Authors: Creston Mapes
Coon moved fast toward the policeman and pointed the gun up below his chin. “Just do what I say.”
With a hand up, Dennis calmly undid his holster buckle and lowered it to the ground.
Outside, Rusty barked.
Jack sat forward, elbows on knees, getting his hands as close as possible to the gun strapped to his ankle.
“Coon, what do you think you’re doin’?” Travis said. “You ain’t gonna—”
“Shut up, Travis,” Coon said. “DeVry, sit on the floor, next to Claire.”
The officer slowly did as he said.
Jack hoped Pam had called the police.
But those men were outside—
now.
The veins in Jack’s wrists and temples pounded. He had to do something.
The police radio blurted a shot of static. “Officer DeVry,” came a female voice. “What’s your ten-twenty? Over …”
“Don’t even think about answering that,” Coon said.
Dennis nodded and held up his hands.
It was probably better if he didn’t answer—maybe they would send help.
“My job is just to hold you here. That’s it.” Coon’s nose dripped.
“So you been in on this from the start,” LJ said.
“No … no.” Coon moved the gun across the room, pointing at each of them. “I was helping Galen.” He spoke as if he was trying to convince himself. “Demler-Vargus, they … they assured me there was no wrongdoing. They simply wanted to make sure they gathered any outstanding accusations—”
“Did you poison Daddy?” LJ pointed a bony finger, nostrils flaring.
“It wasn’t my fault. Their people got involved.” Coon shook his head. “I … they … my job was just—”
“They paid you to get all Daddy’s evidence,” Travis said. “And what else? Kill him? Kill us?”
“No!” Coon whipped the gun toward Travis. If Coon turned twenty degrees more, his back would be to Jack.
“They promised me you would be compensated,” Coon said.
“So I’m right. You was double-dippin’,” Travis said. “And look what it got you. You’re goin’ down, boy.”
Coon wiped the sweat from his forehead with the wrist of his free hand.
“It backfired. I admit it. That’s why they ganged up on me.” He pointed to the bandages on his face. “Because I refused to play any part in hurting anyone! I’m out of it after tonight. If you just do what I say, I’m not going to hurt you—”
“But someone’s goin’ to, ain’t they!” LJ lashed out. “You’re no better than Judas. If you do get away, I hope you do what he done … spill his own guts out.”
“Don’t count on it,” Coon said.
The police radio blared again. “Officer DeVry, do you read me? What is your ten-twenty, please? Do you read me? Over …”
“Ignore it,” Coon said.
“They’ll be here any minute,” Dennis said.
But the officer didn’t know those men were outside. What were they planning? What had they already done to Jenness and Tatum? Jack’s fear spilled out in words.
“Who’s outside, Coon?” he said. “Who are those guys? What were they doing at Spivey’s house?”
Coon whirled around toward the door, as if Jack had seen the men standing there.
Dennis squinted at Jack, trying to figure out what he knew. The others watched in confusion.
The dog howled outside.
“Shut up!” Coon yelled. “Everyone just shut up. I’ve had enough!”
He latched his briefcase with one hand while keeping the gun trained on them with the other. Sweat dripped down his nose and onto the briefcase. He threw his coat over his arm, grabbed the briefcase, and backed toward the door.
Jack eyed Dennis, then LJ and Travis.
Dare they dive for the guns?
DeVry must’ve seen the wildness in each of their eyes. “Everybody just sit tight.” He spoke evenly. “He’s not going to use the gun. Jack, what do you know about others outside?”
“Shut. Up!” Coon fired a round into the ceiling.
Claire screamed as drywall crumbled to the floor. Bo jammed his fingers into his ears. Travis embraced Claire. LJ clenched his teeth, chomping at the bit to strangle Coon.
“I’ll use it!” Coon said. “I’ve gone this far. Don’t make me shoot you.”
Bang.
The distinct shot of a gun rang outside the house.
An animal whimpered. Rusty?
Coon’s eyes danced. He backed all the way into the kitchen and dropped the coat and briefcase on the table. “Do. Not. Move.” He turned his head, separated the slats in the blinds, and looked outside.
Jack’s cue! He ripped up the cuff of his pants, undid the Velcro on the holster, and yanked the gun out.
Dennis and LJ were in motion for the weapons on the floor.
Jack racked the slide and trained the gun on Coon with trembling hands.
Coon had to have heard the commotion, but he was frozen, staring out the window.
His big shoulders slumped. “What the …”
Then he ripped at the blinds like an animal and smashed his face against the glass.
“Nooooooo!”
Chapter 40
Pamela was about to have a nervous breakdown as she tried to keep her mother calm and the girls asleep. Something was wrong in that house. After Jack hung up so abruptly, she called the police and told them about the two men outside, and that Officer DeVry was inside.
“Did you hear that noise?” Margaret glanced at Pamela and glared back at the house.
Pamela thought she might have heard a faint pop.
“It sounded like a gunshot. Pam, we’ve got to do something.” Margaret leaned over the dashboard, peering at the strange men who stood talking, half hidden behind the trunk of the silver car, about forty yards from the Randall house.
“I don’t know what more to do, Mom. Officer DeVry is armed. Jack’s armed. What more can we do … we’ve got the girls—”
“Since when is Jack armed?” Margaret said.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“Jack signaled they were in trouble,” Margaret said. “He’s going to be in bigger trouble if those guys go into the house.”
Pamela’s mind spun.
“Start the car,” Margaret ordered. “At least it’ll distract them. Let them know someone else is here.”
It might be a good idea.
But she didn’t want to attract the men to the car …
Should she call Jack again?
Surely the police would be there soon.
A howling orange dog came prancing around the corner, out of the shadows, heading toward the men.
It was freezing in the car, because it hadn’t been running for some time. The windows were starting to fog.
Pamela could see steam rising from where the men stood, conversing.
The dog stopped about twenty feet shy of them, but continued barking.
“I can’t figure out why—”
Before it could register in Pamela’s brain what she was seeing—one of the men lifting a gun toward the dog—the shot flashed. Its muffled
pop
jolted Pamela out of her dreamlike state.
The dog yelped and scrambled back into the shadows.
The men arched backward, laughing, then bent down into the trunk.
“Start the car,” Margaret fumed. “If you don’t, I will!”
When had her mother gotten such courage?
But the girls …
“We need to act!” Margaret said.
“Mommy?” It was Faye, awake.
“What’s going on?” Rebecca sat up.
Pamela turned to the girls. “Sit back, honey, and get your seat belt on.” She could barely breathe. “Both of you, buckle your seat belts.”
“What’s happening?” Rebecca tilted her head with a puzzled look. “What are those men doing? What do they have?”
Pamela felt a hard tug on her arm. Margaret’s eyes were enormous, her mouth agape as she stared in horror. She was squeezing Pamela’s hand so hard it hurt. Either she didn’t want to frighten the girls or she was too scared to get a word out.
Pamela forced herself to look.
The men were hoisting huge canisters from the trunk of the car and shuffling with them toward the house.
Alarms blared in Pamela’s head.
“Start the car.” Margaret’s shallow voice sounded like a ghost.
The men were hunched over from the weight of the tanks and struggled to lift and rock the canisters, back and forth, liquid sloshing out the spouts.
Everything flicked to slow motion.
The engine turning over jolted Pamela.
Her mother had started the car.
“What are they spilling?” Rebecca said.
“You’ve got to
drive!
” Margaret screamed. “We’ve got to save them.”
Pamela’s head dropped. She glanced at the steering wheel, the dashboard lights, the gear shift.
“Move over!” Margaret was coming onto her side.
“No.” Pamela looked up. Saw an opening, right into the grass. “Girls … hold on. We’ve got to help Daddy.”
She put the car into drive.
“They see us!” Margaret said. “Go! Move!”
Both men set their cans down and stared in the direction of the car.
“What’s wrong with Daddy?” Fay’s voice bumped from the back.
The men whipped their coats back and grabbed their weapons.
“Dear God, help us.” Pamela gritted her teeth and punched the accelerator.
Chapter 41
“Drop it, Coon!” In a flash, Dennis had his weapon braced in front of him and was moving quickly toward the kitchen where Coon stood glued to the window.
Jack moved in behind him with his gun drawn.
The others had armed themselves and were following suit.
Coon’s gun clattered to the floor.
“Pam called me earlier from the car.” Jack’s heart thundered. “Two men came out of Spivey’s house—they’re outside.”
Coon turned around, his face stark white. “We’ve got to get out!” He broke for the door.
“Stop!” Dennis said. “On your knees.”
“They’re gonna torch the place!” Coon dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms. “They’re gonna kill us all! If you try to leave they’ll shoot. I know—”
“Watch him, Jack.” Dennis eased open the door, gun clutched to his chest, and worked his way around the doorframe to the porch.
Jack heard sirens far off.
With his weapon pointed at Coon, Jack went for the door right behind Dennis. He needed to get to Pam and the girls.
“LJ, watch Coon,” he said.
Boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom …
The shots were so close, they reverberated in Jack’s chest.
He hit the cold air just as Pam’s car slid sideways to a halt ten feet short of the two men lying on the ground with steam wafting up from their chests.
Dennis’s arms were locked in front of him, gun smoking, pointing at the two men he had just put down.
Jack leaped down the steps and took off for Pam’s car.
He smelled gas, natural gas.
The two men had to be dead, their bodies riddled with bloody holes. Their guns were near them on the ground, along with two large gas cans. Ralston Coon had not been seeing things.
Pam’s door bounced open; she practically rolled out of the car and into Jack’s arms.
“It’s about time.” She was crying and laughing at the same time.
Jack hugged her for all he was worth. “It’s over,” he said.
Margaret was out on her side of the car and had an arm around each girl, facing them away from the dead men.
Travis ran up, gun in hand. “LJ’s watchin’ Coon,” he said, as DeVry came toward them.
“You smell that?” the officer said.
“It’s comin’ from Spivey’s!” Travis said.
“Oh dear.” Claire took off for the trailer.
“Wait, Claire!” Travis and DeVry were right behind her.
“Go.” Pam pushed Jack. “I’m okay.”
“Sure?”
“Go!”
Jack took off too, gun in hand, the dog barking somewhere behind.
Just then a big SUV with only one headlight and a bashed front end came roaring around the corner and swung into the Randalls’ parking lot. It was Derrick, with Amy Sheets in the passenger seat.
Thank God.
Jack kept going toward Spivey’s place.
Officer DeVry was yelling for Claire to wait until he got there before going in.
The sirens were closer.
Every light in the house was on at Spiveys’, but not a sound came from inside; it was dead still. The overpowering smell of natural gas was thick in the cold night air; it made Jack nauseous. If the men had torched the Randalls’ place, Spiveys’ double-wide would have blown too.
Please let them be alive …