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Page 7
Inside the back of the van, Chad Bingham was cut and bleeding from the long shard of glass in Daniel Danielle’s hand. Daniel was bleeding himself, from cuts made by sharp glass or metal. Bingham’s scalp was laid open and his face was covered with blood. In the wild tumble of the van, Daniel Danielle had managed to wrench the .25 caliber handgun from where it was taped to Bingham’s ankle. Bingham, with his outside-the-walls complexion, hadn’t fooled Daniel for a second.
Daniel held the small handgun against Bingham’s throat. Bingham’s legs were twisted backward, under him. The steel rail both men had been cuffed to had broken at the weld. They were free, though their wrists were still cuffed.
It was Daniel’s legs protruding from the van’s window. Both men knew the gun had hollow-point bullets and would kill easily and messily at close range. Daniel dropped the shard of glass, then used the hand without the gun and rubbed some of Bingham’s blood over his, Daniel’s, face and into his hair. Both men had prison haircuts. Bloodied up as they were, they could be mistaken for each other. Daniel needed only a moment of mistaken identity, and he would act.
He dug the gun’s barrel into Bingham’s throat. “Yell that I’m dead, and you want outta here. Do it if you want to live,” he said to Bingham. “Don’t do as I say, and bullets start slamming around your insides.”
Bingham’s eyes rolled with fear. He knew Daniel’s reputation, and knew the killer had earned it.
“It’s me!” he yelled. “It’s Bingham. Daniel’s dead. Get me the hell outta here!”
All the time he was yelling, Daniel was kicking with his free lower legs.
It seemed a lot of time passed. He jabbed again into Bingham’s neck with the gun barrel. “Hey!” Bingham yelled, “Help!” While Daniel kicked.
Finally Daniel felt strong hands encircle his ankles, exert pressure. Pulling, pulling. As his body began to slide out of the van he stared into Bingham’s eyes and kept the gun pointed directly at his testicles. Bingham didn’t make a sound.
And then Daniel was free—like a cork out of a bottle.
“Thanks!” he kept repeating, as he faced into the wind and gained his feet. “You guys okay?”
“We’re—”
Garvey shut up when he realized the mistake they’d made.
Daniel stepped close and shot him in the forehead.
Nicholson wheeled to run and Daniel shot him twice in the back of the neck. He fell and the wind rolled him a few feet and then lost interest. Daniel bent low into the wind and made his way back to the van. Bingham was still inside, curled into a ball and playing dead. Daniel shot him in the testicles and Bingham began to wail. Daniel knew no one would hear even if they were nearby.
Still cuffed, he began his search for keys.
Five minutes later Bingham watched through the van’s distorted rear window as a limping Daniel Danielle disappeared into the rain and wind.
Within minutes the hurricane sweeping across the state hit the area in earnest.
Chad Bingham would later testify in his hospital bed that Daniel almost certainly died from his wounds or from Hurricane Sophia. There was no way he could have survived out in the open as he’d been, without any nearby shelter.
It was Bingham who died from his wounds.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A multiple Edgar and Shamus Award–winner, including the Shamus Lifetime Achievement Award, John Lutz is the author of more than thirty books. His novel SWF Seeks Same was made into the hit movie Single White Female, and The Ex was a critically acclaimed HBO feature. His recent titles include Serial, Mister X, and Urge to Kill. He lives in St. Louis, Missouri, and Sarasota, Florida.
PINNACLE BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
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Copyright © 2012 John Lutz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978-0-7860-3076-7
First electronic edition: June 2012