“I can’t believe you’re with the sheriff now. I knew you’d be good for each other.”
“Yeah, well, don’t jinx it,” she teased.
“I think you make a perfect couple.”
“You’ve been telling me that for a while.” Vivian had enjoyed discussing Myles, but the worry lurking underneath all the chitchat was starting to get to her. “Do you think I should call the hospital again?”
Claire pulled her gaze away from her sister’s house, which was set back even farther than hers. It was just the two of them on this little lane. Most of the homes in the surrounding area were impoverished—this was the poor side of town, farther from the lake—but both their houses were unique and more artsy than ghetto. They were right next to the old city park. That park wasn’t used anymore but it was a pretty piece of land, except for the ugly cement restrooms. “Does it matter what I say?”
“What does that mean?” Vivian asked.
“I think Rex will contact you when it’s over. But that isn’t what you want to hear.”
“Because I can’t rely on it. Maybe the nurse doesn’t want to wake him. Or she went off duty and the new nurse isn’t even aware of what’s going on.”
Claire reached out to squeeze her hand. “Go call. It might ease your mind.”
Vivian had just slipped inside and picked up the phone when she heard the roar of an engine revved way too high, followed by the sound of squealing brakes. This was a dirt road that dead-ended into the old park; there was no need to be traveling at such speed. She was about to duck her head out to see what was going on when the pop…pop of gunfire turned her knees to water.
The call Myles received came from dispatch. Nadine Archer said she had Trudie Jenson on the phone, which meant he was hearing from Trudie for the second time in as many days. But this call wasn’t because she had Ink or Lloyd in her store. This was because Trudie’s Grocery was the first open business one reached when approaching town from the east and Brett Hamerschlit had stopped there to get help. According to Nadine, he had Janet Rogers in his Suburban.
When Myles heard what Trudie passed along to the dispatcher, it felt like someone had wrapped barbed wire around his heart. It hurt just to breathe. “What’d you say?”
Nadine repeated herself, slowly and distinctly, but her earlier rush of words had nothing to do with why he hadn’t been able to understand her. He’d quit listening after hearing the name Rogers, flipped on his cop lights and floored the accelerator in order to get out there as fast as possible. Marley…
Fortunately, he’d already been headed in that direction. Allen had called a couple of hours ago to report seeing a white pickup turn down a dirt road about a mile or so from his house. Myles wouldn’t have thought much of it. He’d been following up on calls from various citizens who’d spotted white pickups all evening. But there was the coincidence of Ned Green dropping Ink and Lloyd off in that general area. So once he’d exhausted any leads he’d considered more promising, he’d decided to have a look. Although there’d been no reports from up the mountain, he’d begun to wonder if Ink and Lloyd might’ve broken into an empty cabin and simply holed up there. They certainly weren’t in town. He’d searched everywhere.
“Where is Marley?” he asked.
“Home with Alexis. So is Elizabeth. Janet drove a four-wheeler to the road and flagged down Brett. He brought her into town. They need you up there, Sheriff. There’s a dead man in the backyard and the place has been shot up. Everyone’s rattled.”
“But Marley’s okay, right?” He needed to hear that part again. “Elizabeth and Marley—all of them—they’re fine?”
“Everyone’s fine, except the dead man.”
Yes, she’d mentioned a body. “Who is it?”
“They don’t know. Janet says he came out of nowhere to save them, and a tattooed guy, obviously the guy in the flyer you put out, must’ve shot him when he tried to get away.”
Myles asked a few more questions, but Nadine said Trudie couldn’t get any more out of Janet, who was crying and babbling hysterically. It was a miracle Brett, Trudie and Nadine had been able to piece together as much of the story as they had.
“I’m halfway there already,” he said, and almost disconnected.
Nadine stopped him. “Hang on. Trudie’s saying something. Sounds like Janet thinks Claire’s in trouble.”
That cold wave of terror he’d felt a moment before returned. He’d barely had time to let Marley’s safety sink in. Now he had to worry about Claire?
No, not Claire. Vivian…
Claire was screaming. The sound scraped Vivian’s spine like nails on a chalkboard because she didn’t know what it meant. Had Claire been hit? Or was she just scared half to death?
She’d acted so casual all afternoon, as if she wasn’t even worried. She probably couldn’t imagine anything like this really happening, despite Vivian’s insistence that it could.
The truck that’d come barreling up to the house had stopped in the middle of the natural landscape and cobblestone path that was Claire’s front yard. The hub-hub-hub of a motor at idle filled the air and the door cre-e-e-a-ked open as Ink got out.
Vivian was crawling on the wooden floorboards of the porch, trying to get to Claire, so she couldn’t see his face. Only his feet, clad in a pair of cheap tennis shoes, showed from underneath. But she didn’t need to see the rest to know who he was. He’d found her. At last. This was the moment he’d been waiting for—and the moment that’d haunted her nightmares—for the past four years.
The dust and dirt kicked up by his tires when he skidded to a halt combined with the truck’s exhaust to clog her nostrils. Coughing, she gasped for clean air as she grabbed hold of Claire.
Fortunately, Claire was finished screaming. “I’m okay. I’m okay,” she kept saying as if she didn’t quite believe it herself.
“I’ve got you.” Vivian had her gun, too, and planned to use it, but she couldn’t get off a good shot. She wanted to drag her friend into the house before Ink was upon them. She wouldn’t put it past him to shoot Claire just because she was vulnerable. The only reason he’d missed with the first couple of shots was that the bullets had to go through his windshield. Now he was out of the truck, and the windshield wouldn’t be there to deflect the next one.
“Hi, honey, I’m home!” he called.
Fearing she might not have a better chance, Vivian knocked over the chairs they’d been sitting on so she and Claire had the benefit of a barrier and fired before he could. The blast deafened her, but she knew instantly that she hadn’t hit him. She’d seen the spark of the bullet as it struck the hood of the truck.
“Is this any kind of welcome from the girl I’ve been dreaming about since we met?” He added a taunting laugh to that question, but he didn’t fire back and he didn’t advance. He was crouching behind the truck, using it for cover. She figured he wouldn’t have walked into the clear the first time if he’d expected her to be armed.
What was he hoping to do? Get her to waste all her bullets before he used his?
“Claire? Are you okay? What’s going on?” The voice came from farther down the lane. Leanne, Claire’s crippled sister, had heard the truck, the shots and screams, and was coming to investigate. Moonlight bounced off the metal of her wheelchair as she rolled toward them.
“Go back!” Vivian shouted. “Go inside and lock your doors! Now!”
Leanne must’ve recognized the urgency of the situation because she immediately reversed. But Ink wasn’t about to let her go. No doubt he knew she’d call the cops. He fired in her direction, missed, then jumped into his truck to chase her down.