But that wasn’t how it happened.
Hunter wasn’t falling. He was in a controlled drop, both knees spreading wide as he squatted low and to one side. His hands had dropped from his head: one out to the side to steady him, the other thrusting under the tail of his shirt. In a blur his hand came out from under his shirt, swung up and she saw the flash of his return shot a second before the sound wave hit the car. Again she could not follow the play of gunfire, but she heard the corresponding whack of Hunter’s bullet strike Lewin. Lewin gasped, cursed and then staggered back to place the car firmly between him and Hunter. His body was jammed up against the window next to her face, and she saw where Hunter’s bullet had struck his Kevlar vest. Lewin fired back, yelling something animalistic, even as he reached for the handle of her door. She guessed what he was thinking, and this time she was right. He tore the door open and reached for her, intent on using her as a shield against Hunter’s bullets.
No way was she going to let that happen. Jay threw herself across the back seat, kicking at his arms as he reached for her. Lewin was too distracted, trying to watch where Hunter was, and her heel painfully struck his forearm. He swore, yanking his arm out of the way. The respite was momentary, because he then swung his gun hand inside to take its place. ‘I don’t need you out of the fucking car to kill you,’ he yelled.
His words were meant for the two of them, and if they didn’t work on Hunter she would never know if she didn’t do something now.
Jay lunged across the seat, pulling out of concealment the knife that Hunter had given her hours earlier. She had it clasped between both fists, the blade spearing towards Lewin’s arm. Lewin couldn’t watch them both at the same time, and she was certain that he’d be more intent on a gunman than a seemingly helpless woman. But then, she wasn’t always right.
The boom of Lewin’s pistol sounded like an atomic detonation within the confines of the car.
26
Something had been troubling me for some time and it seemed that my suspicions were correct. I recalled the first occasion I’d met Officer Lewin at the burned-out husk of Peachy’s gas station. Then I’d thought him a good man, someone who could help, but in his words there’d been a note of warning, and also one of suspicion. When he’d allowed Helena Blackstock’s name to slip into our conversation a flicker of unease had passed across his features. At the time I’d decided he was inwardly berating himself for admitting that there was a problem with missing women within his jurisdiction, but I knew otherwise now and it went deeper than that. Scott Blackstock said the police had visited the Logan ranch and their search had come up empty. Well, the cop responsible must have been blind, because the chains in the barn weren’t a new addition and it was clear what they were used for. More likely the cop knew about the Logans and their unhealthy fascination with certain women and had turned a blind eye.
On first arrival at the ranch I’d conducted the shortest of searches and discovered the barn, the lean-to where Jameson Walker’s SUV was hidden, and the pit where Jay had been chained. The SUV wouldn’t have been a factor when Helena went missing, but there sure as hell hadn’t been a search conducted here since the gas station robbery. Considering that the Logans were known as the local hellraisers any cop worth his salt would have paid them a visit; and seeing as this was Lewin’s neighbourhood, it stood to reason that it should have been within his remit.
I’d no idea what hold the Logans had over him, but I could make a good guess. Recalling that ninety-five per cent of the local population was Navajo, it made sense that of the remainder a proportion would have family ties. Was it a stretch to think that the Lewin and Logan clans were not far removed? Made me wonder about Carson’s wife, and what her maiden name had been.
It was a pity that I hadn’t formed this opinion until after I’d sent Jay to fetch the police, and it had only firmed in my mind once I saw the reaction from Nicole when I told her what I’d done. I had intended asking Nicole about that reaction but too many things had taken precedence and it had slipped my mind; now I wondered if she’d overheard the Logans discussing their law enforcement ally.
Everything I’d considered could have been bullshit, but over the years I’d learned to trust my senses. As I saw the cruiser speeding towards me I made a snap decision: I shoved the semi-automatic I’d liberated from Carson into my waistband. The Smith and Wesson I dangled from my finger, offering the approaching cop no threat. Then I’d placed it on the porch and stood away from it, assuming the position with my hands laced on my head. For all I knew, I was totally off track, and couldn’t even be sure that it was Lewin who’d responded.
Next second, the young fair-haired cop threw open his door, and, using the cruiser as a shield, he targeted me. That wasn’t unusual and wasn’t what told me that he intended shooting first and asking questions later. It was the rage in his face. My presence on the doorstep could mean only one thing, especially considering the gun I’d just put down: the Logans were no longer a threat to me. Ergo, I’d killed them. And he was now the only one left to resolve the terrible situation.
I couldn’t see Jay, but I heard her scream. I was already moving by then, dropping out of Lewin’s line of fire and going for the semi-auto at the small of my back. Lewin’s shot went over my left shoulder and through the open door, striking something metallic inside the house. The spang! of the spent bullet was echoed by my return shot. At this distance I’d no option but to aim for his centre of mass, most of which was concealed by the cruiser. Nevertheless I watched Lewin respond by rearing away and twisting his body so that he could check where my bullet had struck his anti-ballistic vest. Like many US cops, he wore his vest beneath his uniform shirt, but I’d been under no illusions that it was there. My shot hadn’t been designed to kill, merely to stop him killing me while I was out in the open.
He snapped his gaze my way, just as I vaulted off the porch and ran at an angle towards the cover of the Dodge pick-up. ‘Bastard! I’ll kill you!’ His yell came out as an hysterical scream, and he fired at me. Again his shot went wide and I threw myself down at the far side of the pick-up, placing the wheel hubs and engine block between us.
For a couple of seconds I had no line of sight, but it was a fair trade considering the cover it offered. I took the respite to eject the magazine and check the load. Carson had been shooting wildly, and judging by the weight there weren’t that many shells left in the gun. In fact, only two bullets remained, one of them already in the breech. I’d .357s in my pockets, but this mag wasn’t chambered for them. Crap. Never mind, I’d just have to make them count. One thing I was sure of: I wouldn’t be aiming for his bulletproof vest next time.
‘I don’t need you out the fucking car to kill you.’
Lewin’s shout wasn’t only for Jay’s ears. He’d yelled loud enough that I knew what he intended, and it wasn’t to warn me that he was about to kill her. He was trying to draw me into the open again. If he shot Jay there and then, what leverage would he have against me?
I didn’t concern myself with his bullshit at first, because I didn’t think it was an immediate threat. But then I heard Jay screaming again and I dodged around the back of the pick-up. Lewin was so incensed with rage — or fear — that he wasn’t acting in a rational way. He was grappling with her, leaning inside the car and, for a long enough time, his attention wasn’t on me. I kept low, running towards the rear of the cruiser.