by D. F. Bailey
The instant she heard the clatter of tin cans on the driveway, Eve’s stomach turned to mush. She clapped a hand to her mouth to block the scream that burst from her lungs. Too late. She felt certain that if Nine stood within fifty feet of the cabin he’d realize that he now had two people to contend with. Maybe it would improve their chances. Maybe not.
Finch turned to her and held a finger to his lips. “Lights,” he whispered and eased into the front room and stood next to the overhead light switch.
She steadied herself and clicked off the bedroom night-table lamps. First, the one next to the window, then the second lamp on her side of the bed. A moment later Finch cut the overhead light in the living room and the cabin went dark.
“All right, Eve,” he whispered. “Close the bedroom door and lock it with the finger bolt. Just liked we planned, okay.”
“Right.” But she hesitated to close the door. Her adrenaline surged when she realized it could be the last time she’d see him alive.
“Have you got the knife?”
She lifted the carving knife from the dresser and clutched it in her right fist. “Yes.”
“I’m going through the back door now.” He drew a deep breath as if he were about to dive into a pool of surging water. “When you hear me call, come down to the road. Just follow the plan. Now lock the bedroom door.”
She waited a moment. “No. You go first, then I’ll lock it.” Her voice sounded reedy, almost inaudible.
She listened as the padding of his footsteps slipped past the stove and kitchen table. She heard the soft click of the back door opening, then closing. She shut the bedroom door and secured the finger-bolt lock above the handle. It wouldn’t stop anyone from breaking through the door, but it would give her a few seconds to prepare. She sliced the knife through the air as she rehearsed the street-fighting moves she’d learned when she’d trained with the San Francisco Police Department. It was all about counter-punching. Wait for Nine to make a move, expose his weakness, then drive the blade into his flesh. Then again and again and again. Two, five, ten gut stabs until he dropped.
※ —— ※
Now read the complete novel introduced in NINE:
OPEN CHAINS
Fifteen murdered.
Seven witnesses.
One by one they fall.
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Nine
Copyright © D. F. Bailey 2019
ISBN: 978-1-9995405-6-2
Published by CatchwordPublishing.com
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Nine is a work of fiction. The resemblance of any characters to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Names, characters, places, brands, media, situations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Acknowledgements. I am extremely grateful to Lawrence Russell, Rick Gibbs, and Stephen Bett for reading an early version of Nine. Their insights, wisdom and advice were invaluable to me as I worked through the final draft of the novel. — DFB