Return to Redlin

by Lazette Gifford

  Chapter 13

  My legs ached. I wanted to sit down and rest, but I could hear Junior's beater coming with a roar I suspected mirrored Junior's anger. I could barely hear the baying of the dogs over the sound, and for a moment if felt as though all hell came at us. My arms trembled and the wood wavered -- but I heard Junior slam the truck door closed, though he left the truck on. If we could get to it --

  He came in shooting and my arms froze, though a logical part of my mind told me he fired blind, and wasted the shots. He hadn't seen me, and if I could move up behind him before Tom and the dogs arrived --

  I took a step forward and saw him begin to turn, obviously hearing me --

  And Derrick stood, throwing a rock or a piece of cement, and hit Junior in the shoulder. He bellowed and swung back, the gun firing as I leapt forward and hit him right across the back of his head.

  I feared I might have killed him when he fell. For a moment I felt white cold with a new, unreasoning fear, but as Junior hit the ground he moaned. Not dead yet, then. He started to roll, and I had the wisdom to drop down to my knees and grab his gun out of his hand.

  Derrick limped across the debris, half falling in his haste. Blood covered his shoulder again, but he looked better. "Can you handle a gun?" he asked as he knelt down on Junior, grabbing one arm.

  "Not well and not today."

  "Okay. Help me with his belt and we'll get him tied up. I'll take the gun."

  "Like hell you --" Junior began, the words slurred and his movements erratic. Then he stopped with a muffled curse when Derrick shoved his head into the dirt. I thought he might be having trouble breathing, and I didn't think Derrick could hold him down for long.

  So I gritted my teeth and reached around under him, fumbling at his belt. Junior mumbled something into the ground that I probably didn't want to hear, so lucky for him Derrick kept his head down.

  The dogs howled, far closer now. Tom wouldn't be far away.

  Derrick used the belt to tie his arms behind his back, used his own belt for the legs. He quickly drew his arm out of the sling. I could see the cast had cracked and worried about his arm. He used the sling to wrap quickly around Junior's head and into his mouth muffling anything more he had to say.

  I helped Derrick back up, handed him the gun, and pulled the coat up over his shoulder again. He nodded thanks, the gun steady in his hand.

  "Does he have the cell phone?"

  "Can't find one." I patted his pockets. "Probably still in the truck."

  "Tom is out there, and too damned close, I think. See if he has more bullets." Derrick nudged a foot at Junior, who had begun to twist and turn, his eyes glaring with every promise of hell if he got loose. That glare shook me a little as I grabbed a dozen bullets out of his pocket. I'd never had anyone hate me so much.

  "Good. This way."

  He led me back the way he had gone to start with, but he kept watch over his shoulder. I could see Junior kicking and rolling around in the dirt. The dogs grew louder and closer and Junior's truck still sounded as though someone held a foot down on the gas pedal. Even if Tom yelled for him, he wouldn't expect to hear an answer.

  "I think there's a hole we can crawl out," Derrick said softly, close to my ear. My skin tingled where his hair brushed across the side of my face and neck. "If we can get Tom and the dogs in here, we might be able to get to the truck."

  I nodded, thankful Derrick didn't plan a shootout with Tom. We quickly crossed the barn and reached the hole, but I feared it would be too tight a fit

  "Can you clear some of the area?" he asked, glancing back towards the front of the barn again.

  Something scattered out of the way as I reached -- mice or rats, I didn't know which. I came close to giving a girly squeal. I grabbed a piece of rotting wood pulled, glancing back only once to see shadows at the front of the building. We didn't have much time.

  "Junior! Where the hell are you?"

  Junior kicked around and probably made some noise, but I don't think Tom could hear him above the dogs and the truck. He sent the dogs in first, and Derrick brought up the gun --

  But the dogs found Junior, which looked and sounded scary. He'd never treated the dogs well, and maybe they had their revenge. I tuirned away and grabbed the wood again, ignoring splinters, and yanked more free. I didn't want the dogs to find us.

  "Get away from him! Get back!" Tom's voice rose above the others. Dogs whined and yipped and apparently got out of the way. I saw Tom kneel and get the covering off Junior's face --

  Derrick shot at them. Tom shouted and threw himself back to cover, leaving Junior in the open. I got the last bit of board broken away while the dogs, barked and danced around, not entirely certain what to do.

  "Get them you stupid animals! Attack! Attack!"

  They knew the word. Derrick fired, and one went down, howling with pain. The others scattered in confusion. I grabbed Derrick's shoulder and leaned close. "We can get out!"

  "Go."

  "You --"

  "I'll be right behind you. I promise!"

  I knew he would keep his word. I scrambled out ahead of him. He fired the gun once more before I grabbed his arm and helped pull him out. Snow had started to fall harder.

  "The truck --" I said, breathless already.

  "He'll watch for us there. Back -- to the trees. Cover there, at least, and closer to the road. We might get someone's attention --"

  "Sirens!"

  Derrick's head came up and he smiled in a way I never thought to see when it came to police. I grinned like an idiot, too. We could hear Tom and Junior arguing as they came out of the building -- until they heard the sirens as well. They ran for the truck.

  "The bastards are not going to get away again." Derrick inched along the side of the barn and I kept close to him. Not safe, but at least the gun would provide some protection of the dogs if they caught up with us.

  We reached the edge of the building just as Tom and Junior leapt into the truck. Dogs piled into the back as Tom started backing and turning. I could hear sirens closer, though I couldn't see the cars yet.

  I saw Junior hanging out the side window, a rifle in hand -- obviously the weapon Tom had brought with him. Derrick reached back and pushed me behind him. He steadied his gun against the side of the building. I thought he would shoot Junior -- but he held as the truck turned, bounced over the ruts, and started away --

  He shot out both back tires -- damn good marksman. The truck skewed to the side, tilted and mired itself in mud and muck. I had hoped the truck would roll, but we didn't get lucky.

  "This is a good idea?" I asked, watching as Junior threw himself out of the truck, crouching down by the engine. Tom joined him a moment later, yelling for his rifle.

  "I want them where I can see them," he said. "The cops will be here soon."

  I could see the flash of red lights through the snow. A moment later, the first car turned into the drive.

  Tom took off at a run, rifle in hand, heading back toward a stand of half dead pines. I didn't think the cops would catch him if he reached the hills, at least not right away.

  A good thing Derrick didn't trust him. Miller came out of his car, gun in hand and yelling --

  Junior moved first, raising his hands, drawing attention, while Tom, stopped at the pines, turned and brought up the rifle.

  Derrick shot him.

  Tom fell, tried to get back up and run, but he only made a couple steps before he went back down to his knees. After a few heartbeats of panic and yelling, the other cops got everything in hand. They threw Junior down into the mud and even had Tom handcuffed.

  The Westons were not having a good day.

  The dogs obeyed the cops, thank God. I leaned back against the building as I saw the animals taken in hand.

  Miller rushed toward the two of us, gun in hand. I started to move out in front of Derrick before Miller did something we'd all regret, but Derrick stopped me with a hand on my arm and an unexpected grin.

  "S
on of a bitch," Miller said, looking from me to Derrick and back again. "You did good work there, Derrick. I can see why your Captain says you're such a good undercover cop."

  "Cop?" The word sounded foreign, odd, certainly not a term I understood in the same way --

  Derrick still grinned.

  "You could have told me!" I said, shocked and momentarily angry.

  "You said you didn't want to know."

  "I --" I stopped and remembered telling him how I didn't want to hear about his work. "But -- You should have told me!"

  He still grinned.

  Miller glanced from him to me and back again. He shook his head. "You two want to get in out of the snow now? I have some hot coffee in the car. We'll get you to the clinic in Loma."

  I glanced at Derrick who looked like hell. More blood covered his shoulder. I helped him to the police car while the state patrol took care of the Westons. We sat in the back, sipping coffee. I laid my head back -- and didn't wake up until we reached the clinic.

  I wanted to stay with Derrick, but Miller said my parents were waiting for me back in Redlin. Derrick patted my arm before they took him away.

  "You did good, Ginger. Thank you."