At Risk (35 page)

Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. He
came to an abrupt stop a foot away from my nose. I had a close-up
view of his boots, scuffed up cowboy boots with sharply-pointed
toes.

"In that case, you're gonna pay. You're gonna
wish you'd never been born."

He leaned over, and I felt his breath on my
hair. "As a matter of fact, by mornin', you're gonna be in so much
pain, you'll be beggin' me to put you down."

Robby laughed.

I closed my eyes and swallowed.

Harrison grabbed my arm, clenched his fingers
in my hair, and yanked me to my feet. I could see the knife then.
The blade was easily four inches long, a hunting knife.

"If you kill me, it'll be harder for you," I
said and hated the tremor I heard in my voice.

"Awh . . . now he's worried about me. Better
worry about yourself, you little shit. Where," he waved his arm,
"where are they, huh? I don't see no cops round here."

He turned toward his brother. "They don't
have squat."

"They know you're Drake's cousin," I said,
"and Timbrook's brother-in-law and that T&T Industries has been
wanting to buy Foxdale and--"

Harrison snatched the front of my shirt and
shoved me against the wall. "It's all your fault."

I didn't say anything, and after a moment, he
said, "Beg, damn it. Beg for your miserable life."

The faucet dripped into the lengthening
silence.

Harrison looked over his shoulder. "You have
something to soften him up, don't you, Robby?"

Robby had been watching us with about as much
emotion as I would have expected if we'd been discussing a hay
shipment.

Harrison yanked me off the wall and shoved me
down the aisle toward the back of the room. He turned me to face
the last stall.

"Kneel."

Oh, God. It can't be-- I thought back to the
guard's phone call. Why had I assumed it was him.

I stiffened.

"Kneel down," Harrison screamed. His words
echoed in the tiny room.

He kicked the back of my knee and pushed down
on my shoulders, forcing me onto my knees. In my peripheral vision,
I saw the knife in his right hand, his fingers curled loosely
around the handle.

"Robby, open the door."

A slow smile spread across Robby's face. His
eyes were curiously blank as he watched my face. He pushed back the
stall door.

The security guard was slumped in the narrow
space between the wall and toilet.

I swallowed and clenched my teeth.

His throat had been cut, and his head hung at
an angle that could only be achieved in death. His eyes were open,
staring without sight at the top ledge of the door frame. The stall
walls above him and to his left were streaked with a spray of
blood.

Bastards.

Movement caught my eye. Every muscle in my
body tensed. Something crawled across the glistening white
cartilage where his trachea had been severed. A blowfly. Another
crawled along his uniform's sharply-creased collar. Others buzzed
above our heads and bumped against the ceiling. Saliva flooded my
mouth.

Fucking bastards! A scream in my mind.

Harrison grabbed my hair and pulled my head
back so that I had to look. I closed my eyes, but it didn't make
any difference. I could see him clearly in my mind, every
detail.

That was it. What I'd missed. The guard
wasn't a horseman. He wouldn't have known that the riding area in
barn B was called an arena. It had been Harrison or Robby on the
phone, not the guard.

I wondered how he'd felt when they'd marched
him in here and thought I already knew. My stomach heaved. I
swallowed hard and tasted bile at the back of my throat.

"Johnny," Robby said, "his eyes are closed.
Think he's asleep?"

"Let's wake him up." Harrison leaned into me
and placed the knife under my ear. "This is how Robby did it." He
drew the blade across my throat. "Just like that. Shit, Cline,
you're shaking so much, you made me cut you." He chuckled. "Next
time it's gonna go all the way in, got it?"

"I think he's got it," Robby said.

Harrison pulled me to my feet and shoved me
against the wall. He stuck the point of the knife under my chin and
squinted at my face.

I forced myself to hold his gaze.

"Say something, damn it."

"Fuck you."

He pushed the knife in deeper, and I had
nowhere to go. I think he would have killed me then and there. It
was certainly in his eyes. But Robby yelled, "Don't kill him,
Johnny. Not yet. We run into the cops, we can use him."

Harrison eased up on the knife.

More blood trickled down my neck.

After a moment, Robby said, "Come on, Johnny.
We gotta get outta here."

Harrison wiped his knife off on my shirt and
slid it into a sheath on his belt. He reached into his waistband,
pulled out the gun, and casually aimed it at my chest. "Don't try
anything, Cline."

Robby grabbed hold of my arm and steered me
toward the door.

"Robby," Harrison said, "move over. You're
blocking my aim. You--"

I swung round in front of Robby, kneed him in
the balls, and wrenched free of his grasp. I bolted for the
door.

Rich was outside, but I didn't give a shit. I
was getting out of there.

As I twisted around to get hold of the door
handle, Harrison slammed into me. I hit the wall so hard, my teeth
rattled.

"Nice try, Cline." He gripped my chin and
turned my face toward his. "But you're not gettin' outta this. Not
until I put you in the ground." He shoved my face sideways. "And it
ain't gonna be no easy trip, is it Robby?"

Robby grinned, though he was no longer
standing upright. "Not for him, it ain't."

"You know," Harrison said, "he's gonna be fun
the way he don't wanna give in."

My skin prickled.

He held the gun to my head and waved me
outside. Rich spun around at the sound of the door opening.

It had stopped raining. As I stepped onto the
sidewalk, it seemed as if time had become suspended, and I was
overcome with a feeling of disbelief.

As we turned toward the barns, Robby
screeched, "Rich, you stupid sonofabitch! All the time we were in
there, and you couldn't think to turn off the lights?"

"But John told me to be a lookout," Rich
whined.

"What?" Harrison said. "You couldn't watch
the road and turn off the lights?" He shoved me toward the barn.
"Jesus Christ. Put out a neon sign, why don't ya? Send out engraved
invitations. Before you know it, everybody and his brother'll be
down here."

Harrison yanked on my arm, and I stumbled.
Rich followed alongside, glancing nervously from Harrison to Robby.
He wasn't afraid for me, though. He couldn't care less. His only
concern was for his own hide. We walked into the barn aisle and
stopped in front of the feed room.

"Go turn off the lights," Robby said.

Rich ran down the lane. The lights went out
in aisle two, and he was back in less than half a minute. "Come on,
John," his voice was high-pitched, "we gotta get outta here. We've
been here way too long and--"

"Shut up," Harrison said. "I'm sick of your
sniveling and whining. You should take a lesson from Cline, here.
He's gonna be dead soon, and he ain't whining like you." He turned
to face me. "Ain't that right, boy?"

I stared at him with what I hoped was an
expression devoid of emotion. The longer we were on the farm, the
greater the chance someone would realize that something was
wrong.

Harrison pulled me into him, then slammed me
against the feed room wall. "I want to hear you beg, damn it."

"No."

He leaned into me. His facial muscles were
stretched tight, and a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin.

"You will, you know." A thought moved in his
eyes, and he smiled. "After you're dead and buried, I'll go visit
that cute, little honey of yours. Make her feel better."

Robby laughed.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I pushed
against him. "You bastard!"

He swung the gun up hard and fast and
broadsided me. I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes. Pain
coursed through my head and settled in my eye. I heard a clicking
sound--metal against metal--and instinctively knew what it was. I
held my breath and opened my eyes. He was holding the gun in front
of my nose, and the hammer was cocked.

He pressed the muzzle into my cheek. "Ask me
not to."

Whatever I said, it wouldn't make any
difference. The longer I held out, the longer I had to live. If I
was wrong, if I had misread him, I would never know.

"Screw you."

Harrison looked over his shoulder at
Robby.

"You've got his number," Robby said. "He
doesn't like the thought of you doing his girl."

Harrison turned to face me. "You done it with
her, boy? I can hardly wait to get my hands on her."

"Go to hell!" I choked on the words. Not her.
Not Rachel.

Harrison studied my face, then nodded. "It's
a start. Let's get the fuck outta here." He pulled me away from the
wall, and Rich headed toward the doorway. "We'll drive by his
apartment," Harrison said. "See if she's there."

Robby jiggled the coins in his pocket and
cleared his throat. "Better not, Johnny. We gotta start tyin' up
some loose ends, startin' with him."

Rich poked his head out the door, then jumped
back as if he'd been shocked by a cattle prod. When he spun around,
his eyes were wide with terror.

"There's a cop car parked outside the
office." He almost screamed it.

"Shit." Harrison pushed me against the wall.
"You're gonna get rid of him. If you don't, he's dead, and you're
dead. Understand?"

I nodded.

Chapter 20

Harrison spun me around to face the wall,
then cut through the rope that bound my wrists.

"Now," he said, "get rid of him. If I even
think he's getting suspicious, I'll kill you both. Got it?"

I nodded.

"Good. Don't move out of my line of sight, or
you're dead."

I concentrated on keeping my legs steady and
stepped out of the barn.

Officer Walter Dorsett, tall, lean, and
muscular, was headed straight for me. Fifteen yards separated us.
He stopped when I did, and his hand moved instinctively to his
gun.

I cleared my throat. "Hi, Harry. Nice night."
My voice was hoarse.

Dorsett removed his gun from its holster and
held it at his side. He looked toward the barn door and, without
looking at me, said, "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on a horse."

"Everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better, Harry."

He signaled for me to approach him. When I
didn't move, he raised the gun with both hands and sighted on the
barn door.

"I'll catch up with you tomorrow, Steve," he
said loudly, then jerked his head toward the door. "What time?"

What time? What was he talking about? Oh . .
. "Three . . . three o'clock."

Dorsett glanced at me, and in that instant, I
saw movement in my peripheral vision. I turned toward the barn door
in time to see Harrison squeeze off three shots. The muzzle flash
was brilliant in the dark.

"No!" I screamed and spun around.

The force of the bullet slamming into
Dorsett's chest knocked him off his feet. The gun slipped from his
hand and clattered onto the asphalt.

"God, no," I sobbed. "No-o-o."

Harrison yanked me back into the barn. In my
mind, I could still see Dorsett's lifeless form, dark and silent on
the asphalt, his hand empty, palm face up, fingers curled toward
the black sky.

"You killed a cop!" Rich screamed. "I can't
believe it! You killed a fucking cop!"

"Shut up." Harrison shoved me against the
wall.

"What are we gonna do now? We don't have a
chance. They hunt--"

"Shut the fuck up." Harrison's voice cracked.
"It's all your fault we're in this mess--"

"What?" Rich whined.

"If you hadn't done such a lousy job tying
him up last time, he wouldn't of got away from us, and I wouldn't
be here right now, finishing the job. A job you screwed up."

"It wasn't my fault. I did what you said. No
one thought he'd get loose. At least I didn't do something stupid,"
Rich flailed his arms, "like kill a cop."

"Yeah, and I'd be stupider if I let you
continue to fuck us up, wouldn't I?"

"Yeah," Rich suddenly became very still, "eh,
I mean no."

Harrison casually pointed the gun at Rich and
pulled the trigger.

The sound in the confines of the barn was
deafening. The horse behind Rich crashed against the back wall of
his stall. All of the horses near us shied and whinnied. I hardly
noticed. Rich slid down the wall and crumpled onto the floor.

The bullet had shattered the ridge of bone
above his right eye. The other eye was wide open, seeing nothing.
His head lolled to the side, and a stream of watery blood trickled
from his nose and mouth. There was blood spatter on the grillwork
of the stall front and on the horse that stood trembling at the
back of his stall.

I swallowed. The bitter smell of burnt
gunpowder hung so thickly in the air around us, I could taste it at
the back of my throat.

"Damn it, Johnny. You shouldn't have popped
him here. The police might be able to connect him with us. And you
shouldn't have used your gun."

"So what? I'll dump it when we're done."

"Well, we can't leave him here," Robby
said.

"You!" Harrison grabbed my arm. "Drag him
down past the hay barn."

I thought about the old abandoned fire road
and the gate Dave and I had never gotten around to installing.

"Good idea." Robby studied my face. "We'll
put 'em both in the trunk. That oughta make for an interesting
ride, huh lover-boy?"

Asshole. I looked down at Rich and couldn't
imagine it.