He gave Dysart’s head a vindictive shove into the floor and stood up.
“Plus I know you can never say anything about this, because you’d fall just as hard as I would. Now get up.”
Dysart got shakily to his hands and knees. He didn’t seem able to draw a breath. After a few moments his lungs opened somewhat and he was able to stand.
“Hands up high,” Landry ordered.
He patted the pockets of Dysart’s pants, then extracted the cell phone and a set of keys. Landry spun him around. “Change of plans. I’ve got a score to settle with young Mr. Donovan, so you’re going to get in that fancy Lexus of yours and drive away. And you don’t have to worry. I won’t touch your niece.”
Dysart felt a chill to the core of his body. He knew Landry was lying.
“If for some reason you get a pang of conscience and the cops show up here, then you will die,” Landry said. “I promise you that.”
He placed a hand on the base of Dysart’s neck and walked him rapidly outside to the car.
“And don’t come back,” Landry said. “Otherwise I’ll have to reconsider my policy on shooting clients. In fact …” He shoved Dysart against the side of the car, tossed him the keys and pointed the pistol at him. “… you’ve got five seconds to beat it or I’ll do it right now.”
Dysart clawed his way into the car and over-revved the engine as he started it. Gravel flew when he yanked the gearshift into Reverse, and again when he shifted to Drive. He barely noticed the three cars parked beside the driveway as he tore out onto the dirt road. After a few minutes of barely controlled jouncing, the Lexus slid to a halt and he sat there trying to catch his breath.
No headlights appeared in his rearview mirror.
He slumped in the seat and held his head in one hand. Landry was about to kill Lesley and Dysart knew it was his fault. What an idiot he was.
Could he live with himself if he sat by and did nothing? A spasm of nausea clenched his stomach. He had to choose between prison — or worse — and the torture of knowing he was an accomplice in Lesley’s murder.
He couldn’t stop Landry by himself. Did he have the courage to find a phone, call the police?
Dysart floored the accelerator and the Lexus shot down the dirt road.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Tim emerged from a stand of evergreens into a group of birch trees that were starting to lose their leaves. He thought the evergreens might be spruce trees, but the only thing he knew for sure was they scratched his arms plenty on the way through.
He had long ago given up on looking for Lesley. The trees were too dense and he couldn’t see far enough. The terrain he had covered while running from the cabin had been slightly downhill, so now he was moving up again, trying to find his way back. She might have returned to the cabin, and even if she hadn’t, Tim had had enough of wandering around in the darkness. If he found her there, he’d take her along and see where things led. If not, he planned to leave anyway before someone called the police.
The shotgun was heavy and cold in his hands as he started moving again, stepping carefully, as quietly he could. So intent was he on looking and listening for signs of Lesley that he didn’t notice all the noise he made. Twigs crunched underfoot with virtually every step he took.
A rotting log covered with lichen lay across his path at thigh height. He put a hand on it for balance and swung one leg over, then promptly lost his balance and fell. One foot landed on the side of a rock and turned over severely, twisting his ankle.
He yelled out in agony as he rolled to the ground. Pain roiled up and down his leg. His face was a sheen of sweat. He lay there for several minutes, praying for the throbbing to settle down.
Eventually Tim was able to regain his feet. He felt woozy at first, but then the feeling subsided somewhat and he was able to walk, albeit gingerly. After picking his way through the trees for what seemed like a long time, he began to doubt he was heading in the right direction. Then he froze when a twig snapped somewhere up ahead.
How far away was it? Couldn’t have been more than five or six yards. Trying not to move his feet, Tim leaned to his right to look around the bush in front of him. A thick clump of pine trees dominated the view. Beyond that he could see moonlight on open ground and the rear of the cabin. He had found his way back, and someone was near the edge of the clearing just ahead of him, probably on the other side of the pine trees.
Did they know he was there? If so, they gave no sign of it. Tim’s heart pounded as he concentrated, listening for any further noises.
What if it wasn’t Lesley? Tim realized with a start he had left the big guy’s pistol in the cabin, so whoever was on the other side of the trees might even be armed.
The hairs on his arms stood up as he heard a low sob. Who else but Lesley would be crying? Then a high-pitched whimper came, clearly from the direction of the pine tree. Tim smiled in the darkness. It was her.
His aches and pains forgotten, Tim gathered himself and prepared to make a surprise entrance. Taking a deep breath, he shouldered the bush aside and hobbled as quickly as he could around the pine trees with one arm out, ready to grab her before she could run.
“I’m home, dear,” he said.
Tim’s night exploded with noise and a flood of fiery pain as Ray Landry shot him in the gut.
Rob gripped the pistol more tightly with a sweaty hand and crouched down as low as he could. His racing heart seemed to pound in his ears, making it more difficult to listen for a repeat of the slight noise he had just heard coming from behind him, in the woods.
Then he heard it again, a faint pop as a dried bit of vegetation crunched under someone’s foot. His skin crawled as he turned his head in that direction. He had positioned himself so he was concealed if someone approached from the cabin, but he was more exposed to whoever was coming now.
The small hairs on the back of his neck stirred when he saw a flicker of movement. A shadow that was marginally darker than the surrounding forest appeared from behind a tree, paused, then moved out of sight again. Rob’s eyes bored a hole in the gloom ahead of the moving shadow. A soft momentary scuffing noise floated his way, then the shadow reappeared, picking its way toward the cars.
Rob shifted his weight carefully, holding his breath as he tried not to make any sound. He brought the gun around slowly and pointed it in the direction the shadow was headed. His hand trembled as his slick finger found the trigger. Another glimpse, closer this time, the edges of the shadow increasingly distinct, taking on a more human shape. The pressure of Rob’s finger increased imperceptibly on the trigger.
Then the shadow passed through a narrow band of moonlight and Rob caught a glimpse of Lesley’s face. He gasped and jerked the gun upright, taking his finger off the trigger. He stood up and called out in a hoarse whisper.
“Lesley.”
Lesley’s hand flew to her face as she turned toward him with a start. He motioned for her to join him. She ran over, crunching through the debris on the ground as she did so. He could feel her trembling against him as she grabbed him in a tight hug and planted her cheek against his chest.
Rob pulled her down so they both crouched next to his bush.
“Oh, God,” she said, “I’m so glad—”
Rob put a hand over her mouth. “Shh,” he said. He held his hand in place while he listened. Lesley made no attempt to remove it. Her eyes darted from side to side in a panicky way. Hearing no sign that anyone had heard them, Rob took his hand away.
“Are you okay?” he said as quietly as he could.