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September watched Sunny through a crack in the loft wall. The streaming headlights sparkled the water, and revealed an insurmountable path from the barn to the truck. She'd nearly decided to let the kids out of the boxes—no way Sunny could collect them without a fire truck—when the hunting rig rose and a hunter's spotlight turned twilight to day.
The ingenious jerry-rigged affair looked precarious. Sunny somehow had secured the foot-end of the extension ladder to the top of the hunting rig. From there, it stretched horizontally toward the loft, supported at the midway point by the dumpster’s rim. The ladder extended further from there to reach the barn wall, ending about three feet lower than the loft opening.
That meant the boxes containing the kids must drop off the loft floor, land on the horizontal ladder, and be scooted the entire length back to the truck. Missed aim at any point would send the boxed kid into the floodwaters, below.
What a stupid idea, to hide the kids in the boxes! Even if Sunny had a gun, it would have been better to surprise ambush her.
Sunny's balance beam performance rated a perfect ten as she danced along the ladder toward the loft.
Crap. Too late to change plans even if she wanted to.
Just before Sunny reached the barn, September climbed down the makeshift wire ladder. As long as Sunny focused on the boxes, she'd be safe.
But almost immediately, footsteps approached September's hidden roost. She clambered around to the other side of the grillwork, putting the floor between her and a clear sight line. Her arms trembled, making the grate shimmy back and forth.
Sunny focused overhead, though, and grabbed twine that still hung from the hay trolley. She rolled it along the overhead tracks probably back to its original position over the wooden pallet of stacked boxes.
The woman muttered and cursed. Moving straps creaked and the metal rollers squealed. "I ought to shove the whole mess into the water. That'd show him. Blackmail me, will you?"
Alarmed, September climbed higher and cautiously peeked over the edge. Sunny shed her jacket, flung it angrily across the floor, and her truck keys spilled out and scattered the collection of break sticks.
So much for Melinda driving the truck to safety.
Boris Kitty lounged on the highest box, a feline king surveying his domain. "Shoo, cat. Get the hell away." Sunny poked at the cat until he hissed and jumped off. "Hate cats. Even BeeBo had a stinking cat."
Sunny's back strained with each tug on the rope she'd strung from the leather harness cradling the pallet. As she pulled, the pallet shifted, tipped, but finally rose enough to clear the wooden floor. Sunny booted the pallet to swing it over and out of the loft.
It took four tries before the pendulum swung far enough, and Sunny let the rope drop. The pallet thudded against the outside of the cement wall on the backward swing. September heard a muffled yelp. She winced, prayed Sunny hadn't heard, and that Willie could keep his dog quiet a bit longer.
Sunny kept working. Her bare arms flexed as she slowly lowered the pallet onto the ladder. Once in place, she released the rope, and bent, hands on her knees to catch her breath. September saw three parallel red stripes on her neck. Cat scratches.
The truck keys glinted. Teased. She had to get them to the kids.
Sunny gingerly stepped off onto the ladder. September heard her grunt again, and the soft scree of the wood pallet shoved across metal.
"Screw this. One by one, then."
September peeked out, and started when Boris Kitty stared at her, front paws tucked under and sitting only a few feet away. She continued to sneak peeks as Sunny nudged the first box off the pallet, and shoved it steadily on metal ladder “tracks” to reach her truck's platform. September pulled herself up onto the loft floor to be out of sight when Sunny returned, and worried there wouldn't be room for all of the boxes on the high rack platform. Sunny confirmed her worst fears when she bent her knees, lifted and then dropped the box into the truck bed several feet below.
One gasp or scream from inside the box, and Sunny would know. September held her breath, but whichever kid hid inside the first Trojan box must have stayed silent.
Sunny hurried back up the ladder to retrieve the next box, and September timed her descent to stay out of sight. Back and forth the woman toiled, tugging and pushing boxes and dumping them into the bed of her truck. The cat crept closer to the opening in the loft floor until he peered down at September, tail flicking. She hoped Sunny’s obvious dislike of cats would keep her from investigating Boris Kitty’s interest.
September's up-and-down exertion made her biceps throb and hands sting from clutching the thin wire. The truck keys rested well out of reach. Maybe she could climb up and grab them the next time Sunny went to the truck. But if caught, she couldn’t match the athletic woman, and the gun would come out. No, better to wait until the final kid-in-the-box reached the truck. She couldn't fail these kids, the way she'd failed Lenny and Steven. And Shadow.
Boris Kitty stared at her. His tail thumped, jostling one of the break sticks so it rolled a few inches along the floor. Maybe the cat could help.
September grappled in her pocket for her SUV keys. She switched on the laser light Macy loved. Aiming the red dot at the floor right in front of the cat, she held her breath and then smiled when Boris Kitty followed the lure, pouncing and chasing it across the dusty floor. Once he reached the far side of Sunny's keys, September jiggled the laser on them. He obliged by pouncing and swatting the rattling bundle across the loft closer to her. Another paw-swipe like that, and she'd be able to snag them.
Not winded in the least, Sunny ran lightly up the ladder toward the final box. Instead of the repeat of past efforts, she vaulted back into the loft and crossed to collect her jacket. And keys. Sunny saw the cat, and aimed a foot to boot Boris Kitty off the loft into the floodwaters below.
The cat spit and dodged, the kick missed. The laser light fell into the water. September lunged and grabbed Sunny’s ankle, toppling her to the floor.
Sunny shrieked, caught herself on her palms, and immediately rolled onto her shoulder and back to her feet.
September grabbed for the truck keys.
Sunny kicked them. They slid and jangled across the loft, and stopped near the final wardrobe box. The cat chased them down, and crouched over the keys, growling. Sunny straightened, ignored the cat, and drew a knife from her boot.
September scrambled to stand. Her hand closed on one of the breaking sticks, and she crouched low, jabbing it toward the other woman.
Sunny laughed. "When I bite, I don't let go." She feinted with the knife, smiling when September twisted and fell as her knee failed. Sunny moved in quickly, grabbed a handful of September's hair, and shook her like a dog worrying prey.
September screamed. Her scalp caught fire, and blinding tears filled her eyes.
"Let her go!"
Oh God, Melinda had climbed out of the box. "Get out of here. Call your dad."
"What the hell?" Sunny pivoted, yanking September's hair while keeping the knife at her throat.
"I did, I already called Daddy. Let her go, the police are on the way." Melinda's gaze slid up and to the left. A lie. Maybe Sunny didn't see.
The keys. The keys, there on the floor, right next to Melinda, guarded by the cat.
"One word, one move, I slit her throat." Sunny growled the words.
Melinda's eyes grew big.
The cold blade pressed harder, hot pain laced September's skin.
"Jeff Combs's kid." It wasn't a question.
The knife cut deeper. Scalding warmth trickled from her neck. September struggled to stay still.
"Damn Doty. If that bitch detective hadn't sicced BeeBo on us, we'd be free and clear."
Detective Kimberlane Doty had sent BeeBo undercover, not Combs after all. September stifled a sob. He'd been killed by Sunny, someone he considered a friend.
September widened her eyes, and purposefully stared from Melinda to the cat on the floor, and back again. Boris Kitty fell on his side to bunny-kick the jingling set of keys. Back and forth, she stared, girl to cat, until Melinda followed her gaze. The girl tightened her lips and nodded understanding.
"Now!" September yelled.
Melinda dove for the keys, snagging them away from the cat. Reflexively, Boris Kitty grabbed Melinda's collar, and hugged the girl's neck as she awkwardly clambered back out of the loft onto the ladder.
In the same instant, September used both hands to drive the point of the break stick backwards, deep into Sunny's thigh.
Sunny shrieked. Her knife plunged into the churning water. The woman tumbled backwards, following her knife. One hand entwined in September's dark mane jerked September to the floor.
She acted like a human anchor, holding Sunny aloft as she dangled by September’s hair. Scalp screeching, September’s fingernails tore against chinks in the wooden floor. She slid ever closer to the edge.
Something hard pressed through September’s coat.
"You're coming with me, bitch." Sunny's face twisted with determination and hate.
September punched the knife’s broken blade through the coat’s hem, and slashed as she pitched over the side.
