He lay on his back, motionless, the pistol still sweeping, controlling his breathing and trying to get a sense of the layout of the big room from what he could see. He was fairly certain he'd hit Baxter, but by the sound of Baxter's heavy crash to the floor, Keith reasoned that Baxter was wearing his body armor and that the round had simply knocked him off his feet, and he'd scrambled away from the door. Baxter might be hurt, Keith thought, but a.38-caliber pistol round that had gone through a plank and hit body armor would not hurt him too badly.
Keith couldn't see much beyond the sofa and the other furniture, so he slid a few feet away toward the wall. His head and eyes continuously swept the room, left to right, as his pistol swept right to left, trusting his peripheral vision and his hearing to cover what was momentarily not in his direct line of sight, and trusting his instinct to snap fire at anything that moved.
Keith didn't know who was going to make the first move, but he was fairly certain that there weren't many moves left on the board now.
Images of Billy Marlon flashed in front of him—Billy at the bar in John's Place, Billy asking Keith if he could come along, Billy in the pickup truck on the way up here, Billy sitting with Keith in the dark woods . . . Billy writhing in agony in that hole. Billy dead.
Keith thought, too, of Annie. He knew she was here, not far away, and she knew he was here in this room.
Keith decided to make the first move, not based on rage or ego, but on the assumption that Baxter knew someone was in the room and that Baxter also knew approximately where that person was, while Keith didn't have a clue as to where Baxter was.
Keith began to rise to one knee, then heard a woman's voice from the direction of the fireplace say, He's in the far right corner, crouched with a pistol.
Before she even finished, Keith sprang up on one knee, aimed over the back of the sofa, and fired two rounds at Baxter, who had taken cover behind a wooden chest in the corner. Keith fell back behind the sofa and rolled to the right, toward the wall, as two answering rounds ripped through the sofa.
Keith lay still behind an upholstered chair.
In the two seconds it had taken him to fire, he'd caught a glimpse of Annie to his left, kneeling on the floor near the fireplace, naked. He was sure she'd seen him.
Keith was certain that at least one of his rounds had hit Baxter, but again the body armor had saved him. Keith wasn't too happy with the six-shot Smith Wesson Police Model 10 that Baxter's men used, especially not in this situation where, with one bullet left, he couldn't take a chance and open the cylinder, extract the used casings, and reload chamber by chamber.
He wondered if Baxter was using the Glock, which had a seventeen-round, quick reload magazine. It didn't matter anyway, because, as Keith suspected, now that Baxter knew for sure it was Landry, the round-counting game was about to be cut short.
As if Baxter had read Keith's mind, Baxter called out, Don't shoot, Landry. I'm standing right behind her. I got a gun to her head. So you just stand up where I can see you, hands high.
Keith figured that was coming, because he knew Baxter. He noticed that Baxter's voice was steady, but not altogether calm, even though he had everything going for him.
I want to see empty hands first.
Keith had only one option left, and Baxter had given it to him by firing. Keith played dead.
A few seconds went by, and Baxter called out, Hey, asshole. You want her to die? Stand up like a man, or I blow her fucking head off. I kid you not.
Keith heard Annie's voice say, Don't do it, Keith— followed by a loud slap and a cry of pain.
Baxter yelled out again, Hey, hero, you got five seconds, then she's dead. One!
Keith didn't think Baxter was going to kill her, and there were a lot of reasons for that, not the least of which was that Baxter didn't want to lose his human shield.
Two!
Keith knew if he stood, he couldn't expect a quick death. He held the revolver close to his body to muffle the sound, opened the cylinder, and extracted the five spent casings.
Three!
Keith began quietly slipping rounds into the empty chambers.
Four! I swear to God, Landry, you stand up, or she's dead.
Annie called out, No! Don't—
Another slap and another cry of pain, during which Keith snapped the cylinder quickly back into the frame.
Five! Okay, she gets it.
Keith held his breath and steadied himself. He wanted to stand, to shout, to shoot, to let Baxter take him, to do anything in that split second except what he knew he had to do, which was nothing.
There was a long silence in the room, then Baxter said, Hey! You dead, or playin' dead?
Keith exhaled and smiled. Come here and find out.
I can wait all fucking night, Landry.'^.
Me, too. Keith waited. One thing he thought he could count on was Annie telling him if Baxter moved toward him. Baxter's hostage, his shield, was also Baxter's problem. But apparently Baxter had also figured that out, because the light suddenly went off, and the room was black.
It was so still in the big room that Keith could hear the mantel clock ticking from thirty feet away. Then he heard Baxter say to him, One of us got an infrared scope, and one of us don't. Guess who can see in the dark.
He heard the floor squeak across the room, then heard it again, this time closer, then the squeaking stopped.
He pictured Baxter standing in about the middle of the room now, scanning along the floor, the walls, around the furniture with his night scope mounted on his rifle. The game was almost done, and Keith had only two moves left—stand and shoot into the dark, or play very dead.
He moved his right hand with the revolver under his buttocks as though he'd fallen dead on his forearm. With his left hand, he took his knife and sliced into his hairline, then smeared the blood over his face and left eye. He slid the knife into his pocket and kept both eyes open, staring dead at the unseen ceiling above him.
He heard Baxter move again, very close now, on the other side of the long sofa. Baxter said, Well . . . so you ain't playin'.
Keith couldn't actually see him, but he felt his presence looming over him, and, by his voice, he knew that Baxter was about ten feet away and that, at this close distance, the infrared image would be too blurry to detect a sign of life. Nevertheless, Keith didn't draw a breath and kept his eyelids frozen and his eyeballs dead in their sockets. But he couldn't keep the sweat beads from forming on his upper lip. He had a sense, a feeling, of the infrared scope boring into his face, the muzzle of the rifle pointed at about his throat. Somewhere across the room, he heard Annie sobbing.
Baxter said, Hey, Landry. You playin' possum on me?
Keith knew he needed a head shot, but that wasn't possible in the dark. A hit in the body armor was the best he could hope for, and that would knock Baxter off his feet, then he'd use the knife.
I hope to God you ain't dead, shithead. I want you to feel this.
Keith understood that the next thing to happen would be Baxter firing into his leg or his groin, and he knew he had to go for it now. He yanked his gun hand free and fired three times, up and to his right where he'd heard Baxter's voice, then rolled, fired three times again, then came to a stop tight against the wall near the shattered glass door. He stared into the dark and waited.
He never heard Baxter yell out in pain, never heard the rounds slap against the body armor, and never heard the sound of a man falling. He realized that Baxter must have moved or crouched low after he'd spoken and before Keith fired. Baxter had made a smart move. Keith had made a fatal move. He heard Baxter's voice, coming from a different place, saying, So long, sucker—
Instead of the explosion of Baxter's rifle firing into him, he heard a dull thud. He had no idea of what that was, but it meant he wasn't dead, and he jumped to his feet, lunging toward the sofa with his knife in his hand. He collided with the sofa and slashed out with his knife, then something hit his legs and fell to the floor, making another, so
fter thud.
There were no more sounds in the dark room, then he heard a groan, then a floor lamp came on beside the sofa.
It took him a second for his eyes to adjust to the light, and even then he wasn't completely processing what he saw.
Baxter was kneeling on the sofa in front of him, slumped over the back, his head and bare arms dangling toward Keith. Baxter was wearing a thick gray nylon vest, and Keith saw blood running from his left arm where Keith guessed one of his bullets had grazed him. Keith looked into Baxter's eyes, which were open and were focused on him.
Keith, the knife still in his hand, glanced down at his feet and saw the rifle with the night scope lying on the floor and realized that this is what had hit him in the legs. He knew he hadn't gotten Baxter with his knife, yet Baxter was bleeding now from the mouth.
Keith was aware of Annie standing to his left, and he looked at her. She was naked, standing very rigid, her eyes a million miles away, and her right hand still on the lamp switch. Then he noticed the poker in her left hand, hanging at her side. She wasn't looking at him, but was staring at the back of Cliff Baxter's head.
Baxter groaned, and his head lolled to the side, the blood still trickling from his mouth. ^»
Keith looked back at Annie. He said nothing and made no move but kept looking at her until finally she turned toward him.
The sofa was between him and her, but he put out his arm, reaching past Baxter, and motioned for her to give him the poker. He noticed now that she had leg irons around her ankles. He made another motion for her to hand him the poker, but she shook her head.
Cliff Baxter groaned again, and Keith looked at him. Blood was running down the sides of his neck now, and Keith said to him, but for Annie's benefit, You brought this on yourself. You know that.
Baxter raised his head, and, still conscious, looked at Keith and said, Fuck you . . . Then he tried to stand and turn around, his head and eyes moving around the room. Annie, Annie, I—
She swung the poker in a wide overhead arch and brought it down hard against the top of her husband's head, sending him sprawling back over the couch.
Keith could actually hear the skull crack and saw Baxter's eyes bulge out of his sockets and blood pour from his nose. Keith was not at all surprised by that second, fatal blow—he was certain she knew far better than anyone else what she was doing and why.
Annie dropped the poker to the floor and looked at Keith.
He said, All right . . . it's all right . . . He continued to speak softly to her as he moved around the sofa. She took a tentative step toward him, then a longer step, but the chain pulled taut and she stumbled. He caught her arms and moved her gently back into a chair, making her sit down. He took off his shirt, put it around her shoulders, and put his hand on her cheek. It's okay.
Keith stepped away from her and picked up the poker. He took a long stride toward the sofa and brought the poker down with all his strength on the top of Baxter's already smashed skull. He noted, irrelevantly, that Baxter was in his underwear, that his skin was pale, and that his sphincter had let loose.
Keith threw the poker on the floor and turned to Annie. He said quietly, I killed him.
She didn't reply.
He said again, Annie, I killed him. He's dead. It's over.
She looked at Keith.
He knelt in front of her and took her hands, which were cold and clammy. He said, It's okay now. You're going to be all right. We're going back to Spencerville now.
She nodded, and tears ran down her cheeks. She said, Thank you.
This wasn't the time, Keith thought, to thank her for saving his life, because Keith wanted to establish a different set of events in her mind. He rubbed her hands and asked her, Are you hurt?
No. She touched his face where the blood was still wet from the knife cut. You're hurt.
I'm fine. He saw a bruise on her face and bruises on her legs. Her eyes looked all right, though her skin was pale and cold. As he held her hands, he felt that her pulse was fast but regular. You're okay. You're tough.
She ignored this and said to him, He has the keys around his neck. I want these off. She jiggled the manacles around her ankles. I want them off.
He smiled at her. Okay.
He stood, went over to Baxter's body, and ripped the key chain off Baxter's bloody neck. He knelt in front of Annie again and, as he tried a few keys, he noticed the padlock hanging from the chain and the shackle running through the big eyebolt. He asked, How did you manage that?
I unscrewed it with the poker. '
He nodded. Keith unlocked the leg manacles and rubbed her ankles. Okay?
Yes.
Let's get you dressed and out of here.
She didn't seem to want to move, but then she looked at Cliff Baxter slumped dead over the back of the sofa and said, Yes, I want to get out of here. Help me up.
He stood and helped her stand, turning her away from the dead body. He walked with his arm around her as she made her way toward the hallway, his shirt draped over her shoulders.
She stopped and moved away from him. I can do this. Wait here. I'll be dressed in a few minutes.
Okay.
She hesitated a moment, then looked at him and asked, There was someone else outside, wasn't there?'
Yes. Billy Marlon.
Is he dead?
Yes.
I'm sorry.
Not your fault.
She looked at Cliff Baxter, then at Keith and said, I killed him. He didn't reply.
She put her hand on his face and looked into his eyes a long time, then said, I knew you'd come. I told you I would.
Well . . . I hope you think it was worth it. He smiled at her and kissed her. What are friends for?
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Billy Marlon's pickup truck rolled south along Route 127. By the time Keith and Annie reached the Ohio border, the dawn was breaking over the frosty fields and meadows.
Keith glanced at Annie and said, Why don't you try to get some sleep?
I want to stay awake and look at you.
He smiled. I've looked better.
You look fine.
You, too, he said. In fact, he knew, neither of them looked their best, but Annie had put on some makeup and was wearing a white wool turtleneck and jeans. She had washed and bandaged his knife wound, but neither of them had wanted to stay in the lodge long enough to shower, or for her to pack anything, and he hadn't taken any of the guns. There had been a sort of silent consensus between them to leave everything behind an9 get out of that house of horrors.
He said to her, I broke into your house before I came to the lodge, to look for clues. I wanted you to know that.
That's all right. She smiled again. You're such a gentleman. Was everything clean?
It's a nice house. He added, You're still a neat freak.
There's a pig inside trying to get out.
Good.
They drove on in silence awhile, and when they spoke, it had little or nothing to do with the last three days.
She'd held her hand in his for most of the drive down, and even when he used the floor shift, she kept her hand over his. This reminded him of when they were in high school, on those occasions when he couldn't use the family car, and he had to pick her up in the farm truck, and she'd keep her hand on his as he shifted gears.
Keith said, It's going to be a beautiful day.
Yes. I like to see the sun rise. She added, Especially this one.
Right. A few minutes later, he said, Billy Marlon told me you were always nice to him. He appreciated that.
She didn't reply.
Keith said, He wanted to do what he did. He had a score to settle.
I know. I know about his wife.
Keith nodded.
Annie said, I always knew that, one day, all of Cliff's bad deeds would catch up with him. She added, He did bring it on himself.
That's usually the case.
She asked him, Would you have killed him? I mean, if
you didn't have to kill him in self-defense?
I don't know. I really don't know.
I don't think you would have. It's all right. You're a good person. You made me a promise. She added, I didn't make any such promise to anyone.
He didn't respond to that but changed the subject and said, We'll stop at a roadside place up ahead near the Interstate. I'll buy you breakfast.
I look awful. So do you.
I have to meet someone at the truck stop.
Oh . . . the man you called from the lodge?
Yes.
Your friend from Washington?
Yes.
She didn't say anything further, and, a few minutes later, Keith pulled into a truck stop off the Ohio Turnpike.
She said, I'll stay here.
No, I want you to meet Charlie, and I want you to call your sister.
They got out of the pickup truck and went into the coffee shop.
Charlie Adair was sitting in a booth near a window, wearing the first and only British tweed suit in the place, drinking coffee, smoking, and reading a newspaper. He stood as they approached, smiled, and said, Good morning.
Keith and Charlie shook hands, and Keith said, Charlie Adair, I'd like you to meet Annie Baxter.
He took her hand and said, I'm very glad you could come.
Thank you. I'm very glad I could be here.
They all sat, and Charlie ordered two more coffees. He said, This is a great place. Everyone here smokes. He asked Annie, Do you mind if I smoke?
Annie shook her head.
Charlie lit another cigarette and said to her, Keith and I had some words before he went up to Michigan, so we wanted to apologize to each other in person.
Annie replied, And you wanted to get a look at me.
Absolutely. You're beautiful.
I am, you know, but not at this moment.
Charlie smiled, then said, I think you are. He added, I'm not going to take Keith away, so let's be friends.
Okay.
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