It connected.
Lisa felt her teeth rip the flesh of his nose as he was driven to the ground from the blow. She tasted blood and snot. She stumbled, almost fell back, but fought to catch her ground. Animal was doubled over, howling in pain, and the adrenaline was running through her, prompting her to rush him and hurt him again, when she felt strong arms grab her from behind and pin them to her sides.
She yelled and twisted her body, trying to throw her attacker to the ground. She fought so wildly, so ferociously, that she caught him off guard. She sensed his surprise and didn't even hesitate to proclaim victory. She used her weight to offset his balance, and they fell to the ground. She landed on top of him. His grip on her loosened a little, and she slithered away. A grasping hand reached out and grabbed her. She kicked back with one bare foot, the heel hitting the side of his chest. She jumped to her feet, eyes darting around, trying to collect her bearings. Tim Murray was getting to his feet, his features twisted in an angry grimace. Animal was on his side, doubled over, writhing in pain, still howling and yelling. And the old woman was hobbling toward her, a large knife in her hands, her face twisted in madness.
Lisa turned and ran, scrambling up the incline, her bare feet slapping the rocks and hard sand. The highly agitated state she was in helped propel her forward, and she ran like she had never run before, quickly leaving Tim Murray and the old woman behind her. She didn't look back even when she reached the top of the incline. She simply continued running, heading down the hill toward the SW.
"You bitch!" Tim Murray yelled behind her, and she heard his pounding footsteps as he gave chase. She pressed on, flying over rocks and foliage as she reached the desert floor. She paused, looked over her shoulder, saw that Tim was twenty yards behind her and quickly gaining, and she pressed on.
When she reached the SUV she fumbled with the door, got it open. The keys weren't in the ignition, nor anywhere she could see. Her panic rising, she slammed the door shut and checked Tim's progress. He was ten yards away and gaining. She darted around the side, keeping the vehicle between herself and Tim.
"I'm going to kill you, you fucking bitch!" Tim huffed. He was five yards from her, circling around the other side of the SUV She could hear his labored breathing dearly. Her own breathing was rapid, her heart still hammering in her chest. Her energy level was high, her senses incredibly sensitive. She felt warm. She moved to the right, trying to see where he was. She caught a glimpse of him through the windows. He glared at her. "You're going to wish you had never done that " he said. "You are going to suffer."
She quickly dropped to the ground in a sudden burst of inspiration and scooped up a handful of sand, coming back up in a flash. Tim dashed to the rear of the SUV and she ran around the front. They pinioned off each other. The incline was at her back now. Something scratched at her ankle and she glanced down: a bundle of twigs, blown by the rising winds.
Footsteps around the side of the SW.
She backed up, heart pounding. A moving cloud blocked the sun, plunging the desert in shadow. Tim appeared at the end of the SW, his features a twisted grimace. Bitch!"
And then she plunged forward, throwing her arm back and pitching the fistful of sand she clutched in her right hand the way a baseball pitcher throws a curveball..She threw the sand directly at Tim's face.
Tim flinched and howled, hands shooting up to his face, doubling over. "You bitch!" he screamed. "You threw sand in my eyes!"
She stopped, torn between rushing him again and beating him and turning to run. She glanced around. The SUV was still there, as was a four-door Saturn parked nearby. Both vehicles were useless without keys. And since she was pretty certain she had been transported in the SUV, Tim probably had the keys on his person.
She took a step forward and heard a scream. It didn't come from Tim Murray.
She looked up.
Animal was standing at the crest of the incline. He looked terrifying, larger than life, more monstrous somehow than she had ever seen him before. His left hand was covering his left eye. He was screaming and moaning in pain and anger.
His right hand clutched a huge butcher knife.
Lisa rushed forward, knocking Tim to the ground. He went sprawling, landing on his back, hands still covering his face. She fell beside him and her left hand grabbed a rock.
The sound of footsteps and falling stones to her left as Animal ran down the hill toward them. His footsteps were erratic, his voice tinged with pain.
She shifted the rock to her right hand, brought her arm up.
Tim Murray, as if sensing the blow, raised his left arm to protect himself.
Scurrying footsteps growing loser, accompanied by Animal's voice. "Fucking bitch, I'm gonna kill you… fucked up my eye.. "
She shifted her position over Tim, grappling with him.
The sand she had thrown in his face had helped her more than she had thought it would. His eyes were fluttering, tearing profusely; he was fighting disorientation and irritation.
It made it easier for her to get the upper hand and get a good aim.
And bring the rock down on his head.
Tim crumpled like a limp doll, and she hit him again for good measure. Both blows to Tim's head sounded like a watermelon being split open.
The running footsteps were growing loser, along with Animal's yell of rage.
Another burst of adrenaline exploded in Lisa's system. She rose to her feet.
And met the challenge head-on.
Twenty-nine
Despite the fact that William Grecko was completely shitfaced drunk, he was thinking very dearly.
Learning shocking news probably helped keep his mind operating in a more-or-less sober manner.
William Grecko sat behind his desk, nursing a bottle of 151. No use drinking out of the flask now. Why hide it? His staff knew he was an alcoholic. He'd been in rehabil itation centers six times for his alcoholism in the past twenty years. He'd lost two wives, three partnerships, and most of his friends to the disease. He'd been pulled over ten times for DUI, arrested once. When he began gaining notoriety as a high-profile criminal defense attorney, the cops who pulled him over usually let him off with a warning for some strange reason. But one thing he hadn't lost was his ability to reason when it came to protecting his clients. And right now he had to use his mind to the best of his ability to think and strategize this latest tragedy.
What the hell am I going to tell him? William thought, running a hand through his greasy hair. What the hell am I going to tell him?
It was two P.M. Lisa Miller had been missing for five hours. The last report he had gotten from the Las Vegas PD was a whole lot of nothing. The feds were at least doing somewhat better. A team of detectives had questioned Rick Shectman very casually, and naturally Rick Shectman had maintained his innocence. Mr. Shectman not only didn't know the Millers, he had never seen the people in the photographs the agents showed him. 'Best picture we had was the one with that guy at the bank, the good-lookin' dude who escorted Mrs. Miller inside," William's FBI contact, Phil Krider, reported. "Shectman takes one look at him, says he never saw him before."
That was the official story. Phil related that he was pretty confident that Rick Shectman had been lying when he denied knowing the men in the photographs. "l could tell by the way he looked at those photos. He didn't even give them a real look. Just glanced at them, looked back at us, and said, 'Nope, don't know these guys. The man didn't even give the pictures the time of day, like he knew what they were of. That tells me he knows something."