Rifleman sagged against the camper, his wounded eye swollen shut. “Pick it up, Crazy Horse,” he muttered wearily. “We need to get going.”
Jonathan knelt in the snow, trying to fit one end of the lug wrench on to one of the nuts. With his left arm in a sling, he had to work right-handed, against his natural preference. At first he chalked up the uncooperative nuts to unscrewing them the wrong way. Finally he realized that he’d compensated correctly: all five had simply frozen to the wheel.
But that was okay. It gave him time to piece together what had happened. Mary and Lily had fled into the woods after nicking Rifleman with that arrow. Then they’d doubled back to the camper, probably hoping to rescue him. But Mary had discovered something in that album that had put the fear of God in these men. That it was connected to the little girls who’d scribbled farewell notes in his prison, he was certain. That Lily was to be their next victim, he was equally sure. What he just couldn’t figure out was how these two had come across his little girl, who three months ago had only wanted to go back to Maine and make out with Marc Freneau. If he hadn’t been so scared, he would have laughed—last spring he would have killed Freneau if he’d touched Lily. Now, he would give the gawky, pimply-faced boy his blessings and the keys to his truck if he could magically show up and drive his child away from this madness.
At least she’s gone now, he told himself as he pushed hard against one nut. Mary was probably halfway to Murphy by now, Lily in tow. For that, he was so grateful he wanted to cry. At least neither of them would have to watch him die.
That these men would kill him, he had no doubt. Rifleman, especially, took great pleasure in pressing that bullpup into the back of his skull. He would die quickly, a good death he’d dispatched to a number of hurt and wounded animals. But he would not see his child again. Would not attend the story of her life. He realized that this was his tragedy, the missing out. Not the rest of his life, but Lily’s. However he could, he decided, he wasn’t going down without a fight. Even with a bad arm and one stupid little Swiss Army knife.
“Hurry up, Crazy Horse!” Rifleman poked him with the gun. “You work like an old woman!”
“The lug nuts are frozen,” Jonathan said. “I can’t loosen them with just one arm.”
The man snorted.“Oh, come on. You’re goldbricking.”
“See for yourself.” Jonathan stood up and backed away from the wheel, watching to see what Rifleman would do. If the bastard put the rifle down to struggle with the lug wrench, he might be able to grab it. He would have to move fast, and immediately start firing an unfamiliar weapon, but it was his only chance. He held his breath and waited.
Rifleman glanced at Handgun, who was staring at his burning papers, then with a long-suffering sigh, he walked over to the lug wrench. He slung the rifle over his shoulder, held the wrench in place with one hand and pressed down on the thing with his foot. The nut still wouldn’t budge. He switched the wrench to different lug and gave another kick, with the same result.
“Shit,” he whispered. Frowning, he unshouldered the bullpup and leaned it against the side of the camper. As soon as he grasped the wrench with both hands, Jonathan made his move.
He leapt toward the gun. His eyes were focused on the barrel of the weapon when something flitted across his field of vision. Instinctively he flinched, as a new arrow pinged against the side of the camper, ricocheting off to plummet harmlessly into the snow. Lily! Jonathan realized, terrified. She was still here, shooting her mankillers!
He lunged for the bull pup, but Rifleman had heard the ping of the arrow as well. He turned, and with a vicious kick to Jonathan’s torn shoulder, pushed the rifle just out of his reach.
“You bastard,” he cried. “I’m gonna kill you, but only after you watch me kill your kid.”
Jonathan rolled over to face the snowy woods beyond. “Atli!” he screamed. “Atli now, Lily! And don’t come back!”
He heard a sharp click, followed by a thunderous volley of bullets. Hot shell casings rained down on him like sparks from a fire.
“Leroy!” Rifleman yelled.“The girl’s back!”
As Chet fired off another volley, Leroy ran over to Jonathan, grabbing the rope around his neck. He pulled him to his feet and shoved him forward, turning Jonathan into a shield from any incoming arrow.
“She must have been watching from those bushes,” said Chet as he put another clip in the rifle. “Her aim’s gone to shit, but she still means to fucking kill us.”
“Hang on, Chet,” replied Leroy. “I’ve got an idea.”
With Chet holding the bull pup at the ready, Leroy put his pistol to Jonathan’s temple. Clearing his throat, Leroy began to speak. “I’m sorry this has turned out so badly, Kimmeegirl. We didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”
Jonathan scanned the woods, desperate to see a shadow or the movement of a bush. But he only saw still, green pine trees that shouldered a thick blanket of white snow. If she’s hiding, she’s hiding well, he thought.
Leroy went on. “We know you’ve been in our camper. We know you’ve taken things that don’t belong to you. So we’re going to put an end to this now. You come out, return those pages you took, and everything will be just fine. If you don’t come out,” he said as he drew his pistol, “we’re going to make your father pay for it. That will be most upsetting for you to watch. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but you’ve treated us very unfairly. We’ll give you one minute to make up your mind.”
“Atli, Lily,” Jonathan called one final time, sending his words out on the frigid air, praying that she was too far away to hear them. “Atli now. And never forget I love you.”
A throbbing in her left leg awakened Coza Lambert. At first she thought it was simply part of the nightmare she was having about Teo, but when she opened her eyes she knew it was real—some new injury she’d sustained when she’d pinwheeled down that ridge. Yawning, she rubbed her eyes and scooted closer to the woodstove, in hopes that heat might soothe her aching back and legs. But the warmth provided no relief.
Propping up on one elbow, she saw that SBI was still asleep on the other side of the stove. She reached for her backpack, undecided about whether to smoke a cigarette or one of the joints she kept in her sock. The joint might ease her pain, but it would make her fuzzy and hungry. A cigarette would at least make her more alert. Plus SBI wouldn’t go off on her with his drug mule rap.
She dug a smoke out of her backpack and lit up. As she enjoyed her cigarette, she gazed at SBI, wondering what he looked like naked, how he might make love to someone. Probably pretty nice, she decided. A guy like SBI would take his time, mindful of her pleasure. Not like Teo and the rest of them, three poke wonders who couldn’t wait to put their pants back on. The notion of sex with SBI begged the question of Mary Crow, the woman he loved. What had happened to her? Had she gotten cold feet about marriage? Decided to dump SBI for her old flame who was living in this shack?
“Not unless she’s fucking nuts,” Coza whispered. What then? She tried to think of everything Teo had said about this Mary Crow. Usually she ignored his rants, but she remembered the unending venom with which he’d raged about this woman. “She’s smart and she’s Cherokee,” he kept saying. “That’s like fighting a snapping turtle. She’ll bite and hang on and pull me down until I drown.” She’d laughed at the image of Teo being drowned by a turtle until she realized how scared he was.
Suddenly, a new worry sizzled through her. What if SBI had gotten it right in the first place? What if Teo was behind all this? What if those Mexicans had been his stooges? Maybe he’d just told her they were illegals wanting to go to DC when they were really going to help him kill Mary Crow. If Teo got caught, he would pull her down with him, telling the cops some ridiculous lie, like she’d put him up to all the drug selling. Then she would wind up in prison while his fancy lawyer would get him off.
“No,” she told herself, trying to put the brakes on her own panic. She’d seen those illegals—a raggedy-looking Latino couple with three kids, scared of being caught by ICE or shot by the grubs. Still, she knew how clever Teo was at setting things up. She was wondering if she ought to crawl over and tell SBI her suspicions when she heard a series of distant pop-pop-pop-pop-pops. Most people would think someone was shooting firecrackers. But she knew better. She’d heard automatic rifle fire before.
Immediately, she reached for SBI. “Hey,” she said, giving his leg a rough shake. “Wake up.”
“What’s going on?” He sat up, immediately reaching for his pistol.
“Rifle fire,” she said. “Not close, but definitely in the hood.”
Before he could answer, another series of pops floated through the air.
“Shit.” He got to his feet and peered out a crack in the smokehouse door. “Can you tell where it’s coming from?”
“That way, I think.” She pointed past the remains of the cabin. “I’ve heard it twice, in the past two minutes.”
“Okay.” SBI took the safety off his pistol. He scooped up the rifle, then stopped. “You stay here. I’ll be back.”
“No way!” Coza struggled painfully to her feet. “You’re not leaving me here for Teo to shoot.”
“Teo?” He looked at her, his gaze turning so cold it scared her. “If Teo’s here you need to tell me, now.”
“I had a kind of dream,” she explained, floundering with her words. “That he hadn’t told me the truth about those Mexicans. That maybe he really is behind all this. I never told you, but Mary Crow was all Teo talked about, last weekend. He hates her big time. She scares him.”
“I wish you’d mentioned that before, Coza.”
“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” she said. “I haven’t lied to you. And I’ve led you on the only trail I saw. If Teo comes here and finds me with all his money, he’ll kill me. And it won’t be a quick bullet in the head, either.”
She tried to hold back her tears, but they came anyway. She was scared. She did not want Teo to kill her in the middle of this frozen hell. She wanted to go to California and walk on the beach. She wanted to see Tesora again.
“You can barely walk,” said SBI. “Just find someplace to hide and you’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “He’ll find me. Please,” she begged. “Let me go with you.”
He frowned as he strapped Walkingstick’s old Remington over his shoulder. “Have you ever shot a rifle before?”
“A couple of times.”
“Then you know what to do. You’ve got a range of about a hundred yards with this one. The length of a football field.”
His words buzzed inside her head like bees.“How am I going to shoot the rifle if you’re carrying it?”
“If Teo’s the one doing the shooting, I’ll give it to you. Otherwise, just stay behind me and try to keep up.”