Landry pointed the gun at Lesley.
“Only this time it’ll happen to her.”
Rob tasted bile in the back of his throat.
“Please,” he said. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“Then tell me the keyword,” Landry said. “Now.”
Rob opened his mouth to explain, but couldn’t think of anything that would improve the situation.
“I know what it is,” Lesley said.
Landry raised one bemused eyebrow.
“Do you now?” he said. “And would you care to share?”
“It’s lesley89.”
Rob blinked in surprise, then realized it made sense. Just one more facet of Tim’s obsession.
“Spell it,” Landry said.
She did.
“No blanks, hyphens, anything like that?”
“I … don’t know,” Lesley said.
Landry looked unimpressed.
“How about it, Rob? She telling the truth?”
“I guess so,” Rob said, then kicked himself mentally. He should have backed her up with more assurance.
“What does that mean?” Landry said. “Is that the keyword or not?”
“He doesn’t know,” Lesley said.
Landry’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Tim was the one who messed up the bank accounts,” she said. “He admitted it to me. Rob had nothing to do with it.”
Landry glared at each of them in turn as he seemed to consider this.
“This Tim guy,” he said. “He was here, right?”
“Yes,” Lesley said.
Landry glowered at Rob. “You said it was just the two of you.”
Rob’s throat closed in with dryness.
“He left,” Rob said.
Landry’s arm swung up suddenly in Lesley’s direction and the gun went off with an earsplitting blast.
“No,” Rob screamed, his heart hammering.
Lesley remained upright. To Rob’s stunned disbelief she didn’t seem to be injured. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps.
“I will get the truth before I leave here,” Landry said. “I promise you that.”
He stood up and walked over to Lesley, who shrank back into the chair as much as she could. She looked wildly at Rob, her eyes imploring him to do something, then back at Landry.
“You don’t have to do this,” Rob said. “You already know the keyword.”
“That so?” Landry said.
He whipped a vicious backhand at Lesley’s head, catching her on the side of the face. She cried out and her face screwed up in agony. Rob emitted a strangled moan of anguish.
“Any time now, Rob,” Landry said, raising his arm again.
But this time the blow didn’t fall. From outside they heard the insistent drone of a car engine pushed hard. As the sound grew louder, a rectangle of light shone through the window onto the back wall of the cabin. Judging by the way the light bounced on the wall, the car was moving fast.
“You told me you weren’t expecting anyone,” Landry said, shooting a venomous glance at Rob.
They heard the car scrunch to a stop outside the cabin. Landry moved quickly to stand inside the wooden cabin door as a car door slammed and rapid footsteps approached. He had one hand on the doorknob and the nine-millimeter ready for action as pounding erupted on the door.
Landry yanked the door inwards and shoved his gun in the face of a very startled looking Stan Dysart.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
LESLEY GASPED AT the sight of her uncle in the doorway. Why on earth would he be out here?
Dysart’s look of astonishment transformed into an angry scowl. He pushed Landry’s gun hand aside and said, “Get that thing out of my—”
In a blur Landry knocked Dysart’s hands away, grabbed him by the shirt front, hauled him inside and pinned him against the wall. The color drained from Dysart’s face as the snout of the pistol nestled against one of his nostrils.
Neither man spoke for a few moments. Finally Landry said, “Who are you?”
Dysart’s eyes left the pistol and scanned the room. His eyes widened when he saw Lesley. He looked back at Landry with defiance once again lining his features.
“You leave her alone,” Dysart said.
Landry gave him an angry shove, stepped back and stood glaring at him, the pistol still trained on Dysart. Lesley got the impression Landry was trying to decide what to do with the new arrival.
“Lesley,” Dysart said, “are you all—”
“Shut up,” Landry said. He looked at Lesley. “Who is he?”
Lesley licked her lips. She looked at her uncle, then back at Landry.
“I’m her uncle,” Dysart said, his voice full of impatience.
An ironic grin creased Landry’s face. “You’re the bank president.”
It was as much a statement as a question. Dysart just glared at him.
“Then you’ll be interested in what we were just talking about,” Landry said. “Lesley here was trying to convince me that she knows how to fix the problems at your bank.”
“Tim was behind it, not Rob,” Lesley said. “He told me the keyword and—”
Landry whipped the gun around to point at Lesley.
“Did I say you could talk?” he said.
“I want to hear what she has to say,” Dysart said.
Landry’s smile didn’t touch his eyes.
“Oh, you’ll hear all right. If you’re stupid enough to stumble in where you don’t belong, then you can stay and watch. Lesley and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”
A stab of fear shot through Lesley’s gut.
Dysart started from the wall.
“But there’s no need to—”
The gun flashed in Dysart’s direction again.
“I’ll decide what’s needed and what’s not,” Landry said.
He backed toward the still-open door and indicated with his gun that Dysart should walk toward the table.
“Grab a chair and have a seat,” Landry said.
Landry started to reach behind himself for the door. Lesley’s mouth dropped open when she saw Tim appear outside the doorway and level his shotgun at the middle of Landry’s back.
“Move and you’re dead,” Tim said.
Landry froze. His head was twisted around far enough so he could see the shotgun.
“Drop it,” Tim said.
Landry’s mouth curled into a mask of hatred. He didn’t move.
“So I shoot you instead,” Tim said. “Doesn’t matter to me.”
Landry bent over slowly and placed the nine-millimeter at his feet.
When Landry was upright again Tim said, “Now kick it away from yourself.”
Landry did so. Leo gave chase as the pistol skittered across the linoleum and ended up behind Rob’s chair. Once he caught up with it, however, the kitten gave it a tentative sniff and backed away without touching it.
“Move away from the door,” Tim said.
Landry started walking toward Lesley.
“Stay away from her,” Tim yelled, his words slurring slightly.
Landry stopped.
“Over by the wall.”
Landry did as he was told. The look on his face reminded Lesley of a cornered Doberman waiting for the right moment to attack.
Lesley’s heart lurched when Tim’s toe caught on the door sill as he started inside. He stumbled and the tip of the shotgun dipped toward the floor. Before Landry could move, however, Tim recovered his balance and once again pointed the barrel at him.
Tim surveyed the room. His face reddened when he looked at Lesley. He jerked his head in Landry’s direction. “He give you that bruise?”
Lesley said nothing. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she made Tim any angrier than he already looked. And what if Landry regained the upper hand?
“Are you going to untie us, or what?” Rob said.
Tim ignored him. Instead his eyes narrowed as he glared at Landry.
Dysart started t
oward Rob. “I’ll do it,” he said, but stopped when Tim swung the shotgun around at him.
“No way,” Tim said. “He can stay right where he is. Untie Lesley.”
Dysart looked at Tim as if trying to determine his intentions.
“Do it!” Tim said.
Lesley was soon free from the chair. She rubbed her wrists as she stood up, unsure what to do.
Tim looked at her and said, “You get behind me.”
Lesley blinked. Her heart hammered as she jerked her head sideways to look at Rob, then back at Tim.
“Tim,” she said, “please.”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“But Rob is still—”
“Get behind me or I’ll try this shotgun out on Rob.”
Lesley swallowed dryly. The crazed look in Tim’s eyes left her with no doubt that he meant what he said. She scuttled around the room in a semi-circle, staying as far from Landry as possible.
“Your turn,” Tim said to Landry. He indicated the chair Lesley had just vacated. “Plant yourself down.”
Dysart backed away from the chair. Landry stayed where he was.
“At three I shoot,” Tim said, sighting down the barrel at Landry. “One … two …”
“All right, all right,” Landry said.
He walked over and sat.
Tim moved to the table, picked up the duct tape and tossed it over Landry’s head to Dysart.
“You can do the honors,” Tim said.
Dysart wound a couple of half-hearted loops around Landry’s chest and arms.
“More,” Tim said. “Down near his wrists, too.”
Dysart went to work again, then backed away when Tim said, “Okay, that’s enough.”
Tim strode over and smashed the stock of the shotgun across the side of Landry’s head. Lesley’s hands flew to her mouth as Landry absorbed the impact with a grunt.
“That’s for hurting my girl,” Tim said.
My girl. A cold dread swept through Lesley.
Tim looked at Dysart.
“And I owe you one, Stan. I was sitting by the highway trying to decide what to do when I saw you go whizzing by. I just had to know why you were headed way out here. Only thing I could figure, you must have thought you were going to save Lesley from disgracing herself with the likes of me.”
“Something like that,” Dysart said, his mouth a straight line of malice.
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Tim said, “cause I’m going to take her with me anyway.”
“No,” Rob and Lesley exclaimed at the same time.
“Sorry, buddy,” Tim said to Rob. “No way I’m letting you win this time.”
Lesley’s entire body went rigid as Tim started backing in her direction. He reached out to take her by the wrist. Her paralysis evaporated at his touch. She realized in a flash there was no way to take the shotgun from Tim or to help Rob. But she couldn’t go with Tim.
Wrenching her wrist from his grasp, she bolted outside and sprinted for the trees.
“Lesley,” Tim called out. “Stop.”
Her feet flew. Within seconds she was past the grass and into the woods.
* * *
Rob twisted in his chair, yanking frantically at the duct tape as he watched Tim disappear out the door after Lesley. Dysart appeared to be stunned as he stared at the empty doorway.
“Stan, get me out of this,” Rob said.
“Bad idea, mister bank president,” Landry said.
Dysart looked back and forth nervously a couple of times between Rob and Landry before walking over and pulling at the tape around Rob’s waist. Landry scowled at him. When Dysart made it far enough, Rob clutched at the remnants and ripped them off.
Rob pounced on the nine-millimeter that lay behind his seat and hobbled out the door with it. He did a complete lap around the cabin, stopping several times to listen and peer at the woods. There were no sounds other than crickets and rustling leaves. The moon cast the clearing into stark relief, but he couldn’t penetrate the blackness beyond the tree line. He couldn’t tell which direction Tim and Lesley might have gone.
Shaking with fury and frustration, he went back into the cabin.
“… but you promised you wouldn’t—”
Dysart stopped abruptly when he saw Rob.
“There was no sign of them,” Rob said.
He stopped in front of Landry, who looked up at him with defiance. Suddenly the opportunity to vent his fury sat within reach. Rob was struck by a need to smash Landry’s face, to avenge the humiliation.
Rob’s hand trembled as he lifted the gun high. Then he lowered it slowly.
“No,” Rob said. “That would make me like you.”
He thrust the pistol into Dysart’s hands.
“Watch him,” Rob said, “and use this if you have to. I’m going to look for Lesley.”
Dysart looked at the gun as if it might bite him.
“But what about Tim?” he said. “Won’t you need this?”
“You need it more. Do you have your cell phone with you?”
Dysart nodded.
“Call 911,” Rob said. “Tell them we need the police.”
Rob didn’t wait for an answer. He hurried out the door and across the clearing as quickly as he could toward the spot where he had left his Pathfinder. When he reached it, he pulled up short in dismay.
The hood of his car was open. A second car sat nearby, which Rob assumed was Landry’s. Tim’s Camaro was parked behind that.
Rob could see under the hood in the bright moonlight. A quick look was all he needed. The spark plug wires had been ripped out of his car. They didn’t appear to be lying on the ground nearby. The Pathfinder wasn’t going anywhere.
With his heart pounding, Rob pulled open the passenger door. Please, oh please. He needn’t have worried. Kirsten’s gun was still fully loaded and in the glove box where he had left it. He clicked the car door closed and moved back to the edge of the clearing where he crouched down, unsure how he should proceed.
His first instinct was to head off into the woods and cover as much ground as possible, catch up with Lesley quickly so Tim couldn’t hurt her. But the woods were vast. Tim and Lesley had a considerable head start and Rob wasn’t able to move very quickly. Realistically, his chances of finding them were slim at best. And what if Tim heard him coming? Rob would be no help to Lesley if Tim shot him. Rob could try to move carefully and quietly, but then the amount of territory he could search would be even smaller.
And what if Tim doubled back to the Camaro with Lesley while Rob was out searching?
That did it. Rob found a spot behind a stand of bushes where he could see the cabin and Tim’s car at the same time. His compulsion to rush off and protect Lesley made him jittery, but he quelled his impatience as best he could and settled in to wait.
* * *
Lesley hunched her shoulders with fear as she crashed through bushes and dodged around tree trunks, all the time imagining the imminent shotgun blast that would slice into her back. The cold night air chilled her face and hands, but she barely noticed. Fallen logs loomed out of the darkness, threatening to trip her up, break her kneecap and leave her at Tim’s mercy. The woods taunted her, playing on childhood phobias of darknesses that hide the demonic. Leafless branches ripped at her robe and pajamas, forcing her to flail one way, then another.
“Lesley! Let me explain!”
He sounded so close. She heard nothing, everything, a jumble, a cacophony. She broke left, broke right, lost track, stumbled over a rocky outcropping, scrambled desperately to get up, get moving, expecting his hand to fall on her at any moment, to clamp down. The imagined scream felt real in her throat, as if it had happened. Breaths came harder, with a stitch in her side. Clamping a hand on the spot, she stumbled on. Her chest heaved and burned as the need for oxygen grew. Still she moved, dodging and weaving, always turning, hoping to lose him. The sounds behind her were far away, then close on her heels. Did her mind invent them? Were they echoes o
f her own flight? She tripped again, rolling onto her back. Up immediately on all fours, crab-like, scrambling backwards in sheer terror. And then she stopped.
Alone.
No Tim behind her.
Absolutely still now. Listening, soaking in the slightest tremor of sound, sorting and searching for signs of human movement. She moved her head slowly around in all directions, trying not to breathe, suddenly certain he must be ahead of her, circling, setting a trap for her to blunder into. She saw nothing, sensed nothing.
Long minutes passed while she absorbed all there was around her. Finally she believed she was alone. Lesley got to her feet, brushing dirt and debris from her knees and bottom. What now? She swiveled her head, trying to get a bearing on direction. Which way was the cabin?
* * *
Dysart went to the door and watched Rob head off into the darkness. He waited until he was sure Rob wasn’t coming back, then closed the door and turned back to Landry.
“What did you expect me to do?” Landry said immediately. “I couldn’t very well kick her out and talk to Rob alone.”
“I specifically told you not to touch her.”
“I had to improvise.”
“You should have done what I said,” Dysart roared.
Landry stared at Dysart with cold eyes.
“Okay, I screwed up. Won’t happen again.”
“You won’t go anywhere near her.”
“No problem.”
Dysart could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple. He returned Landry’s stare and tried to get his breathing under control.
“Did I hear right?” Dysart said. “You got a keyword?”
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
Landry spelled it for him. “I was trying to figure out if it was real when you barged in.”
“By beating Lesley.”
“Haven’t we been through this?”
“It would have taken my computer guys all of five minutes to confirm whether it was real,” Dysart said. “There was no need to do that.”
“My cell phone is busted so I couldn’t call you. Besides, did you really want Lesley to find out afterward that you magically came up with a keyword at the same time I phoned someone?”
He had a point, but Dysart wasn’t about to admit it. He pulled his cell phone from his pants pocket and called John Kelleher with the good news. Kelleher promised to have it tested immediately.
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