by Lois Kay
“And then what?” Fred answered. He swallowed hard and licked his dry lips. “Did you see that gun he has? He’ll use it, you know. Without even thinking about it. If you’d try to make a run for it, he’d shoot you.” He scratched the back of his head, desperately trying to come up with a plan. When that move pulled up his shirt a little, Sarah gasped.
“You found my gun,” she noticed, not knowing whether to be excited or scared about that.
Fred quickly lowered his arm and felt the cold steel that was tucked in the waistband of his jeans. “Is it loaded?” he asked with wide eyes. “I didn’t have time to check it.”
“It is,” Sarah answered. The expression on her face was grim. “I cleaned and loaded it yesterday, when Brian got shot. I was determined to keep us all safe. I obviously failed at that,” she ended bitterly.
Jody shifted in her chair and pulled the rope that was keeping her in place. It wasn’t too tight, thankfully, but it would still be hard to pull herself free. Every move she made hurt her head that was throbbing painfully. Her right eye was swollen. A steady trickle of blood slowly slid down her face and disappeared in the collar of her shirt. “Do you even know how to use that thing?” she bluntly asked Fred. Her voice was hoarse and unsteady.
“I…I guess,” he stammered
“What kind of criminal are you anyway?” Fiona suddenly asked. Her eyes were blazing. “You do exactly what that fucking piece of shit tells you to do, but in the meantime—”
“Fiona.” Joan McDonnell’s voice warned.
Fiona rolled her eyes and tried to look at her mother, which wasn’t an easy task, because with her hands tied behind her chair, she could hardly lean forward. “Mom. This isn’t ‘Little House on the Prairie’. This is for real and that guy outside is a dangerous killer. And my guess is he’s a loony as well. He just beat the hell out of Jody. In my book that defines him as a piece of shit. And I’m being nice about it.”
Lucy let out a nervous chuckle. She cast a look at her mother, who was sitting next to her. “Don’t worry, Mom, it’s the stress,” she explained.
“It’s not the language, girls,” Joan McDonnell sounded tired. “I don’t want them to get abusive again. God only knows what he’ll be capable off.” The words were meant for her daughters, but her eyes were on Fred, who shuffled his feet under her scrutinizing stare.
“I won’t hurt anyone,” he answered, feeling very awkward. “In fact,” he looked at the door and lowered his voice. “In fact, I’m trying to come up with a plan to get us all out of here.”
“Good for you,” Lucy sneered. “You could start untying us. That would help.”
“I don’t think—”
Fred’s answer was interrupted by the sound of something heavy that was dragged along the porch. He could hear Little Steven’s footsteps and suddenly he feared his companion was up to something neither of them would like. Fred walked toward the door and tried to push it open. It didn’t move. Frowning, he tried it again and when he heard a chuckle come from the other side he knew that Little Steven must have blocked the door with a heavy object.
“What are you doing, Steven?” Fred called out.
“I’m locking you in, pretty boy. What does it sound like?”
Fred felt as if a cold hand grabbed his wildly beating heart and slowly squeezed it. It took his breath away and sent shivers down his spine. “Why?” his voice croaked.
“I have no need for all of you,” was the muffled response. “It’s the blonde I want. You guys are disposable.”
Fred’s clammy hands tried the doorknob once again. “What are you going to do?”
Again, he heard the chilling chuckle. “That’s a surprise, Freddie boy. You’ll have to wait and see. And don’t try to climb out of the windows, because you can’t. I’ve closed all the shutters. This is the last one.” After those words the shutter outside the kitchen window was shut, leaving them all in darkness. A scraping sound made it clear he had bolted it from the outside. They were trapped.
“There’s a light switch next to the door, Fred, on the right.” Sarah’s voice was calm.
Fred reached for it and after he flipped the switch the lamp over the kitchen table came on, bathing them all in a soft glow.
“Untie us, Fred,” Joan McDonnell ordered in a no-nonsense voice. “I don’t think we have much time left.”
Obediently, Fred knelt behind her chair, trying to untie the knot with trembling fingers.
“There’s a knife in the kitchen sink,” Lucy suggested. She cast a worried look at Jody, who had been very quiet and looked like she could pass out any minute. The blood still trickled down her face that was an unnatural shade of white. It contrasting sharply with her freckles and the color of her hair.
Fred retrieved the sharp knife and it only took him a second to slide through the rope, which fell in a heap on the floor. He quickly went around the table and freed everybody from their binds. Jody was the last one who was set free and Fred looked at Lucy with worried eyes. “Is she going to be okay?”
“How would I know? I’m not a doctor,” Lucy snapped. She crouched next to Jody on one side, while her mother was knelt on the other side. “This is your friend’s handiwork.”
“He’s not my friend,” Fred bit back.
Joan McDonnell let out an aggrieved sigh. “Stop fighting. We don’t have time for that.”
“We need to get out of here,” Sarah said. She walked toward the door that led to the hallway. “Maybe we’ll be able to get out through one of the bedroom windows. If we break the glass, we might be able to kick out one of the shutters.”
“And what if he’s still out there?” Lucy asked. “He has a gun he likes to use. He’s probably waiting for us to do something like that.”
“We’ll wait for the police,” Jody mumbled with difficulty. “I’m sure Sam and Megan knew something was up. I bet they called the police.”
“Maybe that’s the best option,” Joan McDonnell agreed. “It can’t be long before they’re here.”
“They’d better hurry though,” Fiona suddenly spoke from near the blocked kitchen door. “I smell smoke.”
Chapter 22
Sam climbed through the window, trying to avoid making any noise at all. Her long legs made the task easy and as soon as her feet touched the ground she stood still, listening to the surrounding sounds. She could hear the mumbling voice of a man coming from the kitchen, but she couldn’t understand the words. She stepped inside the room and tiptoed to the door that Fred had closed behind him. She rested her hand on the knob and slowly turned it, hoping it wouldn’t squeak. It didn’t and Sam promised herself to compliment Megan and Sarah about the maintenance of their house later. Holding her breath, she slowly opened the door. The axe she had found was clenched in her left hand. It wouldn’t be much of a weapon if confronted with a gun, but at least it was something, she reasoned.
Tantalizingly slow she opened the door and peered through the narrow opening. She could see part of the hallway. On the opposite side, she could see the kitchen door, which was closed. She waited a little while, afraid to make a noise and give away her presence. With her eyes fixed on the kitchen door she listened. Her heart was pounding. After a few minutes, she heard the closing of a door and her head jerked. Somebody had left the kitchen. That could only mean one thing; one of the men had left the house.
Sam calculated the distance to the door and knew it would only take her about three seconds to barge into the kitchen. But what if the remaining man had a gun? And what if he was willing to use it? According to Inspector Wong there had been two men at The Reef when Brian was shot. The shooter had seemed very confident, but witness accounts described his younger companion as nervous and skittish. Sam was sure she would be able to overpower that one. But she wasn’t sure about the other one, the big one. Still debating what to do, Sam heard footsteps outside the bedroom window and without thinking, she stepped inside the hall, closing the door behind her.
* * *
&n
bsp; “What do you mean you smell smoke?” Lucy snapped at Fiona. Her eyes were worried.
“I smell smoke,” Fiona repeated. Her eyes nervously shifted from Lucy to the door and back again. “Come over here. You can smell it.”
In a few strides, Lucy was at the door and she sniffed carefully. She paled when realizing Fiona was right. “We have to get out of here,” she stated with a strained voice.
“How?” Sarah asked. “That idiot is out there with a gun. As soon as we leave the house, he’ll use it. We’d be sitting ducks. Besides, he blocked the door and all the windows.”
“Maybe not all of them,” Fred sounded, a bit hopeful.
While they were discussing the situation, smoke started to appear from under the kitchen door and small tendrils slowly rose. There wasn’t much time left.
* * *
“Stop the car,” Inspector Wong ordered as soon as she saw the unmarked police car on the side of the road. Before the car came to a halt, she had already jumped out and ran toward the car with the two dead bodies. Even before she arrived, she knew Sam had been right. The men inside were dead. Shot through the head. The sight filled her with an ice-cold anger. Only when she turned around, she noticed that one of her Sergeants had followed her. Vincent Rivers stood unmoving. His face was white as a sheet. She put a hand on his arm and gave him a gentle shake.
“I know, Vinnie,” she whispered. She couldn’t hide the pain in her voice. “We’ll mourn later. Let’s nail the bastard who did this.”
Vinnie nodded and turned to his Inspector. “Let’s go get him.”
They headed back to their car and Inspector Wong motioned to the two police cars behind her to follow them. They traveled up the narrow road as fast as they could, leaving behind big clouds of dust, and a thin, grey layer on the roof of the unmarked police car on the side of the road.
* * *
Sam remained close to the wall when she crossed the hall toward the kitchen door. If the door opened, at least she wouldn’t be immediately visible. It would give her a few extra seconds to respond. But that was only if things went well. The sounds coming from the kitchen became clearer as Sam approached. Her grip on the wooden handle of the axe was so tight, her knuckles turned white. Small drops of perspiration formed on her forehead and upper lip. The back of her shirt was sticking to her body. Holding her breath, she listened, trying to make sense of the little bits and pieces of conversation she could hear.
“As much as I like standing here chatting with the lot of you, I think it’s time to split,” Lucy said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I don’t know about you all, but becoming smoked meat is not on my list of things to do today.” She walked toward the kitchen door, but was stopped by Sarah.
“We all know we’re in a predicament here, Lucy,” Sarah said. “But let’s stick together, okay? It will give us a better chance. And maybe the police—”
“I haven’t heard or seen any of our faithful civil servants yet. So, I suggest we’ll find a way to get out of here.”
Fiona and Joan were stuffing wet tea towels under the door, to try and keep the smoke out. They wordlessly worked together like a well-oiled team, while Fred stood watching, his face pale and his hands trembling.
“I could try to get out,” he suddenly said. “If I’ll come rushing through the door, Steven will come after me. That will give all of you time to try and get away. Run to the back of the house.”
“No.” Jody almost shouted. It was the first word she uttered in a long time and everybody froze. She rubbed her sore cheek and shook her head. “We’re all in this together. We can’t sit here and wait for the house to really catch fire. What do we know about the road up here? It could be blocked as well. I agree with Lucy, we need to get out. But Fred, we need to stick together. Don’t be the hero, okay?”
Without warning, the kitchen door flew open and Sam stormed inside. Her eyes were wide with anxiety and she had a big axe clutched in her hands. Immediately, her eyes bored into Fred’s and frightened he walked backward, until he felt the kitchen counter giving him something to lean against.
“Stay where you are,” Sam growled, aware of the fear she saw in his eyes. Her gaze turned to Jody, who was still sitting in her chair. One side of her was face badly bruised and smeared with blood that was still slowly seeping from her eyebrow.
“Oh, honey.” Sam knelt in front of Jody and carefully wrapped her arms around her slumped figure. She felt Jody relax against her, putting her sore head on her shoulder.
“Sam,” came the muffled response. “I’m so glad you’re here. I knew you’d come back. He said he’s after you now. I... I was so scared I—”
“It’s okay,” Sam comforted Jody. “I’m here now. Megan is at the police station. I called them and they should be here any minute.”
“The house is on fire, Sam,” Fiona said. Her dark eyes were wide, but her expression was calm.
“We’ve got to get out of here then,” Sam stated. Jody was still wrapped in her arms. “Do you think you can walk?”
“Yeah, sure. Anything’s better than being a barbecue’s main course,” Jody joked. She felt so much better now Sam was back.
“Steven has a gun,” Fred said. He was still intimidated by the furious look Sam had greeted him with when she came storming in.
“I have an axe,” Sam answered. “We can chop down a door or window and get out.”
“I’ve got a gun as well,” Fred said. He reached under his shirt and pulled out the gun.
“Give it to me,” Sarah said, determination was written all over her face. She took the gun from Fred’s outstretched hand. “It’s mine and I do know how to use it.”
Joan McDonnell had watched the exchange quietly and she cast a worried look at Sam.
“Are you sure this is the best option, Sam. Somebody might get hurt.”
“I don’t know, Joan,” Sam truthfully answered. She rubbed circles across Jody’s back, not even aware she was doing it. “All I know is that we’ve got to get out of here. When I came in through the bedroom window about five minutes ago, the coast was clear. But whatever we do, we need to get out of the kitchen. Those towels won’t stop the smoke for long.”
“Let’s go then,” Lucy said. She opened the door toward the hall, dragging Fiona with her.
Sam took Jody’s hand. “Can you walk?”
Jody nodded and stood up, which increased the throbbing in her head. She breathed in a few times to fight the dizziness and smiled when she saw Sam’s worried expression. “I’m fine, honey. Just a bit of a head ache. Let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Outside, Little Steven had stacked the wooden furniture that was on the veranda against the door and had drenched it with gasoline he had found in a jerrycan. He hadn’t used it all up, but saved some to sprinkle on the wooden shutters of the bedroom windows.
With delight, he had seen the chairs and table catch fire and he chuckled when he realized the house would go up in flames, destroying everything and everyone in it. Joe would be proud of him. The tall Dutch woman wasn’t inside, so that meant he’d still have a chance to find her and bring her to his boss. That would get him all the money he needed to run from the police. He would be rich and they would never be able to track him down. If only those last few shutters would catch fire. Little Steven tried again to set fire to one of the bedrooms, but somehow it didn’t work. He frowned and softly mumbled a few curses, when after a little sputtering, there was only a thin tendril of smoke, but no flames. “More gasoline,” he grumbled, turning around to walk back to the veranda. He tilted his head when he heard a sound and his eyes narrowed when he looked toward the driveway. He could hear the revving of engines and through an opening in the trees, he could see a cloud of dust.
“Damnit!” He looked around, trying to find a way to escape. He knew there was only one road leading to the house, but now that wasn’t an option. He had to get away and he had to do it fast.
Little Steven looked around and his ey
es fell on a narrow track, leading toward the trees behind the house. With a worried glance over his shoulder he began to run toward the line of trees. Hoping he would be invisible from whoever was speeding up the road.
* * *
“Sonofabitch,” Inspector Wong exclaimed, when they finally rounded the last corner, getting a full few of the house. “It’s on fire!” She quickly grabbed the microphone of the radio and pushed the button. “This is Inspector Wong. We need assistance. There’s a fire up on Junction road. I repeat, the house on top of Junction road is on fire. Over”
“Roger that, Inspector. House on top of Junction road. The fire brigade is on its way. Ambulance as well. Over.”
“Thanks, Les. Over and out.”
Three police cars skidded to a halt and six officers jumped out. They crouched down behind the relative safety of the cars. With their guns drawn they waited for their Inspector to make the decision about what to do next.
Inspector Wong’s eyes scanned the house and the trees behind it. Everything seemed clear, but she could see it would be easy for someone to hide behind the dense bushes and trees. It would be so easy to walk into a trap and be ambushed. “We know there are at least two of them,” she shouted. Her eyes never left the burning furniture on the porch. The flames were licking at the roof of the veranda. “I’ll go in first. Vinnie, you are next. Trisha and Peter, you’ll follow us when I give the signal. Bob and Carl, cover our backs. Keep an eye on those trees.” Not wasting any time, Inspector Wong sprinted toward the house. The adrenaline rushed through her body, giving her the strength and speed she needed to reach the porch in record time. Nothing happened. No noise, except for the crackling of burning wood.
Vinnie followed his Inspector. They knew their action was risky. They could easily be shot from somewhere behind the trees, but they didn’t have much of a choice. There were people inside the building and waiting too long could mean they’d end up be severely injured, or worse, dead. Vinnie crouched down next to Inspector Wong and looked at her with a questioning gaze. He was panting and the perspiration had already formed on his forehead.