Georgia snapped off the light, pulled out her Sig, and dropped to the floor. “Get down. Now!” But Sechrest appeared to be frozen. “Jesus, Jesus,” she moaned. “I told you there was a noise. Oh fuck!” “Did you hear me, Sandy?” She hissed. “Get down on the god-dammed floor.” Finally Sandy rolled off the couch onto the floor. “I’m getting the shotgun.”
“No. Let me handle it.”
“Like you handled the noise? No way.”
Georgia winced. Sechrest was right. She’d let down her guard. One of the first things you learn as a cop is to be aware of your surroundings. She’d been too interested in what Sechrest was saying.
Sechrest thumped over to the table and retrieved the gun.
“You know how to handle a shotgun?” Georgia asked.
“Are you kidding? My father taught me when I was a kid.”
Georgia nodded, more to herself. It would have to do. She crawled to the window and stood to one side. Inclining her head, she cautiously peered out. Headlights were approaching Sechrest’s cabin. A sedan, she thought. Dark. Like the car that stopped by Sechrest’s house.
The car slid to a stop before turning into Sechrest’s driveway, and Georgia realized they’d spotted her Toyota. Shit. She’d left it at the edge of the road in case she needed a quick getaway. Which meant whoever was in the sedan could see her plates and probably identify her.
“Can you tell who it is?” Sechrest sounded panicked.
“No.”
“Christ. What are we going to do?”
Georgia thought about it. She and Sechrest both had a weapon. If only one or two people were in the car, they could give as good as they’d get. But what if there were four of them, not one or two? And what if Sechrest didn’t really know how to shoot? And what would happen to Georgia if she got away but Sechrest didn’t? The woman was just about to tell her something important about Chris Messenger and the bank. There were too many unknowns to make a stand. After expending so much effort to find her, Georgia couldn’t afford the risk of something bad happening. “Is there a back door?”
“No.”
“Is there any way out of here beside the front?”
“My little brother used to crawl out the bathroom window.”
“Let’s go.”
“There’s no way I’ll fit,” Sechrest said.
“I’ll make sure you do.”
The door to the sedan opened, and a figure slipped out of the car. Medium height. Burly. A man. But the dome light didn’t come on—he must have disconnected it—so Georgia didn’t get a good look at him. She could see he was carrying something long and narrow. A shotgun? A rifle? Georgia was torn: part of her wanted to take him, but every second she delayed meant less time to escape. “Let’s go. Now.”
Sechrest faltered as she got up. The shotgun was tilting her off balance.
“Maybe you should leave it,” Georgia said. “I’ve got a gun.”
“Not on your life.” Sechrest’s voice was resolute. “The bathroom’s this way.”
They stumbled through the dark to the bathroom. Georgia shoved aside the shower curtain. Her heart sank. The window, above the bathtub, sat behind a tiled ledge, but was only fifteen inches square. She wasn’t even sure she could squeeze through. But it was their only option. Thankfully, it was square, not casement. She wouldn’t have to detach the glass, a task that would cost precious time.
Georgia raised the window. A mesh screen was in the way. She pulled an army knife out of her pocket and slashed through it.
“Can you hear anything?” She whispered.
“No.” Sechrest whispered back.
If Sechrest’s heart was pounding as loud as hers, Georgia thought, it would be hard for her to hear anything.
Georgia hoisted herself up to the shelf and thrust her head through the window. It was only about six feet off the ground. If she could squeeze through, she could fold her arms and legs and drop into a roll as she fell. She might not hurt herself too badly. She stretched out her arms, using them as leverage to push herself through the small space, but her shoulders got stuck. They were broad, perhaps even wider than her hips. She wriggled and pushed and squeezed; shrugging one, then the other. Finally, her left shoulder jutted through, leaving a nasty scrape on the fleshy part of her arm. She’d be sore for a week.
Her torso slipped through but jammed at her hips. She swiveled and angled herself up forty-five degrees. Her hips wouldn’t budge.
“Shit.”
Straining, she tried to wiggle her hips through, using her arms for purchase on the side of the house. All at once, she burst through, but with so much momentum there was no time to curl up. She pitched forward and fell on the ground. She lay in the grass, trying to catch her breath. A sharp pain shot down her left arm. She got up carefully, levering it up and down. As she did, light flooded the back yard.
Georgia gasped. Her heart hammered in her chest. “What the—”
“It’s a light sensor,” Sechrest said. “It turns on whenever there’s motion in the back.”
“Great. Nothing like being sitting ducks.”
“It’ll turn off as soon we’re out of range. You can’t see it from the front, anyway. The trees mask it. That’s how my brother was able to sneak out.”
“I sure as hell hope so.” Georgia shook it off. “All right. Your turn, Sandy.”
Sechrest handed the shotgun down to Georgia, who propped it against the house.
“Arms first,” Georgia said.
Sechrest promptly got stuck.
“Shrug your shoulders one side at a time. And try to angle your body. Even an inch at a time is progress.”
Sechrest grunted with the effort but made scant headway. They were losing time. Georgia grabbed Sechrest’s arms and pulled. The woman wriggled and squirmed and moaned as the metal window frame scraped her skin. Finally, she managed to shove through the window. Like Georgia, she collapsed on the ground.
While Sechrest was pulling herself together, Georgia tried to come up with a plan. They couldn’t escape in her Toyota—they’d run straight into their pursuer. Sechrest’s neighbor’s cabin was on one side, a densely wooded area lay on the other. Castle Rock Lake was directly ahead.
A gust of wind blew her hair across her face. She pushed it behind her ears. “What’s on the other side of the woods?” Georgia asked.
“The main road. But not for a mile or so.”
“What’s down at the lake?”
“A dock. We share it with our neighbors.”
A thump and rustle sounded from the front of the cabin. Then something jiggled. He was rattling the door knob.
Sechrest gripped the shotgun. “Shit!” She whispered. “He’s trying to get inside!”
“Is there a boat?”
More rattling. “A dinghy down by the dock. Why?”
Georgia started jogging toward the dock.
“We can’t take the boat. Talk about sitting ducks!”
“Come on.” Georgia persisted.
As they approached it, she heard the crash of wood splintering. He’d broken in. They didn’t have much time.
The dock was dimly lit by the light from the back of the house. Georgia made a quick visual sweep of the dock. She spotted a rusty life preserver and an old tarp crumpled against the edge. The dinghy lay upside down a few yards away. An idea occurred to her. She ran to it and started to turn it over. “Sandy,” she hissed. “Help me.”
“I told you. We can’t go out. He’ll come after us. Or shoot us from shore.”
“Trust me.” She didn’t have time to explain.
Sechrest’s fear must have been stronger than her need for clarity because she came over and together they flipped over the dinghy. As they dragged it down to the water’s edge, Georgia turned around. A chill raced up her spine. The light at the back of the house had gone off, but the beam from a flashlight was bobbing and weaving through the bathroom window from which they’d just escaped. Another minute and he would be outside with them.
Sechrest turned and saw the flashlight beam. “Oh god! Oh god. Oh god!” Her frantic whispers sounded like a broken record.
“Sandy, get it together. We are going to make it.” Georgia raced back to the dock, grabbed the tarp, and threw it into the dinghy. Suddenly light kicked on from the back of the house. The motion sensor. She turned around. The figure was outside, clearly silhouetted against the light. A man. He lifted his left hand and spread the fingers to shade his eyes against the glare. His hand looked like it was missing most of his index finger.
Her jaw clenched. Although she and Sechrest were far enough away to be out of the light, she could tell from the tilt of his head he was trying to figure out where they were. She veered across the lawn toward the cabin of Sechrest’s neighbor.
“What are you doing?” Sechrest squeaked.
Georgia grabbed a fistful of gravel and threw it as far as she could toward the neighbors’ cabin. The effect was instantaneous. The man sprinted in the direction of the sound.
Meanwhile, Georgia ran back down to the dinghy. Together she and Sechrest pushed the dinghy to the edge of the water. Too late Georgia realized she needed something to prop up the tarp. She didn’t see any oars, and she didn’t have time to look. A long tree branch would work, but there was no time for that either.
The shotgun. She could use that as a stake. “Give me the shotgun,” she ordered.
“Are you crazy?”
“Sandy, it’s our only chance. I’ve got a 9 millimeter.”
“Yeah, but what does that leave me with?”
Georgia forced herself to remain calm. “A shotgun will only work if you’re within range of your target. In a few seconds we won’t be. Look, there’s no time to argue. If you want to live past the next two minutes, hand it over.”
Sechrest didn’t move for a moment. It seemed interminable. Then she passed the gun to Georgia.
Georgia propped it up against the thwart seat. It was sturdier than she’d expected She draped the tarp over it. Maybe it would fool their pursuer into thinking a person—or two—was in the dinghy. At least for an instant.
As if on cue, the figure reappeared at the side of the house. Georgia pushed the dinghy into the lake. It started off at a sharp angle. She fished out her keys from her jacket pocket. “We need to split up. You run like hell through the woods to my car. It’s facing the main road. Start it and get out.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll cut through and meet you on the main road.”
“But what if—”
“No what-ifs.” Georgia cut in. “Just go.” She looked over her shoulder. The man had come back to Sechrest’s yard and was making his way toward the water. “Now!”
Sechrest sprinted toward the woods faster than Georgia thought possible. Georgia cut across the yard away from the man, heading into the woods fifty yards away. She was quickly shrouded by trees and brush, and she knew she couldn’t be seen. She started counting seconds, hoping Sechrest would make it to the Toyota before she reached sixty. One minute. That was all they had.
She was up to thirty when she heard a burst of machine gun fire. Fuck! The asshole had an assault rifle! He was shooting at the dinghy. If she and Sechrest had been on in the boat, they would be mincemeat by now. Which meant the diversion had been the right move. But how was she supposed to compete with an assault rifle? Compared to its firepower, her Sig was about as effective as a matchstick. She picked her way through the forest, trying to avoid tree roots and underbrush. Thorns and branches scraped her arms.
A car door slammed. An engine sputtered to life. Sechrest was in the Toyota. Georgia kept thrashing through the woods. Sandy needed to floor it. Their pursuer was undoubtedly headed toward the car.
The engine noise swelled. Another burst of machine gun fire. Georgia heard the clang of metal on metal. He was close enough to shoot at the car! The Toyota barreled down the dirt road. Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. She kept counting. By fifty-seven there were no more shots, and Georgia could barely hear the car. Did that mean Sechrest was out of range of the assault rifle? Was she safe? She wouldn’t consider the alternative.