both teens.
Val stopped her mare in front of one of the gangbangers. “How many of you are there?”
The kid stared up at the horse, a look of terror on his face. “Four.”
“Just four?”
“I swear.”
Two here, one next to the house, and one in front of the barn. “All accounted for,” he said to Val.
“And why are you here?”
He spit out the whole story. They’d been sent to kidnap one of the kids. They didn’t know which one. They decided to take both, but somehow everything around them seemed to burst into flame.
Lund had the feeling he knew who was responsible for the last bit.
“There’s a kid back by the barn, name is Jet Row. He’s burned. Really bad,” Lund lied. “He’s in a lot of pain. Might even die. I’d love to call for some help, but I have no cell signal.”
“Cell jammer,” muttered the kid who Val had run down on the horse. He was still groggy but awake. And looked embarrassed as hell.
“What’s that?” Lund asked.<
br />
“Cell jammer. I dropped it that way,” he pointed.
Turning on the outdoor spotlight, Lund found the device while Val returned Bo to the barn. Then Val called the police station, reported the punks, and asked if officers could come and pick them up.
“Tell them to throw in some diapers and wipes,” Lund said, giving Harry Jr. a wink. The little boy winked back, then toddled toward Lund, his dish towel diaper sagging.
Lund glanced back at Val. “Better go for the value packs.”
Val
Val finally gave up trying to reach Jack on her tenth try. No doubt, the cell coverage up north was to blame. Just as well. As soon as either Jack or Harry could get a signal, Val was certain they’d call. Especially once they heard all the voicemail messages she’d left.
The night was reasonably warm, so Val elected to leave the horses out. Tomorrow, she and Lund could clean up the mess in the barn and get things back to normal. Tonight, they had the house to worry about.
The temperature might not be cold for the horses, but humans were a different story. A Wisconsin night in November with no sliding glass door was an ugly thing, but dozens of moving boxes and a roll of duct tape improved the coziness factor quite a lot.
After a dinner of Chef Boyardee that Junior discovered in the bottom of his diaper bag, Val and Lund sat the kids in front of the television with a G-rated DVD while they turned their attention to the destroyed curio cabinet.
“What a mess.” Lund picked up one of the pewter beer steins and examined the damage.
“Broke,” Sam said, turning away from the television, her voice steeped in sadness.
“Brrurpftkk,” Harry Jr. added in a matching tone.
“Yeah, it sure did.” Lund let out a heavy sigh, walked into the kitchen, and dumped it in the kitchen wastebasket.
Val couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up.”
“But that… that beer stein. It’s part of your collection.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought it was important to you.”
“It was.” A slow smile crept over his lips, his eyes looking off over Val’s shoulder, as if he was watching a scene playing out miles away. “Backpacking through Germany. Summer before I graduated from college. I had hardly any money, you know? Just a rail pass, a map, and a list of cheap youth hostels. Probably the only time in my life I felt totally free.”
Val could understand why he’d want a souvenir of that time. It sounded wonderful. Strong. Independent. Like a distant dream. “So why are you tossing it?”
“For one, it’s got a bullet hole in it. For two, I might be clueless most of the time, but even I can tell you don’t like the steins.”
“But I would never ask you to give them up.”
“I know. But that doesn’t mean you should have to put up with them. And I’m sorry I asked you to give up your closet, Val.”
Val’s face flushed hot. She had been acting so petty, so self-centered and selfish. It embarrassed her to think Lund had seen her like that.
Maybe that was the problem.
She wasn’t reacting to the annoying things Lund did. She was afraid he’d find her annoying, too. Or worse.
Living apart gave Val space to stuff her closet with silver boots and horrible 80’s jeans and culottes that reeked of smoke. To leave her dishes in the sink or eat a quart of ice cream for dinner just because she was feeling fat anyway. To be at her worst without worrying that Lund would see, that he would judge her and recognize she came up short.
“How can you stand me?” Val could feel the kids staring up at her, eyes wide, and she felt like crying.
“Val?” Lund’s voice was soft.
“Moving in together, I thought it would be great. I wanted to do it. Really…”
“But?”
“But I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you.”
Lund’s eyes went wide. A chuckle escaped from his lips. “Disappoint me? You’re kidding, right?”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not making fun. You? Disappoint me? The other way around, I could see, but you could never disappoint me.”
Val didn’t believe that. Not for a second. She shook her head.
“Try me. What’s the worst I could see?”
Val braced herself. If they were going to have this conversation, she might as well be as honest as she could manage. He’d see her in all her imperfect glory soon enough. And if he couldn’t take it, she’d rather know now. “I squeeze the toothpaste tube from the center.”
“But don’t you waste a lot of—” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Never mind. We’ll just buy more. Not a problem.”
“Sometimes I wear granny panties.”
Sam exploded in giggles. “Granny panties! Granny panties!”
“Blab!”
“Okay, I don’t like granny panties,” Lund said. He lowered one lid in a wink. “So if you do that, I guess I’ll just have to take them off.”
Val couldn’t hide her smile. “Sometimes I want to clear out all the old stuff in this house, my mother’s grandfather clock, the china cups, this stupid old princess phone… just throw it all in the trash. And then the next moment, I’m sure I can’t live without it.”
Instead of saying anything, Lund just took her in his arms. They stood like that for a long time, then Val felt little arms encircle her legs, one set then another.
“It’s just stuff, Val,” he finally said.
“I know.”
“And yet, it’s something that connects us to the past. To people we loved.”
Val nodded. “And to memories of who we were.”
“Yes. But the memories aren’t really attached to stuff. They’re all up here.” He tapped his temple. “And now that we’re living together, we have the chance to make a whole bunch more.”
“Keep the steins, Lund. Really.”
“You, too. Keep all of it, as long as you want.”
“Even the granny panties?”
Lund kissed her. “When it comes to those, we’ll negotiate.”
They picked up the steins, Lund electing to put them in a box in the basement instead of the trash. But before Lund closed the flaps and taped them shut, Val fished out the one featuring Neuschwanstein.
Lund raised a brow. “You want to display it?”
“I want to remember.”
“To remember almost getting shot?”
“To remember the day you gave up your steins for me.”
“Are you sure you want me to put them in the basement? They did save your life…”
“Compromise, Lund. You hide away your pewter fetish, I give up half my closet.”
“Really?”
“Really. There’s enough room. I was just…”
“Making sure?”
“You’d think I’d be sure by now.”
“It doesn’t matter. I love you, Val, and I plan to make my case for why we should be together every day for the rest of our lives.”
“Did you get that gooey sentiment from Cosmo?”
He winked. “That gooey sentiment is 100% Marlboro Man.”
The movie ended and they put the kids to bed in Grace’s room. Standing at the doorway, watching the two kids sleep, Val finally felt at peace.
When Val’s sister had died and twelve-year-old Grace had come to live with Val, Val’s life had changed drastically. And yet she never felt as if she’d given up anything, at least not anything that mattered. Standing here with Lund, she was beginning to feel the same way. Maybe that was normal. Maybe that was the way love worked.
Lund set Dickhead the Bear in the space between the bed where Sam slept and the box they’d fashioned into a makeshift crib for Harry.
Val gave him a smile. “If they were always like this, I’d consider adopting.”
“Would you?”
The eagerness on his face made her take a step back. “Uh, maybe we should get used to li
ving together first.”
“And setting a wedding date? Soon?” Lund wiggled his brows.
Maybe, Val thought. Maybe. But instead of answering, she just smiled. That was a subject for another day.
Jet Row
It was inhumane treatment. Someone needed to call one of those activist groups that protected human rights. Amity International, or the ASCPALU. The hospital had lied to Jet Row and told him his burns were only minor, when he was sure he needed skin grafts on 90% of his body. Plus, he got no sympathy at all for being shot. Just one more gangbanger getting plugged. Treating him like a statistic rather than a human being. All they did was slap some cream and gauze on him, then send him to jail.
That was some Guantanamo shit right there.
And the amenities in the Lake Loyal holding cell were downright terrible. The cop in charge, Officer Ginny Jones, was some kind of sadist. Jet Row and his crew pleaded to be fed because they hadn’t eaten since that continental breakfast the day before, and all she gave them was a box of powdered donuts.
Powdered! She had to know that no one liked the powdered ones. And she was a sister, too. Just another Uncle Tom working for the Man, sucking up to whitey.
“Cop bitch is just another Uncle Tom working for the Man, sucking up to whitey,” Jet Row said, taking a bite of his third donut.
“First of all,” Hackqueem said, “look in the damn mirror. You’re white. You’re so white, you look like someone spilled bleach on Casper.”
“That’s racist,” Jet Row said.
“Second, you talk about how much you hate racism, and then you call her a bitch. Sexism is just as bad.”
“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have sex with her. She’s fine. I’m saying the bitch is a bitch because of these punk ass donuts. Don’t they have chocolate in Wisconsin?”
Hackqueem rubbed his face, obviously embarrassed because he couldn’t respond to Jet Row dropping the hard truths.
“How long you think we’re going to jail for?” Bön Dawg asked.
“Depends on what the district attorney charges us with,” Sha Nay Nay said. “B&E, assault with intent, kidnapping…” he threw a pointed look at Jet Row. “Arson.”
Watched Too Long: A Thriller (Val Ryker Series) Page 7
