by Ken Benton
Their quarry made a sudden turn off the road again, this time onto a mostly-flat section of land. What was he up to now? There wasn’t much structure around, just a few patches of thin trees. Did he really want to make his final stand on open ground? Or was he heading for the nearby mountains?
Malcolm noticed something else as he left the road: he ran over a downed fence line. They must be on a private plot now. If that happened to be the only spot where the fence was down, the gang leader might be about to cage himself.
Now there was uneven ground to have to deal with, including a multitude of annoying mounds. Malcolm was forced to slow. These bumps were probably molehills. Man, they were all over the place.
And then he was on flat ground again. Suddenly an obstruction came up before him. He was forced to let off the throttle. No time to brake. Malcolm pulled the front wheel up. Kerplunk. They were now riding across a concrete slab.
Kerplunk. They were off it. Malcolm hit the gas, but had to swerve to avoid a metal obstruction coming out of the earth.
The gang leader had gained ground. He shortly slowed, however, allowing Malcolm precious time to catch up—so much, in fact, that Malcolm also slowed, wary of a trap. Their quarry was now riding slowly, up and down over mounds, as if he were searching for something.
Then he laid the bike down. Malcolm hit the brake. The next thing he knew the rider was up in the air—but only for a moment. Then he vanished completely.
Malcolm gave it gas again, but drove to a spot a safe distance from where the gang leader disappeared. Was he lying in the grass waiting for them?
No. Malcolm saw the situation now. It was just as he had imagined. The property line was fenced back here. The gang leader had been forced to ditch the bike and hop the fence.
“Do you see him?” Malcolm asked Hannah. They both jumped off the bike.
Hannah hesitated. “Yes!” she finally said. “Oh, what a fool. Lucky for us. He’s running in the open. Come on!”
Malcolm spotted him. He was in the open, all right—but there was a house directly beyond him. No way could Malcolm and Hannah catch him before he made it there. Malcolm prayed no one was home.
Hannah was first over the fence. By the time Malcolm caught up with her, she had slowed—but only because of a creek. It was up to her knees as she crossed it. This must be Otter Creek. Where the heck did Malcolm know that name from?
Malcolm made his away across and then lengthened his stride to try and catch Hannah. He did, which was an impressive accomplishment for someone navigating molehills and wearing jeans wet from the knees down.
The suspect neared the house. Malcolm decided to fire two rounds from his pistol. Hannah glared at him when he did.
“Keep watching your feet!” he said to her. “I just wanted to warn the homeowners.”
“Good thinking.” Hannah fired two rounds of her own.
But would that be enough? The thought of additional innocent victims getting caught in this goose chase was sickening. Was there anything else Malcolm could do?
At that moment, Malcolm noticed a weight bouncing in his shirt pocket. He knew what it was: Emma’s whistle. He retrieved it, allowing Hannah to pull out in front of him again. Two seconds later it was in his mouth. Malcolm began blowing, over and over, the best he could while still keeping up a decent pace. But the loss of breath slowed him even further. Soon Hannah was uncomfortably ahead of him again.
It was worth it. A figure appeared on the porch of the house, just before the gang leader reached it. Better yet, the figure held a firearm. The next sound Malcolm heard was a shotgun blast.
The gang leader made a sudden left turn before the house. He now ran back in the direction of the road. Hannah turned likewise. Malcolm decided to keep running straight, since he was getting behind in the chase, to try and come from a different angle.
But there was one thing he didn’t consider. The homeowner had no way of knowing who the bad guys were in this situation, and he showed it by firing another shell—this one in Malcolm’s direction. He was still too far away to be much of a threat, but it did force Malcolm to turn sooner than he intended.
Malcolm blew on the whistle again and yelled, “Federal agents!” He wasn’t sure if that would keep the shotgun blasts at bay, but it was worth a try.
When he turned back to the chase, the gang leader was nowhere in sight.
Neither was Hannah.
“Hannah!” Malcolm yelled.
A shot fired at Malcolm from the grass. He heard the crack of a bullet whizzing by, too close. Malcolm crouched in reaction, and began duck-stepping his way forward.
Then another shot fired—this one from Malcolm’s left. That one must be from Hannah, aimed at the grass where the first shot came from.
Another fired back at her in response. It came from slightly to the right of his original position. The gang leader was shooting and moving.
Malcolm and Hannah did the same. Malcolm fired back, and scurried away from the spot quickly. A shot came back at where he had just been, from a new place. Hannah then fired at the new place, which shot back at her new position from an even newer spot.
The gunfight became methodical. Malcolm understood the importance of each shot at this juncture, and also how critical it was that he move quickly after firing. By the time he and Hannah each fired a half dozen rounds from the grass, all three of their positions had changed radically.
They were also much closer together.
“End of the road!” Hannah suddenly shouted. “Give it up!”
What the heck was she thinking? Her only answer was more gunfire. But one of the shots sounded different. Malcolm thought he detected the thud of an impact in something solid.
“Dammit!” Hannah shrieked.
It was all the prodding Malcolm needed. He rose from the grass and made a dash for the enemy’s last revealed position, staying hunched over the best he could.
The gang leader took another shot at Hannah after she yelled. That gave Malcolm a decent fix on him. He let loose with a barrage, unsure of how many rounds he had left in the XD-9’s 16-round magazine.
It took the gang leader by surprise. The big man suddenly showed himself, up from the weeds. He wasn’t exactly where Malcolm thought he would be, but he was close. Malcolm saw the barrel of his gun and dove, exchanging fire.
Three rapid shots then came from behind the gang leader. These sounded more controlled than all the previous. Hannah must have had her adversary lined up as an easy target.
“I got him!” Hannah yelled. “You all right, Malcolm?”
Malcolm wasn’t sure at first. He felt a pain in his side, but it wasn’t deep. Upon further inspection it turned out to be a bruise from a rock he landed on when he dove.
“Yeah, I’m all right.” Malcolm picked himself up. “What about you?”
“Took one in the armor. Stings like the devil.”
Malcolm jogged to her side. She was still covering the downed gang leader, but he wasn’t moving. His pistol lay three inches from his hand. Malcolm stepped on his hand, twisted his heel on his knuckles, and then kicked the gun away.
The gang leader didn’t move. Hannah lowered her weapon and began loosening her body armor.
Malcolm came to her side. “Honey, you sure you’re all right?”
“I will be. The last time this happened it took a few days before…” Hannah looked at Malcolm and smiled sheepishly.
Malcolm only shook his head.
“Drop your weapons!” a voice said from behind. “Now!”
Malcolm turned around. The homeowner stood right behind them, shotgun raised. Next to him was a woman, probably his wife, also holding a shotgun. How did they get this close?
“Easy!” Malcolm said. He dropped his pistol and put his hands up. Hannah dropped her weapon as well, but continued to fool with the straps on the bullet-proof vest under her shirt.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the man said.
Hannah responded by rollin
g her shirt up. “I’m a federal agent.”
“We’ll see about that.” The man stepped forward. He wore glasses, a baseball cap, and a red flannel shirt. It was too hot for flannel shirts today. But he was evidently a senior citizen, and Malcolm knew they tended to run cold. His wife looked about the same age, though her dark hair showed no signs of gray. But she had a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The gun she held looked a lot like Ryan’s 20-gauge.
“Let me show you my ID,” Hannah said. She looked at the man before moving further. “All right?”
The man nodded and lowered his gun little.
Hannah felt her pockets and then cursed. “I must have lost it during the chase.”
Up came the shotgun again.
“I have mine,” Malcolm said.
The man turned to him. “Are you a federal agent, too?”
“No. I’m her husband.”
No reaction.
“Listen to me,” Hannah said with surprising authority. “My name is Special Agent Hannah Lane Carter. I work out of the New York City Secret Service field office, but I’m currently on special assignment with the Pittsburgh field office. The suspect on the ground there is a counterfeiter and home invasion robber, responsible for the deaths of two homeowners in Salem last week, and another assault this morning in Pennsboro. Not to mention the murder of one federal agent and the shootings of two others.”
Hannah suddenly dropped her bullet-proof vest to the ground. “Damn this hurts.” She pulled her shirt up high to reveal an unattractive welt on her rib cage, just under her left breast. “Might have cracked a rib.”
The woman spoke. “Seymour, I believe her.”
Seymour. Otter Creek Road. Malcolm’s mind started racing.
“Are you Seymour and Tina Clayton?” Malcolm asked.
Seymour pointed his shotgun back at Malcolm. “Now how in Sam Hill would you happen to know that?”
“You have a piece of land for sale, also on this road?” Malcolm pointed next door. “It’s that lot right there, isn’t it?”
Seymour exchanged confused looks with Tina.
“My name is Malcolm Carter. New York City. Forty-eight thousand was a fair price. We had a deal.”
Seymour stared back at Malcolm.
“Any of this ring a bell, Mr. Clayton?”
* * *
The title company officer seemed happy to have some business to conduct, but also seemed a little perplexed by it. She kept giving Malcolm and Hannah strange looks, especially when Hannah put her hand under her shirt to hold her bruise.
“All right,” the title officer said. “I have confirmation that eighty thousand dollars in USD has been transferred to your account, Mr. and Mrs. Clayton. I’ll just need you all to sign above your names on these last two documents.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Probably too late to record today, but should be done first thing tomorrow morning.”
Malcolm went first. “Here?” he asked.
“Yes,” the title officer replied. “And please initial in these three places.”
Seymour took the documents from Malcolm when he finished.
“Thanks for being willing to renegotiate the contract,” Malcolm said. “From what we’ve been told about the new gold standard, the adjustment in price seems fair.”
“It’s more than fair.” Seymour glanced at Malcolm in between signatures. “Prices on everything are supposed to adjust to more than twice what they were before the crisis. I’ll concede to a reasonable degree of uncertainty in that, and also to the fact we did accept your offer at the beginning of the crisis, after the sudden inflation had initially begun. But mostly we’re willing to do this because we get the feeling you two will be the kind of neighbors that are good to have.”
Malcolm chuckled. “We’ll try to live up to your expectations.”
Hannah had been quiet up to this point. When everything was done, she spoke to the title officer.
“May I use your phone? I need to report a crime scene.”
The title officer tilted her head.
Hannah leaned forward. “Two, actually.”
Chapter Twenty Eight
The sight of Sheriff Deputy Schultz getting out of his squad car made Malcolm nervous. Hannah didn’t appear bothered by his arrival, though.
Ryan’s two sons, on the other hand, were excited over the visitor. They were having a sword fight with sticks, something Jean told them to stop doing more than once already. The younger broke away and ran up to greet the police officer.
Malcolm and Hannah stepped off the freshly-built porch and walked towards him as well.
Deputy Shultz gave the boy fifteen seconds of courteous play, which alleviated some of Malcolm’s apprehension. He seemed to be in a casual mood. By the time he stood before Malcolm and Hannah, Ryan had joined them.
“You have walls,” Deputy Shultz said. “Or half-walls, anyway. Always fun to watch a real log cabin go up.”
“Yes.” Ryan looked behind him briefly. When his face returned it was beaming. “With any luck, we’ll be living in her by autumn. Boys, go see what Mom’s making for lunch.”
The younger of Ryan’s son’s obeyed immediately. The older made a protesting facial expression before following his brother to the trailer.
“How’s the shoulder?” Deputy Schultz asked.
“Good as new.” Ryan moved his arm around in a full circle, only flinching in pain at the very end. It was a noticeable improvement from a few weeks ago.
“Great.” The deputy motioned towards the road. “I wanted you all to know I’m locking up your friend’s property today. So if you have anything over there still, you need to move it.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said, “but we got the last of everything out of there last week.” He pointed to the new barn, the shade of which his construction workers were currently sitting in eating lunch. “It’s all yours.”
The deputy nodded.
“How long will it take?” Hannah asked him. “Before Ryan and Jean have new neighbors, I mean?”
Deputy Schultz shrugged. “Impossible to tell. The state isn’t exactly known for expediency in such matters. A shame he had no heirs. I can let y’all know when the auction is, if you’re interested in bidding.”
Ryan looked at Malcolm and raised his eyebrows.
Malcolm put his arm around Hannah. “We have our own place, and our own new neighbors. Not too far away. And there’s a good tavern on the highway an equal distance between us.”
“Ah, the Wild and Wonderful Saloon.” Deputy Schultz removed his sunglasses. “I know it well. Good burgers. Don’t stay too late, and don’t let me catch you driving out of there after drinking too much.”
He then looked back and forth between Ryan and Hannah. “Would you excuse us a few minutes?” Deputy Schultz said to Ryan.
Ryan frowned.
“You can walk us to our car,” Hannah said. “We were just leaving. Only stopped by on our way back from visiting Spence. We have our own construction crew to micro-manage.”
“See you Sunday,” Malcolm said to Ryan.
Ryan nodded and headed for the trailer, where one of his boys had just reemerged. Malcolm, Hannah, and Deputy Schultz walked up the driveway towards Malcolm’s new red Jeep. When they were safely out of Ryan’s earshot, Deputy Schultz spoke to Hannah.
“My office attempted to contact you through your New York field office. We were informed that you are no longer in active service?”
“That’s correct.” Hannah flipped her hair to one side. “It’s best to call my cell phone if you need me. I’ll give you the new number. And you know where we live.”
“Agent Carter, I want to express my personal regrets over any disciplinary actions you may have received. It was never my intention to throw you under the bus. In fact, you’re considered something of a hero by all the deputies at my station. I certainly put nothing in my report of any personal effect, other than admiration for a job well-done. I was, however, forced to report all the facts…�
�
“Of course,” Hannah said. “Don’t concern yourself, Deputy. My early retirement was arrived at by mutual consent. It’s as much my idea as it is theirs.”
“Good. It does make me feel better to know that. Did you have a nice visit with your friend this morning?”
“Oh yes. He’s in a beautiful spot.” Hannah looked to the west.
“Right next to his wife,” Malcolm added. “On a hill with a grand view of Parkersburg.”
“Glad to hear it. Well, I better start securing his property. Have a nice afternoon.”
“You too, officer.”
Deputy Schultz got back in his squad car and backed out the driveway. Malcolm and Hannah followed him in the Jeep as far as Spence’s driveway. When the deputy turned in, Malcolm kept driving straight.
“I hope you aren’t still blaming yourself for what happened,” Malcolm said.
“How can I not, Malcolm? But I’m learning to live with it. Please save your speech. I’ve heard it for the last two and a half months now, and it has yet to help.”
“All right, honey. No more speeches. Remember what I told you. I’m determined to be a better man.”
“Thank you.”
Malcolm drove through town and turned onto the eastbound Highway 50 onramp before speaking again.
“I admit to being more than a little relieved when Deputy Schultz wasn’t still mad at us. Maybe my nightmares where he comes to arrest us will stop now. So, the cops at his station all think you’re a hero. How about that?”
“Mmph.”
Malcolm laughed. “Too bad the Secret Service doesn’t share their sentiments.”
“Do you really think that’s too bad, Malcolm? Before you answer, consider your ‘better man’ oath. Good husbands don’t lie.”
“In that case I’ll take the fifth. But it’s true that I want to support you in every way I can. As long as…”
“As long as what?”
“It doesn’t take you away from me. When I thought I was losing you I… was miserable, honey. The only way I could deal with it was by living in denial.”
“Maybe it wasn’t complete denial. After all, I never filed the papers.”