The cowboy was beginning to think straight, but little did he know he’d just offered me a huge advantage. He’d no idea that Jay had escaped in a vehicle, and would be returning with the police, though not immediately. He thought the woman was on foot, and if she could make it across the desert safely it would still be many hours before she could raise help. He was going to waste valuable time waiting for Samuel to rendezvous with him, by which point I planned on being in and out again. If and when he came back to the house it would be with the intention of mounting some kind of damage limitation, more probably to plan a getaway, and he wouldn’t expect an armed man to be waiting for him. As long as he didn’t hook up with his cousin he’d remain ignorant of my presence until it was too late.
Ifs and whens: not something you could rely on.
I ran across the yard, heading for the back of the house where there was a door but no windows. Plan A was to crash through the door and shoot any man inside. Plan B was more sensible. I couldn’t count on the fact that Brent hadn’t prepared for such an assault and had placed the girls in front of him, so I had to check what to expect before going in. It didn’t rain here that often, and the caulking between the boards had been neglected for the last few years, so I found plenty of places to peer into the house. What I first looked upon was an untidy bedroom with two sets of bunks piled with dingy blankets and stained pillows. Soiled underwear lay piled in one corner, alongside dusty boots and a denim jacket on a peg. A crooked picture frame hung from a nail, but over time the painting had slipped and it now hung askew showing empty space between it and the frame at the top left corner. So the Logans weren’t art lovers. I moved on to the door itself, careful not to set my feet too hard on the wooden stoop. I couldn’t see through the door, but from within filtered the low buzz of voices in muted conversation. I couldn’t discern the individual voices, so wasn’t positive that it was the girls whispering together or if in fact Samuel had returned and was making plans with his cousin.
Continuing to the right, I again found a chink in the wall, and this time could make out a kitchen, replete with a pot sink and hand pump faucet. Dirty dishes were stacked on a draining board, but only enough to have been used during one meal. I could just make out the corner of a stove, and to the other side a table and chairs, and directly across from me a window overlooking the front porch. There was no movement, and the voices were quieter here. If things didn’t change in the next minute, that would place Brent and the girls at the front left corner of the house.
Returning to the door, I tried the handle. Bingo! The door swung open. I controlled it, teasing it an inch at a time so that it didn’t make a noise and alert anyone to my presence. Opening inward, left to right, it compromised my gun hand somewhat, so I had to stand well to the left jamb while opening the door. I continued pushing as the gap widened, making sure that no one was hiding behind the door by pressing it all the way against the wall it abutted at the hinges. The wind was still blowing and a gust chose then to dance its way inside. I could only hope that Brent wasn’t perceptive enough to notice the change in pressure and correlate it to an invasion of the house. In case he did, I moved quickly after the breeze, bringing up my gun.
To form the bunk room, an interior wall had been erected opposite a similar one that partitioned off the kitchen, so I moved through a short hallway. The air inside was rank: the stench of spoiled food, spilled alcohol, and unwashed bodies blended together. I breathed through my mouth. A threadbare rug softened my footfalls. Over my own movements I heard a thump, followed by the shifting of a body on floorboards. A voice snapped, ‘How many times have I to tell you to shut the hell up? If I have to come over there I’ll bust both your heads.’
Something else followed Brent’s warning that I hadn’t expected. There was a high-pitched squeak followed by a rising and falling wail, then a buzz. Brent was trying to get a CB radio working, and didn’t seem to be having much joy. Perhaps he was trying to patch into what his father and Samuel were saying over their walkie-talkies, which boded well for me because it meant Samuel hadn’t returned yet. Also, his warning revealed that both girls were in the same room as him.
I chose to step directly into the living space, my gun twisting towards the static shriek emitted by the CB radio.
What I saw made ice flood my veins and I’d no second thoughts about shooting Brent Logan.
Both girls were there, Nicole and Ellie, sitting side by side like conjoined twins in the corner of the room, a rope fixed between their ankles so they’d have to walk in unison. Otherwise they were as naked as babies, and that’s what infuriated me the most. It was a probability that their bodies had been violated, a sick enough thought, but the Logans had gone further than that and sought to humiliate them by constantly parading their nudity.
There was an ounce of me that wanted questions, primarily why the Logans had done this, but the rest of my being screamed for vengeance for these girls, and also the ones I’d been too late to save. If Brent hadn’t already started to rise at my sudden appearance I would have ordered him to stand, because before he died I wanted to shoot off his balls.
As it was, the young man came up with startling speed and made a grab for something propped next to the CB base station. It was the stock of a sawn-off shotgun. Hanging from his mouth was the white paper stick of a lollipop. In the dim light it was a flag to the business end of my gun. I aimed and fired, the gun bucking in recoil.
The remains of Brent’s lollipop flew across the room and landed at the feet of the girls, who both flinched back, emitting squeals of horror. Not so much at the sight of the lollipop as at the chunk of lip that adhered to it.
Brent fell over backwards, upsetting the chair he’d been sitting in, and crashing against a low couch with sunken cushions. He wasn’t dead and was trying to scream in protest, but it was difficult with half his lower jaw missing. I felt a savage sense of justice uncommon to me, knowing that he must be insane with agony, and tempered my next shot so that he continued to suffer a little longer. Normally I take no satisfaction in killing, but for what he’d forced these girls to endure, I gladly made an exception. I shot him square in the gut.
Coming from a Special Forces background, I preferred a lower calibre shell than the .357s I used here. When conducting hostage rescues the last thing you wanted was for your bullet to pass through the bad guy and kill their prisoner behind them. In the heat of the moment I’d forgotten about that, but Brent was well away from the girls, so the bullet just went into the cushions. As he rolled to the floor, I saw a huge open wound in his back. Nevertheless the man wasn’t dead yet and he was still gripping the shotgun. No way could he bring it on me, but it was aimed at the girls. I couldn’t take the chance he’d get off a shot so put him out of his misery far too soon for my liking. My bullet almost split his skull in two, leaving bloodied tendrils of his straw-like hair jutting out of the wound.
Hurrying over, I plucked the shotgun from his grasp. His finger was twisted through the trigger guard but pulled loose and allowed his arm to drop lifeless to the floor. I stood, looking around quickly to check that nobody had followed me into the room. The girls were horrified at my appearance, but there was also a note of hope in their gaze.
‘I’m a friend. Don’t be afraid, I’m here to help you.’
There was a knife on the table near to the CB radio. I retrieved it, having jammed the S&W into my belt. As I approached the two young women they flinched, grabbing at each other. I decided on a new tactic. ‘I’m a friend of Jay Walker. I’m here to get you both free.’