by Peg Herring
Jai had taken a bottle of water from the cup holder and crawled into the back, gently pushing Bennett to one side as she offered Tom Wyman a drink. He looked terrible, with two black eyes and a split lip. The grimaces he’d made crawling into the car revealed painful body bruises, possibly broken ribs.
His sense of humor was intact. “Good to see you, Em. Don’t be afraid to drive as fast as you like.”
“Gary is through the gate,” Jai reported. “What can we do?”
“Outrun him, I hope,” Em replied. “If that doesn’t work, we’ll think of something.”
“How good are you behind the wheel?” Tom asked. His swollen lips made the words sound slushy.
“As good as any; better than some. What you got in mind?”
“My car sits pretty low to the ground, but this thing has all-wheel drive. If you can get him to follow you off-road, it won’t be long before he wrecks something.”
Em knew what it cost Tom to propose wrecking his beautiful car. Still, it was better than waiting for the guy behind them to start shooting. “Let’s do it.”
“Okay,” Tom said. “Instead of turning toward Cedar at the stop sign, go west. There’s some open country out that way that should work for us.”
Em did as he suggested. Within a minute he directed her to take a left down a dirt road. The turn was neither smooth nor fully controlled, but a glance in the rearview mirror told Em their pursuer had more trouble with it than she did. The Mustang’s back end slewed wildly, and the driver barely kept it under control. As soon as he did, he accelerated and caught up quickly. Glancing at the mirror, Em saw his determined face close to the steering wheel, his hands in the ten-and-two position.
Dragging himself upright, Tom twisted to a position where he could look out the front window. “That field ahead should work. Are you ready for this?”
She ignored her throbbing hip and sweaty palms. “I was born ready.”
Let’s hope Loonette the Clown hasn’t lost her skills.
Turning the wheel sharply, Em steered down an earthen ramp meant for farm equipment and bumped abruptly into the open field planted with sorghum. Steering along the rows, she heard Whack, whack, whack! as the plants surrendered to the car’s grill and brushed along the undercarriage. The tires spun in the loose dirt and the vehicle bogged a few times, but she kept the accelerator pressed down and fought the steering wheel as it bucked in her hands like a wild steer. Somehow, they continued forward.
Behind her the driver of the Mustang hesitated, but in the end he made the decision they’d hoped for. Unwilling to lose them in the darkness, he turned off the road and followed.
“Good on ya,” Em muttered. “Now all I have to do is find a place to hang you up.”
It came sooner than she expected. In the center of the field was a low spot the farmer had filled in with rocks. The plants around it hid the hazard from view until the last second, and when her headlights illuminated it, Em yanked the wheel sharply to the left. Though they didn’t hit it head-on, the SUV’s right-side tires climbed up and over the edge of the pile, sending them all into space for a split second before they were jammed back into their seats again. Tom let out an involuntary groan, Bennett whined an objection, and Mai squealed in fright. Straightening the steering wheel, Em continued forward, hoping the man following their track was coming too fast to avoid disaster.
A few seconds later they heard it. Too low to the ground to climb over the rocks, the car’s underside scraped along them, making a sound that signaled the imminent death of the oil pan. Even if their pursuer managed to get over the obstacle, he wouldn’t get much farther before the car’s engine seized.
At the other side of the field, Em drove along the edge until the headlights illuminated a gentle enough angle to cross the ditch and get back on the road. There she stopped for a second, turned off the lights, and rolled down the window. Behind them they heard the whine of an engine fighting its frozen axles. The Mustang was marooned in the darkness, unable to move.
“Now what?” Em asked Tom.
As he looked toward the stationary headlights that revealed where his car was dying, Tom’s voice revealed regret. “We call the cops and report a car in trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Though concerned about Em and the others, Robin was all too aware of her own precarious situation. After the two vehicles sped away, complete silence fell over the lot, which meant any sound she made would alert Luther or Dave. It would be impossible to climb the metal fence without the vibration betraying her presence. She’d have to wait and hope they left.
“Somebody’s still here,” Luther said.
“What do you mean?”
“If the boys were in that unit making noise, and the old lady was distracting Gary, who cut the hole and got Wyman out?”
“The woman that was with him in Florida.”
“She didn’t come with the old lady, and I don’t think she left with her.” Robin sensed Luther’s gaze searching the darkness. “I want her dead, but I want the money first.”
What followed was a terrifying game of hide and seek. The lot was lit intermittently: the perimeter fairly well, the interior less so, which meant Robin had to stay between the buildings to remain unseen. Finding a spot where a burned-out lamp left almost complete darkness, she took shelter in the recessed doorway of a unit. Biting her lip to keep from sobbing, she cowered in her hiding spot while Luther called out from time to time, “Anything?”
“Nothing.”
She hardly dared to breathe when one of them, Dave she thought, passed so near she could have reached out and touched him. Though the cloudy night was an advantage, the blackness around her emphasized her isolation. Her friends were gone. They’d saved Tom, but who would save her?
The worst times were when Luther and Dave didn’t talk to each other. It was difficult to tell where they were, close or far away, and Robin fought the panic every stalked creature feels—the instinct to run, even if running means discovery.
How long before they find me? How long before I die?
When a soft scrape sounded on the tarmac at the end of the row, she turned to see a glow that made her cringe. One of them had located a flashlight, and he swung it in a wide arc as he approached. Irrelevant thoughts tumbled into her head. She hadn’t made her weekly call to Shelly. She’d meant to get tickets to a Royals game so Cam could experience the thrill of a live sporting event. She wasn’t sure she’d put away the clean laundry Hua left neatly folded on the table in her room. She was going to die, and there was a lot she’d meant to do.
After a few seconds, a voice in her head, maybe Em’s, maybe Mark’s, maybe her own, told Robin to stop being a baby and think. Like many flashlights kept for emergencies, this one wasn’t all that useful. Its yellowish light indicated weak batteries, and its compact size made the illumination angle narrow. Unless the person carrying it got within a few feet of her, he’d see only shadows.
Pulling the hood of her jacket over her head, Robin drew the strings tight, leaving only her eyes uncovered. Then she stretched herself, face inward, along the metal wall of the building. It was unnerving to turn away from danger, but she knew her chances were better as an amorphous, low form. Her enemies expected an upright or a crouched figure. She was, as Em would have phrased it, shaking like a shirt in a hurricane, but if she could remain silent, they’d walk right by.
I hope.
With only her ears for warning, Robin lay there, trying to slow her racing heart. Damp seeped into her clothing. Cold concrete sucked the warmth from her arm and hip. Stealthy footsteps were close. Had Luther seen her? Was Dave creeping toward her, ready to pounce? Should she bolt from her hiding place and try to outrun them? Remain where she was? She took shallow breaths and forced her unwilling muscles to remain limp. The sound of footsteps passed, and after what seemed like an hour she heard Luther say, “Anything?”
Dave’s voice came from farther away. “No.”
As she blessed
luck and lousy flashlights, Luther ordered, “We need to get the car.”
“Yeah. The headlights will find her.” Dave trotted off, but Luther remained where he was for a while, as if sensing Robin’s nearness. It seemed his light eyes would penetrate the darkness from sheer will and discover her lying there. She counted her breaths, counted the seconds, counted her chances of surviving.
Too noisy. Too long. Too low.
Finally Luther moved away. She sat up, slowly and with great caution, and tried to decide what to do. Which direction would the car come from? Which way should she go to make a run for the fence? No matter how she imagined it, her escape attempt didn’t end well. She could almost feel Dave’s hand gripping her ankle before she reached the top, pulling her back to the ground.
Still, she couldn’t stay where she was until headlights trapped her against the building.
The slightest of noises to her left made Robin tense further. A figure traced the building, fingertips lightly touching the metal wall for guidance. Had Luther circled back? She stretched out on the ground again, hoping what had worked once would work again.
It didn’t. A foot touched her foot. Then a hand squeezed it tentatively. As she coiled, ready to kick the hand’s owner in the face, she caught the smell of ginger.
“Hua?”
“Robin.” His voice was at her ear. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Stretching out a hand, he helped her to her feet. “Cam and I have devised a Plan B to fit this situation, but it requires all three of us.”
She had trouble processing his words. “You’ve got a plan?
“We must make these men believe they have won. Then we will divide them and beat them.”
Robin felt a sinking dread. “You want me to surrender.”
He must have heard the dread in her voice. “Temporarily. We will rescue you.”
In what universe do you two stack up against killers with guns?
“Come with me.” As Hua led the way, Robin clung to what she’d learned. Mink advice was to make a Plan B. Apparently Hua and Cam had that covered. Em always said to play it cool” Luther didn’t know she had help, so if she struck the right note, he’d think he had the upper hand. Last came Mark’s harsh lesson was Do whatever it takes, Babe. Whatever it takes. In a fight to the death there could be no hesitation, no holds barred.
“I put the money in the second unit,” Hua was saying. “Lead them to it. When things start to happen, take a prone position if at all possible.”
They reached the end of the building across from Robin’s unit and stopped in the shadows. Luther’s car was fairly well-lit by a lamp along the fence line. Dave was already inside. Luther was just opening the driver’s side door when she stepped out with hands raised. Seeing her, Luther nodded to Dave, who exited the car, approached, and took her arm in a rough grip. “I owe you one upside the head, lady.”
“If you want your money, you’d better hold off for a while.” Her voice shook, but she managed to meet Luther’s eyes directly. He came around the back of the car. “Where is it?”
“People think you have the same motives they do,” Mark had often said. “If your story sounds like what they’d have done, they swallow it hook, line, and sinker.” If her father was correct, Robin needed to sound as greedy, mistrustful, and selfish as Luther would be if he were in her situation.
“We thought we could get Tom out without giving up the money, but then you two showed up. My mom got Tom out, but she couldn’t stop for me with your friend on her tail.”
“Too bad,” Dave sneered, but Robin focused on Luther.
“She left the money, in case I had to give it up to get Tom back.” She nodded down the row. “Half of it’s in there. You get the rest when I go free.”
Luther glanced down the row. “The old woman left half a mil in that unit?” Opening the car door, he retrieved the failing flashlight from where he’d tossed it on the seat. “Show me.”
As Robin started for Unit #124, her mind spun with questions. What was the plan? What could she do to help when “things start to happen?” Dave and Luther both had their guns in hand, and Dave held her arm so tightly she might need reconstructive surgery later. If she lived.
The door to Unit #124 was closed but not locked. Robin rolled it up, exposing a dark space littered with boards, a couple of hammers, and a cordless power drill—mute testimony to Jai and Mai’s hasty retreat. In the center of the floor was Hua’s chartreuse backpack. “Watch her.” Luther opened the zipper and peered inside. “It looks like she’s telling the truth.”
“What now?” Dave asked.
“If you want the rest, you have to let me go,” Robin said.
“Not necessarily,” Luther answered.
At that moment steps sounded on the pavement outside the unit. “Hey!”
Hiding his gun at his side, Luther went to the doorway. Dave followed, dragging Robin with him. She almost fell when he stopped suddenly in apparent surprise. A tall figure in black stood at the corner of the building, his aggressive pose suggesting Wolverine in anger mode. When Robin noticed Cam’s mouth moving, she realized he was counting. Hua must have estimated how many seconds he could risk standing there before one of the gunmen recovered and started shooting. At “one” he made a sideways leap and was gone.
“Get him,” Luther ordered. “I’ll watch her.”
“That’s one big SOB,” Dave observed. “Bigger than me.”
“Just makes him an easier target,” Luther replied. “Now go!”
Dave sped away, rounding the building and disappearing into the night. Luther shined the flashlight on Robin’s face. “Now about that other half-million.”
“I told you. When I go free—”
The slap came from nowhere, and she reeled backward, trying to keep her feet beneath her.
“You’re gonna try to negotiate with me?” A second slap stung her cheek and sent her staggering again. “Tell me where it is, or you’ll find out what pain is, like your boyfriend did.”
A cry sounded from some distance away, a single yelp that modulated to a groan. Had Dave wounded Cam? She hadn’t heard a shot, but the gun might have a silencer.
That thought was interrupted by a third blow, with a closed fist this time. When she put her hand to her eye in response to the pain, Luther punched her stomach. The breath left her body with a woof, and she struggled to get air into her lungs again.
“Where is my money?”
Shock made her thoughts muddy, but Mark’s voice reminded, Whatever it takes, Babe.
“I’ll tell!” She made her voice tearful. “Don’t hit me again.”
Luther’s voice revealed satisfaction. “That’s a good girl.”
She needed a new plan. If Cam was hurt—or killed, but she didn’t want to think about that—only Hua was left to save her. There was no way he could come into the unit and get her. Dave might return at any moment. She had to get Luther out in the open, while he was alone and where Hua could—
What? Attack Luther? Disarm him and beat him into submission?
She had to try. “The rest of the money’s in the other unit.”
His tone was doubting. “How’d that happen?”
“When my friend got Tom out, he left it in case I needed it. As I said, we didn’t trust you to let us go.”
She heard the smile in Luther’s reply. “That’s the only smart thing you did tonight. Not that it’s going to help.” Bending slightly, Luther slid the backpack strap over one shoulder. With the gun in one hand and the light in the other he ordered, “Let’s go.”
Robin went first, her back rippling with anxiety at the thought of the gun just inches from her spine. When they were almost to the car, they heard grunts of exertion, and a second later Dave appeared at the corner of the building, his face anguished. Leaning heavily on the structure, he panted, “Bastard kneecapped me.”
Luther glanced nervously around. “You let him get away?”
Dave’s expression turned resentf
ul. “I can barely walk. How was I supposed to chase him down?”
“You,” Luther said to Robin. “Help him into the car.”
Robin obeyed, supporting Dave as he limped to the passenger side. Sliding the seat all the way back, she helped him inside.
“You still got your gun?”
“Yeah.” His voice was weak.
“Keep an eye out for trouble. A few more minutes and I’ll get you to a doctor.” Dave tried to nod in acquiescence, but pain showed clearly on his face, and his head lolled back onto the seat.
As Robin closed the car door, Luther grabbed her by the hair, jerking her backward. “Hey!” he called to the night. “I bet you’re out there watching, so here’s the deal. You come out now, and I won’t kill the woman.” There was no reply, so he added, “She doesn’t have to die quick. A bullet to her knee will do what you did to my buddy there, maybe worse.” When there was still no reply he said, “Let’s count it down. When I get to five, she gets a non-lethal bullet hole. I get to pick where. One. Two.”
“I’m coming out.” Cam’s voice came from down the row. He appeared first as a dark form, then a clear image with hands raised in surrender. Robin held her breath. Would Luther shoot him immediately and end one threat?
He did not, and she let herself breathe again. Instead, when Cam was almost to the car Luther said, “Stop.”
Cam obeyed. His eyes sought Robin’s, sending a message she thought was positive. Hua was still out there somewhere. That was good, except now he had to rescue both her and Cam.
Luther had considered his options, and he dragged Robin to the driver’s side of the car. Opening the door, he leaned in and pressed a button. The trunk lid popped open. “Get in,” he ordered.
Cam did as he was told, stepping in easily and folding himself small enough to fit. When Luther ordered Robin to close the lid, she did so reluctantly. The next time Cam saw the sky, she was certain it would be only long enough for Luther to put a bullet in his head. To her surprise Cam appeared calm and even gave her a subtle thumbs-up sign as the lid closed over him.