His gun was drawn, pointed at Lacey’s head. Louis tightened his grip on Lacey’s neck, his heart jumping to his throat. He knew he couldn’t rotate the shotgun up quickly enough to use it against Gibralter.
Lacey was coming alive again. Then suddenly he froze and Louis knew he had seen Gibralter standing just four feet away.
“Say good-bye, asshole,” Gibralter said.
Louis tried to spin but was caught between the door and truck. He braced for the bullet he knew would rip through Lacey and into his own chest.
Gibralter’s gun exploded and Louis was pushed into the door. He felt a dampness trickle down his face as Lacey went limp in his arm. Louis forced his eyes open.
Lacey was deadweight. Louis let him slip to the ground. He reached up to his face and his fingers came away wet with Lacey’s blood and brains.
Louis glared at Gibralter. “You bastard!” he yelled, lunging at him, shotgun raised over his head.
He slammed the shotgun down, catching Gbiralter on the right shoulder. Louis drew it back again, this time with both hands and aiming for Gibralter’s head. Gibralter threw up his arm and ducked away.
Another blast exploded, shattering the truck’s window and showering them with glass.
Louis dropped to the ground and crawled around the back of the truck, away from the porch. He crouched by the front wheel and drew in several quick breaths, his fingers iced to the shotgun barrel. His eyes frantically searched the darkness for the source of the shot and for Gibralter.
“Kincaid.”
Louis spun to his left. Gibralter was crouched by the back wheel, holding his shoulder with his left hand, his right hand still gripping his revolver.
Louis swung to aim the shotgun at him.
Gibralter looked at it then laughed softly. His eyes drifted up to the porch.
Louis followed his gaze. The front door was open a crack, letting out a trickle of light from inside. Louis could make out the outline of a woodpile on the porch. But he couldn’t see Cole. He had fired on them. Had he gone back inside?
“Cole!” Louis called.
“Stay back or I’ll shoot again.”
He was still out on the porch, probably crouched down behind the woodpile.
“Cole! Put the gun down!”
“Fuck you! I’m not crazy.” The voice sounded small.
“Cole! This isn’t the way to end this!”
Louis glanced at Gibralter but he was watching the porch.
“Cole, you don’t have to die!” Louis called out. “You can give up right now. Nothing will happen to you.”
Cole’s laugh came out as a cry. “Tell that to Johnny and Angela!”
Louis shook his head. The kid had seen what had happened at the raid. “Cole, listen to me,” Louis said. “I know what happened to your brother and sister. I can help you make things right.”
Cole didn’t answer.
“I have proof, Cole! I have evidence you can use to prove what you saw!”
“Fuck you!”
Louis heard a low chuckle and looked over to see Gibralter shaking his head.
“Cole! Listen to me! The men who killed your brother and sister, they’ll pay, I swear! But you have to stay alive to tell the truth!”
The sound of shuffling feet came from the porch followed by the thud of a log falling.
“Cole? Are you listening? You have to trust me!”
“You’re one of them, man!”
“No! No, I’m not!” Louis glanced at Gibralter. He could see the contempt in his eyes. “Cole, think about Johnny! He wouldn’t want you to die like he did! I can protect you!”
Louis heard Gbiralter laugh again. “Right, Kincaid, you keep feeding him that bullshit. Go ahead, draw him out. Give me a clear shot.”
A second gunshot split the quiet, peppering the front of the truck and making Louis duck back.
Louis swung the shotgun at Gibralter. “Shut up! He can hear you!”
Gbiralter shook his head and looked back at the porch. Louis lifted his head again, straining to hear something on the porch. Nothing, except the crack of a shotgun opening. Cole was reloading. There was a small thump, then the sound of something rolling across the wood porch.
“Cole?”
“Fuck…fuck,” Cole whispered.
“Cole, that was a shotgun shell. You dropped it.”
“I have more!”
“I don’t hear them going into that gun.”
Cole was silent but then came more shuffling and another log falling. He heard Cole curse softly.
“Cole, you’re out of shells,” Louis said. “And if you try for the door I’ll have to shoot you. I don’t want to do that.”
Louis waited. He saw Gibralter rise slowly, one hand on the bed of the truck, the other holding the revolver.
“Cole, throw the gun out,” Louis yelled. “I’ll come up there and get you.”
“No! Stay back! He’ll kill me!”
“I can protect you.”
“Like you protected my dad? You held him while he killed him!”
“I was trying to save him. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Fuck you, fuck both of you,” Cole said hoarsely, his voice dying to a whisper. “Fuck everyone.”
Louis stood up. “Cole, I’m coming up.”
With a look at Gibralter, he started slowly around the front of the truck. He knew Gibralter wouldn’t shoot him in the back with his own gun but he prayed he was right about Cole being out of shells.
“Don’t, don’t…” Cole’s words were more plea than threat.
“Cole, I’m in front of the truck,” Louis said calmly, glancing back at Gibralter. Gibralter had rounded the back of the truck. Louis leveled the shotgun at him.
“Stay there,” he said. “You’re not touching this kid.”
Gibralter stared at him. Louis braced the shotgun against his side, his finger on the trigger. With his left hand, he pulled the flashlight out of his belt and shined it up on the porch.
The beam fell across logs. Louis swung it back to Gibralter. He hadn’t moved.
Slowly, Louis sidestepped up to the hut, his eyes darting between Gibralter and the porch. He reached the step.
“Cole, I’m coming up.”
A whimper from behind the logs.
Gibralter took a step forward. Louis swung the flashlight to shine in his face.
“You lift that gun, you’re dead,” Louis said.
“There is no dishonor in death, Kincaid,” Gibralter said softly. “Seppuku…”
Louis shined the light back to the porch and it picked up a spot of blue, Cole’s denim shirt. He was crouched behind the woodpile.
“Cole?”
Easy, easy…
Louis heard a sound and swung his light back to Gibralter. His gun was moving.
Louis spun to the porch and his flashlight caught Cole’s face only for an instant, just long enough to give Gibralter a target. Louis swung the beam away.
He saw the flash of Gibralter’s gun go off. His own hand jerked back on the trigger of the shotgun and it bucked violently against his ribs.
An explosion of noise, followed by echoes that seemed to pound in his head. Then it was quiet.
Gibralter was lying on the ground, his body dark against the snow. His palm was up, the revolver inches away in the snow.
Louis stared at him, his chest heaving.
Cole moaned.
Louis swung the flashlight beam around, picking up Cole lying on the porch.
No, check Gibralter first. Eliminate the threat.
He fell to his knees next to Gibralter and pressed a finger to his throat. Nothing. He tried the wrist. Nothing. There was a large black hole in the blue nylon of the parka.
Gibralter was dead.
CHAPTER 41
Louis gathered both revolvers and the radio from Gibralter’s body and hurried up to the porch. He knelt next to Cole, propping the kid’s head on his knee.