Savich said matter-of-factly, “They took him to a spot where they could see the explosion. There’s no way they’d want to miss that—all three of us history. As for the other apartment tenants, they didn’t care about them. Okay, Cully, you’ve got to think back and concentrate. Did Lissy and Victor give any indication about what they were going to do when they left you? Anything about where they were headed, where they’d been hiding before they came up behind you?”
Cully leaned against the peeling wallpaper in the small living room and closed his eyes. He said finally, “They were talking while Victor duct-taped me, like I wasn’t even there, they were that sure I was going to be blown up, you guys along with me—if they were lucky. Lissy starting chanting, ‘I’m going to be lucky,’ over and over again until Victor told her to shut up.”
Sherlock said, “Let me interrupt a minute, Cully. I’m wondering how they knew Dillon and I would be coming to Winnett.”
Cully looked blank, then he shook his head, sighed. “If they were watching me and Bernie—and they were—they must have been close enough to listen to me talking to you guys on my cell, just figured you’d be coming here.”
Sherlock nodded. “Okay, go on. What else do you remember?”
Cully said, “Before they left me, she leaned down and kissed me— not just a peck, she Frenched me. I nearly fainted. She laughed. Then they waltzed out. As far as I could tell, Victor left all his stuff in the apartment, didn’t take a thing. Maybe he’d already taken what he wanted.
“On their way out I heard Victor’s voice, but I couldn’t make out what he said, but then Lissy said real loud like they were arguing, ‘I’m going to kill that bastard who murdered her, or my mama will never forgive me.’ And you know what? She burst into tears, sobbed her heart out. It was weird. I heard Victor consoling her, soothing words. Then they left, and Lissy yelled out right before they closed the apartment door, ‘Bada-boom!’ Then she was laughing her head off, right after she was crying her eyes out. She’s crazier than a loon, guys. You know what? I think Victor knows it.”
Cully paused, looked like he was trying to make sense of things. “You know, I’m not really sure, but one minute Victor’s bossing her around, and the next it’s like he’s afraid she’ll turn on him. But when she Frenched me, I knew he was mad, really mad.”
Savich said, “But he didn’t do anything. Say anything?”
“No, he turned away, like he wasn’t interested. And then Lissy ran after him, laughing. Who was she talking about killing? It wasn’t you; I mean, she wanted to blow you up in Victor’s apartment.”
Savich said, “She was talking about Buzz Riley, the security guard at the bank in Georgetown they tried to rob. He’s the one who saved my life, killed Lissy’s mother, Jennifer Smiley. Buzz is safe; he took a long-overdue vacation in the Caribbean. Lissy was probably nagging Victor about trying to get down there.”
Sherlock nodded. “Even if they thought of it, no way could they manage it. Victor knows that. They’ve got to plan on waiting until Buzz comes home.”
“For sure killing Buzz is on Lissy’s to-do list. Sherlock’s right, they’ll simply wait for him to come home.” Savich fell silent. He stared at his hands, thinking.
Sherlock, who knew her husband as well as she knew herself, was content to wait. She lightly laid her hand on Cully’s forearm when he would have spoken.
Savich looked up. “I’m thinking Victor and Lissy stayed close enough to see the apartment building blow. They probably watched to see Sherlock and me go in, then they saw all of us running over here a few minutes later to look for Bernie.”
Sherlock said slowly, “But they didn’t try to shoot us when we ran out of the building. We were all in the open, running, sure, but we were open targets.”
Savich said, “We must have come out faster than they expected. Remember, we were running flat out. Maybe they were still dealing with Bernie.
“Bottom line, we’ve got to assume Victor and Lissy are still out there waiting for us to waltz out this front door, then they’ll try to kill us all.”
“Now there’s a happy thought,” Sherlock said. She walked to the front living room window and scanned the surrounding trees. “We’re at the very edge of town, all trees and hills out there. They could be anywhere. You really think they’re watching us, Dillon?”
“Oh, yeah, I would be,” he said, “watching and waiting.”
Cully said, “There’s only two of them. You think they’d split up— one watching the back and one watching the front?”
“Sounds reasonable,” Savich said.
Sherlock said, “Agreed. Now, what are we going to do?”
Savich pulled out his cell. “I’m going to call in the cavalry.”
62
PEAS RIDGE, GEORGIA
They were walked back to the meeting hall, Kjell’s gun shoved against Ethan’s back.
The door slid silently open.
“Go in, Sheriff, Mrs. Backman.”
At the last instant, Kjell tried to grab Autumn, but she jumped out of the way. She ran behind Ethan.
Kjell stood there, obviously uncertain what to do. Then he called over his shoulder, “Keeper, I need your assistance.”
Blessed came into the room behind him. He looked haggard, his eyes red from weeping.
“Stymie them, Keeper.”
“No!” Autumn jerked away and faced Blessed, her arms out, trying to cover both her mother and Ethan. “No, no, Blessed, don’t you dare stymie them!”
Blessed grabbed her and lifted her into his arms. “Be quiet, Autumn. You will be quiet.”
Autumn sank her teeth into Blessed’s arm.
Kjell said when Blessed moaned, “Give her to her mother before she chews your arm off.”
Blessed lowered a flailing Autumn to the floor. She ran to her mother, wrapped her arms around Joanna’s waist, and pressed her face into her stomach. She was crying huge, deep sobs that sounded— fake.
Kjell crossed his arms over his chest and merely looked at each of them in turn, but his focus, his real interest, was Autumn. Blessed pressed his fingers to his arm where she’d bitten him. There was blood on his fingers. He looked at them, his eyes angry. He was panting. “No more of this. It’s time.”
Autumn screamed, “No!” She ran at Blessed, hitting his stomach with her fists. Blessed grabbed her wrists and stared down at her, and then something very strange happened.
Blessed didn’t talk, didn’t seem to be able to move.
Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.
Kjell was at Blessed’s side in an instant. He dropped to his knees and shook him. “Keeper! Wake up!” He reached out to grab Autumn. “What did you do to him? What?”
Kjell realized the danger too late. He leaped to his feet, brought up his gun, but Ethan was on him. He kicked the gun from his hand.
Ethan had wondered if Kjell was trained to fight, and he was. But Ethan had learned karate and some of the dirtiest street fighting on the planet—in the Philippines. He’d gotten himself stomped before he learned being vicious could be the only way to stay alive. He went after Kjell with everything he knew, with all the rage he felt. Joanna pulled Autumn to her, her hand over her eyes so she couldn’t see the violence, but she knew Autumn heard the slamming of fists against flesh, the grunts, the brief silences, which were worse, and knew the instant Ethan broke Kjell’s nose and his glasses. Blood flew out to streak down the white wall behind him.
She watched Kjell, blood pouring down his face, land a kick in Ethan’s kidney, watched him stumble back and fall, then roll back onto his feet. He went at Kjell furiously, his fist to his jaw, a kick to his belly, his other fist hard into his broken nose. Kjell, utterly silent to this point, fell back and moaned.
Joanna’s heart nearly stopped when Kjell jumped at Ethan, dragged him down to the white floor. They rolled over and over, grunting, hitting each other in the head, each trying to gain leverage.
And the
n it was over. Ethan, on top, reared back and sent the heel of his hand into Kjell’s broken nose, sending droplets of his blood flying. Kjell didn’t make a sound. His eyes rolled back and he went limp. Ethan shook his hand, rubbed his bloody knuckles.
Joanna’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t find the spit to speak. Finally she whispered, “Is he dead?”
“Yes.” Ethan got slowly to his feet and stared down at the young man. What had Caldicot Whistler promised him if Kjell obeyed him? Great wealth? Power? Had Kjell killed the people Autumn had seen the Backmans burying? Now nothing mattered to him. He was dead. Ethan picked up Kjell’s gun and put it in his belt.
Blessed moaned and sat up. He clapped his hands to his head and began to weave back and forth. He looked at Ethan, then at Joanna, looked hard, but he didn’t look at Autumn. He clutched his forehead in his hands and whispered, “This cannot be, it cannot,” and he fell onto his side again and began crying.
Ethan said, “Autumn, what did you do to Blessed?”
Autumn was deathly pale. Ethan went down on his knees and pulled her against him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know it’s bad, but I need you to pay attention to me right now, okay? This is super-important. Tell me what you did to Blessed.”
“I didn’t do anything, Ethan, I only—”
The door in the wall suddenly closed again.
Ethan knew they didn’t have much time. He said, “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll go back the way we came.”
“Ethan.”
He turned to see Joanna staring down low on the wall. He heard gas snaking out from a small white vent not six inches above the floor. He cursed under his breath. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He scooped Autumn up in his arms and ran to where they’d first entered the white room, Joanna right behind him. Even though he could see the outline of the sliding door, he couldn’t see how to open it.
“There has to be something,” Joanna said. “There has to be.” Ethan went on his knees in front of Autumn. “We’re going to run our palms over this wall, look for a button, anything. Breathe real light; try not to let the gas get to you.”
They couldn’t find a way out. Ethan slammed his shoulder against the door, but it was solid. He could smell the gas, feel it against his skin. He ripped off his shirt, ran back to the low vent in the wall, and dropped to his knees. He stuffed his shirt as best as he could between the narrow slats. But to do any good at all, he had to hold the shirt in place.
Joanna fell to her knees beside him, shoved up her shirt, and unclipped her bra. “Move your shirt.” As she stuffed her bra between the slats, Ethan yelled, “Autumn, go over by the far wall and pull your T-shirt up over your nose and mouth!”
Joanna pulled off her sneakers and stripped off her socks. He did the same. They stuffed the socks in, trying to hold their breath as they worked.
Objectively, Ethan knew there would be no stopping the gas, and there wasn’t. “Sorry, Joanna, this isn’t going to cut it. We’ve got to find the way out of this place. There’s got to be some mechanism.”
“Yes, there has to be something,” Joanna said. “There has to be.”
But there wasn’t. Ethan felt the world spin, felt as if he were rising off the floor. He passed out.
63
WINNETT, NORTH CAROLINA
Eight minutes passed before Savich’s cell phone rang.
“Savich.” After a moment, he nodded. “Good.” And he punched off his phone.
He said to Cully and Sherlock, “The cavalry’s here. The chief of police and every single deputy Winnett has on the payroll are in position. They can’t cover the woods, but they’ve got Pulitzer Prize Road blocked on both ends. They’re forming a big perimeter, hunkering down where there are breaks in the trees, but trying to stay out of sight.
“The chief said he posted a couple of marksmen on top of Victor’s apartment building, came in through the back and up the stairs to the roof. The chief assures me everyone did their best to keep Victor and Lissy from knowing they’re there. We didn’t hear any cars from here, so maybe they didn’t either. They’re looking for Victor and Lissy’s car or, rather, for a car that’s hidden, since we don’t know what car Victor and Lissy are driving right now.”
Cully said, “They’ve probably got it stashed in some trees off the road.”
“Can’t be too far from here. Maybe the chief will find it. Then we’ve got them.”
“So in the best of all possible worlds, Lissy and Victor have no clue they’re surrounded,” Sherlock said.
Cully slammed his fist into the wall. “I hate this, I really do. What if Bernie is dead?” He looked into Savich’s eyes. “I guess you don’ know. Bernie’s wife, Jessie—she’s my sister. They’ve got two kids, my nephews.”
Sherlock touched her fingers to his forearm. “He’s their hostage until they nail us and drive out of Winnett, Cully. He’s alive, at least for now.”
He nodded, but she knew he wasn’t holding out much hope.
She said again, “Dillon, it’s time to see if they split up, see if one of them is waiting out back for us to step out the kitchen door. It’s about thirty feet from the back of the house to the edge of the woods, and the neighboring house is a good fifty feet away. It’s all forest on our other side. Now, since it wouldn’t be bright to go out the bac k door, I’m thinking to go out the bedroom window, there’s a whole mess of oaks out there. Great cover.” Sherlock saw his face and added real fast, “I’m the smallest, I can slip through the window, they won’t see me. You know I can dodge and duck with the best of them. I’ll slip into those trees and work my way back—”
Savich said, “No way. You just had your spleen removed, Sherlock.”
“Come on, Dillon, it’s been months since the surgery. I’m fine. You know I’m fine. Stop playing Mr. Protector.”
“Forget it, you’re still not up to running all out in the woods. I want you and Cully to stay put, keep a sharp eye out. Look at it this way, we’ve got backup in place. I’ll probably be redundant. Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon. Good plan, by the way.” And before Sherlock could jump on him or yell at him, Savich moved away from the front windows back down the hall to the bedroom.
He heard Sherlock say behind him, “Who needs a spleen anyway?”
64
VICTOR NESSER threw his binoculars to the ground. “Where are they?”
Lissy jumped a bit, picked up the binoculars, and looked through them. “There’s still no movement in the house, not even a face looking out the front windows. Even though they couldn’t find our federal cop buddy here—I’ll bet you they called for their crime scene team, Victor, and that’s why they’re still inside the house.”
Victor said, “But why isn’t the crime scene team here yet? Why aren’t they doing something?”
“I remember, it’s forensic team, that’s what they call them on TV,” Lissy said. “You’re right, it’s been way too long.” She handed him back the binoculars.
“Yeah, but, you know, this is a hick town. Where would anybody get a forensic team? Maybe at Bud’s Bowling Bonanza or down at O’Malley’s Dairy Queen? What’s taking them so long to get it together? Why aren’t they coming out of the house?”
Lissy patted Victor’s cheek. “They will, baby, they will. They’re stupid. They don’t know anything. They’ll come trotting out of the front door any minute now and we’ll blow them into a gazillion pieces.” She frowned suddenly, punched his arm. “Some bomb you made, Victor. First you couldn’t manage to stall out that security guard’s car in Washington, and now you couldn’t get the bomb to go off. Some computer expert you are.”
“It should have gone off,” Victor said, rubbing his arm. “I followed the instructions carefully; you watched me do it. Don’t hit me again, Lissy, I don’t like it.”
“Still,” she said, then looked over at Bernie. “We’ve got Mr. Fed here, and that’s something.”
Victor leaned over and punched Bernie hard in the arm.
“Hey, wake up, pigface. You know why your buddies aren’t out here looking for you?”
Bernie was awake, had been for some time now, trying to control his roaring headache from the blow on the back of his head. Actually, he’d been whispering hallelujahs. Victor’s bomb hadn’t exploded, thank the good Lord, which meant Savich and Sherlock had disarmed it. Cully was still alive, and that was all Bernie wanted to think about. He’d hoped they’d say something useful if he kept playing possum, but then Victor hit him.
“Come on, pigface, open your baby blues!”
“His eyes aren’t blue, Victor, they’re brown.”
“Yeah? How do you know that, Lissy?”
“He’s all big and dark; no blue eyes for him.”
Bernie opened his brown eyes and stared up at Victor. He didn’t have to fake looking dazed. “What?”
“Hey, were you trying to fake it? Or are you still knocked stupid?” Lissy punched him in the belly with her fist. He barely responded. “See? He’s still stupid. I hit him so hard his cop brains arc still scrambled.” She leaned down and whispered in his ear as her palm flattened out on his stomach. “Hey, Mr. Agent, I like the feel of your gut. No fat, good muscle tone. Let me see.” Lissy jerked his shirt out of his pants, ripped the buttons off, and spread it open. “Wow, Vic-tor, look at our buff cop here.” She stroked her hand over his stomach, and, to his horror, Bernie felt her fingers slide down into his shorts.
He tried to jerk away, then coughed, wheezed.
Victor jerked when he saw her hand. “What are you doing, Lissy? Stop that, you hear me? You don’t even know him. Stop it!”
Lissy laughed, pulled her hand out of his pants. “That’s the way to wake up a cop, Victor. All you gotta do is touch their brains.” And she laughed again. “Hey, that’s true of any guy, isn’t it? From what I could tell, our cop here’s got a pretty good brain.”
KnockOut ft-13 Page 28