Reilly reached out a hand to stop Hawk from going any further. He hunched down and tugged the other man down too.
“We can’t just go up to the front door and knock,” he whispered furiously.
“Of course not,” said Hawk. He pointed. “We come up from the back. You have the gun, you go first.”
“Okay,” said Reilly. It was a good plan, but it meant they had to go into the woods and leave the road, and Reilly found that the thought of going between those dense tree trunks filled him with dread. He couldn’t falter, however. Wren needed him. Still staying low, he crept across the road and into the woods.
Hawk was right at his back.
They moved slowly through the woods, doing their best not to make noise. Of course, with the dead leaves on the ground and the multitude of branches sticking out haphazardly, it wasn’t possible to be completely quiet. However, he didn’t think they did anything to announce their presence. They were quiet enough.
The cabin was completely still and quiet.
Reilly began to wonder if there was even anything inside.
Worse, he began to think about something moving behind its dark windows, something antlered, made of black smoke and ash, something with blackened teeth.
He shook himself. He wasn’t going to let that stupid god of the Children get to him. It was all in his head.
When they finally got close to the cabin, he drew his gun.
They crept up towards the house, both in a crouch, moving as stealthily as they could.
When he reached the side of the house, he inched his way up, bringing his gun with him, to peer in the window.
But he couldn’t see anything. It was too dark, and the window was cloudy and dirty.
“Well?” whispered Hawk.
He only shook his head.
Hawk inched up to try to look in the window himself. But in a moment, he came back down, also shaking his head. He motioned that Reilly should keep going.
So, Reilly did, creeping up around the corner of the front of the house, to the half-collapsed porch. The wood was bloated and gray. He didn’t see how it could even take anyone’s weight, even on the part still standing.
But he crawled up onto the porch, Hawk right behind him.
His gun at the ready, he tried the doorknob.
It turned in his hand, and the door creaked open.
From behind him, the distinct sound of a shotgun being pumped. “Not even going to knock, Detective Reilly? That’s pretty rude.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Reilly stilled, going tense and ready. He waited to hear a sound, to see something out of the corner of his eye, anything that would indicate movement, and when it happened, he sprang up, turning, leveling his gun to shoot.
But the shotgun went off instead, and it startled him.
He pulled the trigger, but he wasn’t aiming at anything, and at the same moment, a hole splintered through the door, inches from his head.
“Now, look what you made me do,” said Baldwin’s voice. Movement, streaking through the darkness, and Baldwin had kicked Reilly’s gun out of his hand.
Reilly recoiled, bringing his hand back against his chest out of instinct. He was stung, but not badly hurt.
Hawk launched himself into Baldwin, uttering some kind of strangled noise.
Baldwin screeched, turning the shotgun and mashing the butt of it into Hawk’s noise.
Hawk grunted.
Baldwin struck again, harder.
Hawk slid to the ground, unconscious.
Baldwin brought up the shotgun, aiming at Reilly. “Hands on your head, Detective.”
Reilly put his hands on his head. He glanced down at Hawk, also looking to see if he could spy his gun anywhere. It had skittered off into the darkness. He had no idea where it was.
“You got a cell phone?” said Baldwin. “A walkie-talkie? A beeper? Anything you got, you hand it over to me.”
Reilly sighed. He gave him his phone. He didn’t have anything else on him to call this in. He wasn’t even officially here. “Where’s Wren?”
“Who?” said Baldwin.
“Come on,” said Reilly. “Wren Delacroix. You took her.”
“You think I’m a fucking idiot?” said Baldwin. “All I wanted to do was get out of here clean. I didn’t take anyone. I’m holing up in this cabin until I can get fake papers, not that I’ll be able to use them now, not with you here. I don’t even know what to do. I could kill you, but they’re all coming, I imagine.”
“You don’t have Wren?” said Reilly.
“Shut the fuck up,” said Baldwin, jamming the shotgun into Reilly’s cheek.
Reilly’s voice died in his throat. His heart was starting to pound. This was bad. This was all bad. He didn’t understand how he kept ending up in these shitty situations. Just a few weeks ago, he’d been held captive in Kyler Morris’s basement, at gunpoint. Now, here he was outside this hunting cabin, at the other end of a gun.
During the whole span of his career before this, he’d never been held at gunpoint once.
This task force job, it was intense.
“If I kill you, then they’ll never stop hunting me down,” said Baldwin, more to himself than to anyone else. “Then I’ll be a cop killer. A guy who held up a liquor store, they might forget about him. But a cop killer, never. So, damn it, I can’t kill you.” He moved the shotgun away. “Okay, okay.” He gestured with the barrel toward Hawk. “Go through his pockets, give me his phone and everything else.”
Reilly sighed. “Look, you just said you weren’t going to kill me. So, what if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll shoot off your damned hand, Detective,” said Baldwin. “Don’t think I won’t.”
Whatever. Did he want to make going through Hawk’s pockets his line in the sand? Pushing Baldwin probably wasn’t smart, especially considering that he didn’t have Wren at all. So, whatever was going on here, it didn’t have anything to do with Baldwin. But that meant that there was something else out there, and he was going to be preoccupied with this Baldwin business.
Everything was shit.
And he was more worried about Wren than ever.
Also, Baldwin really might kill him, and Reilly wasn’t particularly interested in dying. So, he knelt down and stuck his hands in Hawk’s pockets.
Hawk twitched.
Reilly fished out Hawk’s cell phone and his wallet. He handed them over to Baldwin.
Hawk’s eyes opened just barely.
“Damn it, why did you have to come out here at all?” Baldwin was saying. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone? Why do you have such a hard-on for me, Reilly?”
“You know, it really wasn’t about you,” said Reilly. “I thought you captured someone I work with. She’s sort of like my partner. Here’s the truth, Baldwin, I’m more concerned about saving her than bringing you in. So, if you let me go, you’d get a hell of a head start.”
Baldwin snorted. “Yeah, right. Like there aren’t squad cars on their way right now.”
“No,” said Reilly. “No one else knows I’m here.” He was probably making a mistake giving up that information.
“I don’t believe you,” said Baldwin. “You’d do anything to get me locked back up.”
“I do want you locked up,” said Reilly. “But in terms of priorities, she’s ahead of you. Come on, make a run for it. I won’t follow you.”
“You must think I’m a real idiot,” said Baldwin.
“If I actually had people coming for you, why would I be telling you to run?”
Baldwin didn’t answer that. Maybe he couldn’t puzzle it out. Maybe Reilly should be careful not to get too complicated. It might only make Baldwin angry.
“Maybe you’re telling the truth,” Baldwin murmured. “But if that’s the case, then I might as well kill you. No one would know who did it.”
Shit. “They’d know. This is your family’s land. When they find the remains, they’d know it was you.” He couldn’t bring himself to
say my remains.
“Who says they’d find anything?” said Baldwin. “I think I could hide two bodies in the woods.”
Reilly swallowed.
“All right, Reilly,” said Baldwin. “You got anything you want to say? I’m not a total dick. You get your last words.”
“Come on, Baldwin. Just go. You know what you said before, about being hunted down as a cop killer? Well, you might think you can get away from that, but when a cop dies, the police don’t just let that go.”
“Those your last words?” said Baldwin. “Fine. Wake up your buddy, see if he has anything to say.”
“Oh, I’m awake,” said Hawk, sitting up.
Baldwin wrenched the barrel of the shotgun to point it at Hawk. “Over there,” he said, his voice tight. “Over there next to him.”
“So, it’s easier for you to kill us both?” said Hawk. “I don’t think so.”
“Listen, you asshole, you better move, or I am going to blow your head off.”
“And after I move, you’re going to blow my head off, am I right?”
“Fuck,” growled Baldwin.
Hawk laughed softly. “It’s Colt, right? Colt Baldwin?”
“So, you know my name. What? You want a prize?”
“My name’s Hawk,” said Hawk.
“Look, if you think introducing yourself is going to make it harder for me to blow you away—”
“Why’d you escape?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You didn’t really think you were going to get away, did you?”
“I would have gotten away, if it weren’t for you fucks. And after I kill you two, I’ll be gone from this place. I’ll be free.”
“No, you won’t,” said Hawk. “You’ll never be free. You’ll spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even if you get away, you won’t know how long it’ll last. What kind of life is that, anyway? Always ready to run at a moment’s notice? Can’t form any lasting bonds with anyone. And without someone to share it with, what is life even worth?”
“Shut up,” said Baldwin. “If you don’t shut up—”
“You’ll blow my head off, yes, I understand. You’ve made yourself very clear. But I don’t think I’m the one you should shoot.”
“What? You want me to kill Reilly here?” Baldwin snorted. “Some buddy you got here, Reilly.”
Reilly was listening to this exchange feeling a building anticipation, almost dread. Something was happening, and he wondered if he should be stopping it. He wasn’t even trying. He was only listening to the hypnotic cadence of Hawk’s words.
Hawk’s voice was like silk. “Not him either. I think, if you really examine the situation here, you’ll see that there’s only one thing you can do. You don’t have any good options, do you? You can kill us, and then go on the run, and eventually someone will hunt you down and put you back in jail. And all the time in between will be nothing but the uncertainty of when. It will goad you, haunt your dreams, and you will never feel a moment’s peace.”
“Stop,” said Baldwin again, and his voice wasn’t as strong as it had been.
“You can turn yourself in,” said Hawk. “Go back to your cell. Live inside the concrete with the rage of the other men and wait for your few hours of sunlight each day. Live a life in which you dream of trees and flowers and the sky, but in which your spirit is smothered by being captured. After you’ve escaped like this, you know they’ll never let you out, so you’ll go back and you’ll stay there. When you die, you will have already been dead for a long time.”
And then it was quiet.
The seconds ticked by and there was no sound except the wind and the distant chirp of insects in the woods.
“So?” Baldwin finally whispered. “So, what’s the one thing I can do?”
“Turn the gun on yourself,” said Hawk in a low voice. “It’s better, you see? It’ll all be over in one quick moment. It’ll be on your terms. And it’s the only way you’ll ever be free. Death is all you have now. You can die slow, a life of suffering, or you can take the easy way out now. Put the gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. And then, instead of wishing to see the sky, you’ll be the sky.”
Reilly swallowed hard.
Baldwin let out something like a sob. “I’m going to shoot you.”
“Are you?” breathed Hawk.
“Yes,” Baldwin said.
And then the gun went off.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Baldwin thudded against the ground, the back of his head blown out, a gaping hole that glistened in the darkness. The air smelled like blood and meat and smoke.
Reilly let out a throaty yell.
Hawk stepped over Baldwin’s body, reaching down to take his gun.
“Don’t,” Reilly said.
Hawk paused, looking up at him.
“Don’t. It’s evidence. You don’t need it. Wren’s not here. He’s not a threat anymore.”
Hawk hesitated.
“Don’t,” said Reilly again. And then, realizing it: “I’ve got to call this in.” A man was dead. Another man was dead, and this was going to be so much paperwork. Also, he wasn’t sure, but maybe he was going to have to see the shrink double. Did watching a man commit suicide have the same sentence as shooting one?
“Well, he’s got our phones,” said Hawk. He moved, but he didn’t pick up the gun. Instead, he extricated their cell phones from Baldwin’s pocket. He handed Reilly his and stuck his own in his pocket.
“You convinced him to kill himself.”
“Can’t convince someone to do something like that,” said Hawk. “They have to already want it.”
“Yeah, okay, how’d you know he wanted to commit suicide?” Reilly got to his feet. His legs were shaking.
“Didn’t,” said Hawk. “Guess I just got lucky.”
“He’s dead.”
“Do you care?”
“Yes, I care. A man just shot himself in front of us—”
“He was going to kill us.”
“He said he was, he talked big, but—”
“He’d killed people before, right? That’s why he was locked up?”
“Well, it was different. He panicked. He was trying to rob the store. It wasn’t pre-meditated.”
“And this would have been different how?”
“This doesn’t bother you at all?” Reilly was incredulous.
“Didn’t say that,” said Hawk, and his voice cracked a little.
Reilly looked down at his phone. He unlocked it with his fingerprint. “I need to call this in.”
“I was outside the Walker Massacre,” Hawk said in a low voice. “I could see through the windows. I saw Lexi shoot the little boy. He was screaming. His mother was on her feet. She put him behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her back. And then Lexi shot his mom, and he screamed and screamed. Then she shot him, right in the… the face. Right under his—”
“Stop,” said Reilly.
“I guess I got desensitized young.”
Reilly shut his eyes.
It was quiet again, and he could still hear the insects chattering, but the scent of blood left its acrid tang in the night air, and Reilly still felt cold. Where the hell was Wren?
“Did you learn that from her?” Reilly found himself suddenly saying, and he didn’t know why he was saying it.
“What are you talking about?”
“Convincing him to shoot himself,” said Reilly. “Did you learn that from Vivian Delacroix?”
No response.
Reilly waited, and then he unlocked his phone again. The screen had gone blank again in the interim. He pulled up his phone app and punched in numbers. He put the phone to his ear, but there was only silence.
“He was going to kill us,” Hawk said. “And I didn’t do it. He did it himself.”
Reilly yanked the phone away from his ear. What was wrong? Hell, there wasn’t any service out h
ere, was there? “We need to go back to the car,” he said. “I’ve got a radio in the car. No cell service out here.”
“I didn’t do it,” said Hawk.
“No,” Reilly agreed. “You didn’t.”
* * *
It was hours later that Wren finally realized that she could bend the tree without trying to rip it free of its roots. At the bottom, down here where it was secured, it wasn’t very flexible, but up top, it was much more pliable. She bent the tree over to the other side of the well, and it caught on the rope ladder right away.
She was exhausted at this point, but this success was so exciting that it galvanized her, and she kept going, forcing her sore muscles to continue to work, biting down on her lip as she concentrated.
She wasn’t sure how long it took. It felt like it was quick, maybe only ten minutes, but she had no real sense of time out here.
Then the rope ladder tumbled all the way down to her, and she pulled on it, testing it, thinking how horrible it would be if it weren’t secured…
Except it was, and she started to climb.
She climbed and climbed and reached the top and crawled out of the well.
When she got out, she worried that Oliver would be there, that he’d been sitting around watching her, laughing as she tried so hard to escape, and that he would simply put his foot into her chest, and she’d go tumbling back down into the well, her stomach floating during the free fall.
But no one was there.
She lay flat on the ground next to the well and panted and was so happy to be free that she didn’t even know how to deal with the emotion.
But she couldn’t stay here. She had no idea when Oliver would be back. She had to go. Of course, she didn’t know where she was. The well was in a clearing, but all around were trees. She was in the middle of the woods somewhere.
She forced herself to get to her feet and start walking again.
Walking hurt.
She was tired. She was bone tired. She had never felt this tired. It was amazing she could move, but she had to move, so she did.
She picked a random direction and walked that way, into the woods.
She hadn’t walked for long before she noted that sky was lightening. Dawn was on its way. It gave her hope, it kindled within her the will to keep moving, even through her soul-crushing exhaustion.
Wren Delacroix Series Box Set Page 35