Or run her over…
“Oh, God!” Claire jumped up as if there was something she could do. But Vivian pushed her aside. She couldn’t have Claire getting in the way. Her gun was their only hope of stopping him.
“Call Myles!” she yelled, and ran after Ink herself, firing at the back window in hopes of hitting him.
The window cracked and splintered. Even in the dark, she could make out the holes she’d made. A web of lines connected them. But she ran out of bullets before she could bring him to a stop, and she didn’t have another clip. Virgil hadn’t even given her one. They’d always imagined a close encounter, the chance to fire once or twice at most, had never dreamed she’d use so much ammunition.
There was a huge crash, then the grating of metal on rock as Ink plowed into what was left of the concrete restrooms. Leanne had managed to reach one of the openings before he could run her down, but he had her blocked in.
When he realized she wasn’t going anywhere, he abandoned the truck, keeping her barricaded there, and started back.
That was when Vivian got her first real look at his face.
He hadn’t changed much. One leg appeared to be shorter than the other, or his spine had been fused, because he had an awkward gait. A grimace revealed what it cost him to move so fast. But his tattoos were as grotesque as ever, both in their abundance and the macabre nature of the designs he’d chosen.
And his eyes were still as devoid of human emotion as a snake’s…?.
He didn’t seem afraid that she’d use her gun. Obviously he knew how many bullets a typical handgun could hold and had already guessed she was out.
Hoping he couldn’t see her well enough to shoot her, she ducked behind any tree or shrub she could find. As she made her way back to the house, she was surprised he didn’t even attempt to fire at her. Was he saving his bullets? Or did he have other plans?
Claire was already inside. Hopefully she’d managed to get hold of Myles or someone else who’d be able to help. Now that Ink was the only one who had a gun, they wouldn’t survive for long.
“Leanne’s okay. She’s fine,” she assured her friend as she hurried into the house. She didn’t know how much of a chance they had, but she promised herself and God that she wasn’t going down without one heck of a fight. Her children were in New York. She planned on seeing them again. And there was no way she’d let Virgil’s sacrifice be in vain.
She shut the front door just as he began to run in earnest. He rammed it a second later. She yelped at the noise and so did Claire, who stood at the kitchen sink holding a butcher knife while talking on the phone.
After turning the lock, Vivian started pulling the furniture in front of it.
“Open up!” he yelled. “Open up right now or I swear I’ll go back and put a bullet in her head.”
Leanne… Vivian froze. He wasn’t going to force his way in. He didn’t have to.
“He’s going to do it this time. He’s going to kill her!” Claire was still trying to verify basic information with the 9-1-1 operator. She’d given her name twice, her address three times because she was so nervous she couldn’t get it straight, and screamed that they needed help now. But she’d heard what Ink said despite all that, knew he meant it. And so did Vivian.
Leanne was stuck out there in her wheelchair.
She couldn’t even run.
30
Myles had sent every deputy in the area to Claire’s house. Two had already arrived. When he drove up, he could see their squad cars parked haphazardly, red and blue lights flashing. He could also see a white Dodge Ram that had crashed into the old Pineview Park restrooms. His headlights landed directly on it, showed him the window that’d been shot numerous times.
But that was it.
Where was everybody?
After driving like a madman to get here, for one foreboding second he didn’t even want to get out. He was too afraid of what he might find. He’d lost Amber Rose three years ago, had spent more than a thousand days trying to figure out how to make sense of his life again. And now that he’d moved on, found Vivian and wanted another chance at everything he’d once had, this…
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and got out. The house stood open, the light from within falling on two deep ruts in the yard, suggesting a vehicle had recently driven right up to the front door.
He heard crying…?.
Something cold and hard filled him as he approached that sound because he knew in his heart it wasn’t Vivian.
Deputy Campbell glanced up when he crossed the threshold. He was on his radio, calling for an ambulance. A scratched-up Claire leaned on the table. She was the one in tears. Leanne sat, dry-eyed, in her wheelchair, which was smashed on one side, looking a little dazed. Vivian was gone.
“Where is she?” Myles asked.
“He dragged her into the woods,” Campbell replied. “Peterson’s gone after them, but…” He shook his head and let it go at that.
He didn’t need to finish. Myles understood what he meant. He didn’t think they’d find her alive.
Vivian fell several times as Ink pushed her through the trees. It was too dark to see much more than vague outlines. When she walked out of the house to save Leanne and he didn’t shoot her instantly, she’d hoped she might have the chance to escape him. He wasn’t the same man who’d shown up in her living room four years ago. This Ink was handicapped and in obvious pain. But he was still freakishly strong. And he was even more ruthless and determined.
“What is it…you want from me?” Occasionally a glimmer of moonlight streamed through the trees to illuminate a portion of his face or body, but she felt his presence more than she saw it. He had an iron grip on her shirt and was half shoving, half dragging her along with him.
“I want to make you pay. I want to make you all pay.”
She stumbled while trying to look at him, and he kicked her. Fortunately, he was too close to land a solid blow. Her leg hurt despite that, but she refused to whimper or groan. Her pain and misery was what he wanted. She was pretty sure he’d put his gun in his waistband. It was close at hand, should he need it, but he didn’t want to go that route. Making her death quick and easy wouldn’t be enjoyable enough for him.
He wanted to relish the process.
“You’re going back…to prison,” she said. “I hope…you know that.” She was trying to engage him, to stall him so the police could catch up, but he kept moving.
“They won’t take me alive.”
She listened for other sounds in the forest. Far off, she heard sirens. Myles was coming to her rescue, but how would he ever find her in time? There was too much land out here, and it was so dark.
“That’s your out?” She prayed to catch a glimpse of a flashlight beam shining through the trees, proving that there were other deputies looking for her—deputies who were closer. But the immediate area remained dark and damp and quiet, except for the sounds of their own labored breathing.
Ink didn’t answer.
“You’re going to—” her leg burned from where he’d kicked her, making it difficult to walk “—to let them shoot you? Or…shoot yourself? Because even if you kill me…you won’t get out of this.”
Nothing.
“And Horse is dead,” she said.
He stopped. “What’d you say?”
“He’s dead. Virgil killed him.” She didn’t admit that The Crew might’ve killed Virgil, too. She didn’t want to face that possibility, was still hoping it wasn’t true.
“You’re lying!” He clubbed her on the side of the head with his gun and nearly dropped her in her tracks. Her knees buckled as stars exploded onto her vision. But she shook off the pain.