A chunk of wood flew in the air and Carson let out a howl, but his muttered curses afterwards suggested I’d missed him. Thinking himself clever, he popped up at the opposite end of the window and unloaded four rounds at me. I’d been expecting the move and my gun was waiting for him. As his bullets whacked into the front grille of the Dodge, I leaned over the hood and loosed a single bullet. His yowl this time held a note of agony and there followed the solid thump of a body hitting the floor. No way was I going to lower my guard though, because until I knew otherwise I wouldn’t presume that he was dead. I waited, enveloped in a cloud of cordite. I allowed my jaw to hang open, to cut down on the internal sounds of blood pulsing through my veins, and listened intently. Over to my extreme right wood creaked in the breeze but that was all.
It had been over so quickly that I was left a little dissatisfied. But the feeling could prove premature, because I still had to check that I’d dropped both Carson and Samuel permanently. Holding my position, I reloaded my gun, allowing the empty shells to fall by my feet. I didn’t start spinning the cylinder or anything dramatic. Then I waited again. From my position I could no longer see where Samuel went down, but I was confident that I’d placed two bullets in his body and he wouldn’t get up from them. I was more concerned that Carson was still alive. Until I was sure he was finished I couldn’t relax my vigilance. I listened some more and the creaking noise fell silent as the breeze dropped. A hush stole over the desert.
After a minute or so I came out from my hiding place and walked cautiously towards the front of the house. The gun was ready should Carson suddenly jump up and try to kill me. Ten feet out, I stopped and listened once more. Some night creature called in the distance, its voice like that of a mournful spirit. I took another couple of steps, eased up on to the porch. There were holes in the walls the size of clenched fists and one of them gave me a view inside without having to lean in through the shattered window. The lantern light spilled across the boards and touched the sole of a boot. It didn’t move. Taking things real easy, I took a better look around the edge of the window frame and was greeted by a satisfying sight. No, Carson wasn’t dead yet, but a hole in his throat pumped blood with each heartbeat. He didn’t have much time left in this world, but enough that he’d see the face of his nemesis. Shifting to the door, I pressed down on the handle and then nudged it open, following its swing as I stepped into the living quarters. Brent had been moved from where I killed him, and was now laid out on the couch with a blanket over his face, but I paid him little notice. Holding the gun steady, I advanced on his father who was propped against the back wall. The older man struggled to lift his head and meet my gaze. He’d lost copious amounts of blood already, but he still spat a mouthful on the toe of my boot. I didn’t flinch, didn’t give him the satisfaction.
Although his gun was lying on the floor at his side, it didn’t look like he’d the strength to pick it up. Keeping aim on him I dipped and lifted it away: just in case I was wrong.
‘You’re the bastard who killed my boy.’
His voice was paper thin, but still challenging. His eyes were rheumy, but that was probably their natural state. He fixed them on me.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I killed your son and I killed your cousin Samuel. Now there’s only you left. But I don’t think that’ll be for much longer.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’
It was only fair that he learned the name of his executioner. ‘Joe Hunter.’
‘Never heard of you.’
‘You wouldn’t have.’
‘What’s any of this got to do with you?’
‘Call me a concerned citizen.’
Carson gave a disparaging laugh, but all that did was help pump further blood down his chest. He gave up trying to staunch the flow and his hands slipped into his lap. ‘You came out here because of those bitches…’
‘I came for the girls,’ I corrected him.
‘Fuck, I knew we’d overstepped the mark taking so many in one go. I did warn Brent that we were being too… ambitious.’ He laughed again, but it was hollow. ‘Was a time when he’d have listened, too, but there’s no telling him lately.’
‘You’re trying to blame all of this on your son. Even when you’re dying? Make no mistake, I’m not going to save you, so you may as well come clean. Confession’s supposed to be good for the soul.’
Carson shrugged, and now his hands flopped by his sides. The signs were all there; he was leaving this world very soon. His eyelids slipped shut. I gave his boot a nudge. ‘What happened to Helena Blackstock?’
He didn’t even bother to look at me. ‘Gone.’
‘She’s dead?’
‘Gone,’ he repeated, and that was all. The next sound was the rattle of air between his lips. The crotch of his jeans darkened as he voided his bladder.
Chewing a lip, I stared down at the corpse. I had hoped to see him dead, and was happy that he’d paid dearly for his crimes against the women. But, having started questioning him, I now felt I could have done with another minute. I pretty much understood what had happened to the Logans’ hostages; why they chose them continued to elude me. In the grand scheme of things it didn’t really matter. All that was important was that I’d managed to free the girls, they were safe and their tormentors were now all dead. Nevertheless, a part of me wanted to understand the motivation of the beasts. If it had been about sex, then why had they discarded a beauty like Jay Walker, stuffed her in a hole in the ground to rot? Nicole said the men had each taken turns on her, but had spared Ellie the same treatment. Ellie was little more than a child, but if that meant anything to the Logans then they wouldn’t have stripped her naked in the first place. No, there was more to their motivations than the base need for sex, yet I could only cast conjecture now, because there was no one around to straighten things out for me.
Not unless there was still a spark of life left in Samuel.
I walked quickly for the front door, holding both my and Carson’s guns ready, because if Samuel had survived his wounds he might take a second try at me.
That eventuality didn’t come about. Even as I approached the exit door, I could hear the roar of a vehicle powering across the desert towards the ranch. Stepping outside, I watched gumball lights strobe across the desert, blue, red and white, causing the rocks they touched to appear like they flickered and jumped.
Good, I thought. Jay managed to get safely to the police.
25
Officer Lewin was no calculating murderer, and Jay understood now that his actions were driven by panic after his sergeant had challenged him on his part in the Logans’ schemes. He hadn’t thought through the shooting of Espinoza, had merely reacted with violence the second he thought that the game was up. She didn’t believe he’d taken part in the kidnapping of any of the women who’d ended up at the ranch, but he was stuck between the proverbial rock and hard place. Like he’d said to the sergeant, blood is thicker than water. He likely suspected that his kin were involved, but had swayed any investigation away from them out of familial loyalty. One thing she was positive of was that he hadn’t taken as much as a look at their ranch when Helena Blackstock’s husband had reported her missing. The chains in the barn, the holes in the ground: all would have been dead giveaways that the Logan men were keeping prisoners there.