Lenny checked her throat for a pulse. He tried breathing in her mouth and pushing on her chest. “I don’t know what I’m doing over here.” Lenny wiped his mouth, which had just been pressed to Jerry’s, on his shirtsleeve. “She’s gone. He killed her.”
“Get your ass on the ground,” Jake said. “A knee at a time.”
“Look, man, she called the cops,” Chuck said. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to get on the ground like I just told you to do.”
“I’m not going back,” Chuck said. “I told her straight up, anyone who tries to put me back in a cage is dead. Same goes for you two. Just let me walk out of here.”
Jake went straight for him and put a boot in the back of Chuck’s knee as he pushed him down on the ground. Jake jammed the barrel of his gun into the back of Chuck’s skull and put his mouth just inches from Chuck’s ear. “I should splatter your brains all over this carpet.”
“Then do it,” Chuck said. “Do it while you have the chance.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Jake balled a fist in Chuck’s hair and pressed down, grinding Chuck’s face into the living room carpet. He swatted at the back of his head repeatedly.
The actions seemed more like disrespect than any attempt to cause injury.
“Lenny, give me the cord from that lamp,” Jake said.
Chuck, facedown with a gun jammed into the back of his head, couldn’t see what was going on.
“Get your hands behind your back,” Jake said.
Chuck didn’t obey.
Jake moved his knee into the back of Chuck’s neck, and Lenny came over and assisted in the tying.
Chuck fought being restrained but didn’t win. His hands were bound with the lamp cord, and Jake rose from his back.
“Let’s get him in the car,” Jake said.
“What the hell are we going to do with him?”
“The plan hasn’t changed,” Jake said. “The only thing that’s different is the name on that check the feds are about to cut.”
Chuck pulled against the lamp cord securing his wrists. Surprisingly, he felt it loosen.
“Get him up.” Jake motioned with the barrel of his gun.
“What about Jerry?” Lenny asked as he pulled Chuck to his feet.
“There’s nothing we can do. What’s done is done. But she called the feds, and the last thing we want is to be sitting here if they show up. Let’s go. We’ll stuff his ass in the trunk and get him back to my brothers.”
Chuck felt Jake jab him in the back with the pistol then give him a shove toward the door—he’d also felt the lamp cord loosen a bit further when Lenny pulled him to his feet. His mind raced. Getting stuffed into a trunk? That wasn’t going to happen. He recalled the assault rifle in Jerry’s bedroom. If he could separate the two men, get free, and get to the gun before getting shot in the process, he would at least have a fighting chance. They were walking Chuck toward the door. He stopped.
“Move,” Jake said.
“Let me get this straight. You’re going to walk me outside at gunpoint and stuff me in a trunk?” Chuck asked. “And then what? Just hope no cars drive by? Hope no one is out there walking a dog? And I’m no criminal mastermind like you two geniuses or anything, but don’t you think maybe you should do something about that?” He jerked his chin at the camera mounted in the corner of the room. The camera that had certainly caught everything that had happened inside. “I’m not telling you how to do your jobs or anything, but come on.”
“Shut your mouth, or you’ll lose your teeth,” Jake said. “Now, walk!”
Jake balled a fist in the back of Chuck’s shirt and tried muscling him toward the door.
Chuck did his best to be dead weight.
“Help me with this asshole,” Jake said.
Lenny grabbed Chuck under the arm, further loosening the lamp cord. Chuck was certain he could get his hands free.
“He does have a point,” Lenny said. “Just hang on.” Lenny left the pair and walked to the door that led to the garage. He opened it, poked his head inside, flicked on the light, then turned it back off. “Jerry’s car is parked to one side. We could pull your car right into the garage. It would take two seconds, and at least we’d be out of sight.”
“Fine. Hit the button for the overhead,” Jake said.
Lenny leaned into the garage and slapped the button for the overhead door. Chuck could hear it rising.
Jake all but dragged Chuck toward Lenny, who was at the door leading into the garage from the living room. Chuck tensed his arms so his wrists wouldn’t pull free from the lamp cord.
“Knees.” Jake again jammed a foot into the back of Chuck’s knee and pushed him down. With his hands behind his back, Chuck moved his right arm down while pulling his left up. The lamp cord dropped to the floor behind him. He looked up at Jake and Lenny—neither heard it hit the carpet. Neither seemed to have noticed his arm movement. Chuck kept his hands behind his back.
Jake handed the pistol to Lenny. “I’ll back in the car. Don’t take your eyes off him.”
“Yeah,” Lenny said, taking the gun.
Jake walked through the doorway into the garage.
A kneeling Chuck looked up at Lenny, who had eyes locked on him and the gun aimed at him. The time to act had come. Chuck was prepared to die if it came to that. He doubted that the pair of bikers shared the same resolve.
“You’ve got a look in your eye like you want to do something,” Lenny said.
Chuck ran through it in his head—Lenny was about three feet away. Getting to his feet and making a break for the gun in the bedroom was about a hundred percent certain to fetch a bullet in his back before he reached the hall. He was going to have to go straight at Lenny. Chuck heard Jake’s car fire up in the driveway. He was going to have to take on Lenny that second. Chuck rocked to the side to get a toe down—a base to launch from.
“Quit moving or I’m putting a bullet in your brain.” Lenny stepped closer and put the barrel of the gun just inches from Chuck’s forehead—the perfect position for Chuck’s plan.
Chuck pushed off the foot he’d planted and swatted the pistol away from his head. He took Lenny off his feet and slammed him to the end table near the couch. They both fell to the ground. Lenny’s head bounced off the wall. The gun flew from his hand. Chuck slammed an elbow down into Lenny’s nose and immediately went for the gun. He took it, turned it on Lenny—who was flailing around trying to get his footing—and fired. The single shot entered the side of Lenny’s head just above his ear. Blood peppered the wall behind him. He was dead by the time his face hit the carpet.
Chuck rushed for the open door leading out to the garage—Jake, in a panic, was coming from the driver’s door of his car. Chuck fired twice. The window of the car shattered, and Jake dropped into the open doorway. Chuck went to him. Leaking blood from a wound in his chest, which he was gripping, Jake looked up at Chuck.
“Don’t,” Jake said.
Chuck fired a single shot into Jake’s face. Blood spattered the door panel that Jake’s head had been resting against. Jake slumped over—dead.
“I told you what was going to happen,” Chuck mumbled.
He fished the Mustang keys from his pocket and went to the driver’s door. He got behind the wheel, tossed the pistol on the passenger seat, and turned over the engine. When the car fired, Chuck slammed it in Reverse and shot out of the garage. Headlights flashed in the Mustang’s rearview mirror. Chuck locked up the brakes as he saw that he’d just been blocked in the driveway. A chest-high chain-link fence with some bushes to his right and a couple of well-placed trees to his left stopped him from taking to the grass on the side of the driveway. He grabbed the pistol from the passenger seat and threw open the driver’s door.
Chapter 33
“Who were the two guys?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Beth said. “Maddox just said that a Cadillac pulled into the driveway, and a pair of guys got out and went into the house.
He asked if he should try to get closer and get a tag on the car, but I told him to sit tight. Whoever these guys are who showed up could be why she isn’t here.”
“Could be.” I let out a sharp breath. “But I’m done wondering. About everything. Let’s go find her. Whether she actually is inside of her house or otherwise.”
“All right,” Beth said. “Should I call Disick and have him go into the bar?”
“Yeah, I’m going to call Maddox and let him know that we’re on the way. See if anything changed out there.”
Beth was already dialing Disick. I pulled out my phone and dialed Maddox’s number.
“Maddox,” he answered.
“Hey, it’s Agent Rawlings. Has anything changed?”
“Nah, not since the two guys showed up to the house. A couple of lights went on and off, but that’s about it.”
“All right. What’s the address out there?”
Maddox gave it to me, and I pinned my phone to my ear with my shoulder while I got out my notepad and jotted the address down. “Got it. Any signs of Gerrianne Walters?”
“No, but if she was here, she never left,” Maddox said. “Do we know that she lives here alone? And that a bunch of her motorcycle gang buddies don’t just live in the house as well?”
“Don’t know,” I said.
“I can probably check the DMV database for registered drivers at the address,” Maddox said. “Hold up. It looks like we’ve got the light on in the garage now.” Maddox paused. “It just went out.”
“All right. We’re going to head that way,” I said. “Just keep eyes on the place and let us know if anything happens.”
“Um,” Maddox said. “Hang on. The garage door is opening. I’ve got a red Mustang inside—that’s Gerrianne Walters’s car.”
“Okay, so she’s still there, or at least her car is,” I said.
“One of the guys is walking back out. He’s getting in his car.”
“Is he leaving?” I asked.
“It looks like he’s pulling it into the garage. Yeah. That’s what he’s—shit.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what the hell that was, but it sounded like a gunshot,” Maddox said.
“Was it?” I asked. “Or was it something that sounded like it?”
“Hold on,” Maddox said. “This guy is getting out of the car. We’ve got someone else in the garage. What the—Shots fired! Shots fired! I’m going in.”
The phone went dead.
I looked at the screen of my phone, which showed he’d hung up.
“Son of a bitch,” I said.
“What?” Beth asked.
“Let’s go. Scott, grab your car. Follow us. Maddox just had shots fired at Gerrianne Walters’s house.”
“What? Really?” Beth asked.
“He was going in. We’ve gotta go.” I started for the hotel’s sliding doors.
“I’ll call 911 in case he didn’t,” Bill said.
We got outside and split up for our cars.
“Follow us,” I called to the guys.
Beth and I got in our rental, her behind the wheel.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
I hit the interior light next to the rearview mirror so I could see and punched the address from my notepad into my phone’s navigation. A second later, I brought up the address. The screen said eight minutes.
“Make a right out of the lot,” I said.
Beth hit the gas, backed from our parking spot, and left the hotel lot. I tried Maddox back but didn’t get an answer. My next call went to Disick. I told him what we had over at Gerrianne Walters’s house. He said that he’d leave Carroll and Comley to watch the bar and meet us there. I sent him the address and hung up.
I dipped my head and looked in the side mirror. The headlights from Scott and Bill’s rental car weren’t straying from our bumper. My phone showed a left coming up on Highway 84. “Left at the light,” I said.
The light was red. Beth stopped, looked, and with no cars coming, drove through the intersection. Bill and Scott followed. Beth got heavy on the gas pedal. The rental car’s little four-cylinder wailed.
“Half mile, hang a right on North Eleventh Street. Eleventh should be two blocks after a park,” I said.
“Yup.” The turn came, and Beth made it.
“Three blocks down on your left,” I said.
Beth nodded and kept the gas pinned. The first block passed then the next. She locked up the brakes at the address. The house, a small white single-story with red trim, was lit by a nearby streetlight. A car was parked sideways in the driveway, and another sat just in front of it. Both vehicles had driver’s-side doors ajar. There was no one in sight other than a couple of people standing outside their homes.
I clicked off my seat belt, pulled my service weapon from my shoulder holster, and threw open my door. Beth killed the motor and did the same.
“Someone was shooting,” a woman called out from her porch on our side of the street.
“Get back in the house,” Beth shouted at her.
By the time I was rounding the hood, Bill and Scott had skidded to a stop about fifty feet from our rear bumper. They were both out of the car with weapons drawn in a matter of seconds. I pointed at the house, and we stayed low and crossed the street.
Two guys were standing on their front stoop a pair of houses down, and Bill shouted for them to get inside.
We started up the driveway. The black sedan that was parked sideways in the driveway appeared to be blocking in Gerrianne Walters’s Mustang.
“I’ve got shell casings,” Scott said.
“Over here too.” Bill approached the Mustang. “I’ve got the back.”
Bill went to the rear of the house.
Scott hung back and watched the front of the place while Beth and I entered the garage. I’d already seen what was inside the garage as we’d walked up. A man lay dead in the open driver’s-side door of a gold Cadillac. It had to be the car that Maddox said pulled into the garage right before he reported the shots fired. I pointed at the door leading into the house, which stood open, and Beth put her aim on it. I walked to the man at the Cadillac but didn’t need to check for a pulse. He’d taken a couple of shots, one just under his right eye, which looked as if it was hanging out a bit. I was pretty sure I’d seen the guy before—he could have been someone from the bar.
Beth had aim inside the house from a position on the left side of the door leading in. I joined her on the right side, taking up my position. All the lights in the house were on, and a body lay on the ground just inside the door. Past the first body was the living room and what looked like another downed person. Beth put her face along the garage wall, clearly trying to get a look at the interior room to the right. She said the word “Clear” just above a whisper, and I went in. Beth came in immediately at my back.
The living room spread to our left, and a small dining area and the kitchen were straight ahead and to our right. A hallway stemmed off the right of the kitchen, leading deeper into the home. The downed man, just feet to my left, didn’t need checking on. He’d been shot in the head, and the mess on the wall a foot or two away told the extent of his injuries. I covered Beth as she went to check on the other downed person—a woman near the couch and coffee table. She had some tattoos on her, and I had a damn good hunch that I knew who she was. Beth came back with her weapon aimed in the direction of the hall.
“Gerrianne Walters,” she said. “Dead,” she added as she passed.
I followed Beth down the hallway. A bathroom came on our right with a spare bedroom to our left. We quickly cleared both. Three doors were at the hallway’s end, and the slats in one told us it was a closet. Beth pushed open the door to our right with her toe—it was another spare room that we quickly cleared.
We moved for the last door. Beth held up her hand, stopping me before we entered. I’d heard something—a voice. From what I could see into the room, it looked like some sliding patio doors were standing op
en.
“FBI. Show yourself!” I called.
“It’s Bill,” I heard back. “We’ve got an officer down.”
Beth and I passed through the bedroom, which looked like a master, and moved out of the open patio doors. The light coming from the house lit Bill, who was kneeling in the grass next to a man leaning up against a garden shed. Another three steps and I recognized him.
“Maddox,” I said as we rushed up. Blood was coming from his left leg, and there looked to be more coming from his left arm.
“It was Burr,” Maddox said. “He’s got a rifle. AR-15, maybe. He just opened up on me after I followed him outside from in the house. My vest caught a couple. My leg and arm caught the rest.”
“He was on foot?” I asked.
“Through the yards,” Maddox said. “He’s only got a minute or two on you guys. Go. I’ll be fine.”
“We’re not going to just leave you,” Beth said.
“I’ll stay with him,” Bill said. “You guys go.”
“Which way?” I asked.
Maddox winced and pointed.
Chapter 34
Chuck ran from one yard to the next, passing street after street. He had to be ten blocks from where he started. He sucked in big breaths of air. His side cramped. His heart banged against his ribs. He hadn’t run in years, and it was showing. Chuck needed to stop before he gave himself a heart attack—at least for enough time to catch his breath. Chuck crossed one last street and entered the yard of a little yellow bungalow. No lights were on inside, and no motion lights had lit his presence in the side yard. Chuck walked along the side of the garage—an old gas grill sat next to a couple of garbage cans and some random toys. A pile of landscaping blocks was stacked near the back of the garage. Chuck took a seat and propped up next to him the assault rifle that he’d been carrying. He adjusted the pistol in his waistline so it wasn’t digging into his stomach. Chuck put his hands on his knees and tried to slow his breathing.
“Shit.” He let out a breath.
Chuck knew he was on the clock—he needed to put as much distance as possible between him and Jerry’s house. He was sure the cop had called for backup before Chuck shot him—within minutes, the area would be crawling with cops. Chuck figured the feds wouldn’t be too far behind. He shook his head, annoyed that he hadn’t just circled around the house and taken the cop’s car—he could have been a few miles up the road.
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