Nova spun fast, raising his pistol, but immediately paused when he saw the man standing there.
He was an older man, sixties or seventies, black with a weathered face and gray hair and beard. He wore a stained undershirt, his gut hanging out over a baggy pair of jeans. In his hands was a rifle, and it was the rifle that made Nova pause. Not because it was currently aimed toward the floor, but because it was so old.
Not quite an antique, it looked like a Browning that hadn’t been used in over fifty years. Had it been anything modern, some kind of assault rifle, Nova would have placed a bullet between the old man’s eyes and asked questions later. Because Connolly’s men, from what Nova had seen, only had the newest artillery. But this rifle? This looked like the kind of rifle the old man’s father had once used to go hunting.
Nova lowered the gun to his side. He whispered, “Mind turning off the light?”
The old man said nothing. He stared at Nova with dark eyes. He kept the rifle aimed toward the floor.
“We apologize for trespassing, but we’re not here to hurt you. We’re not here to steal anything from you. We just need to use your phone.”
The old man’s eyes shifted from Nova to Jessica, then back to Nova. Still he said nothing.
“Some men are trying to hurt us. We just need to call for help. That’s all. You let me make the call, then we’ll be on our way and out of your hair. But first, please turn off the light. We don’t want to alert these men that we’re here.”
The man stood motionless for a long time, his gaze steady on Nova. Then, keeping the rifle aimed toward the floor with his right hand, he lifted his left hand and flicked the switch on the wall. The kitchen light when off.
“Thank you,” Nova whispered.
The man said nothing. Nova’s night vision had momentarily been displaced because of the light, but he saw what he thought was the man making a slight nod.
Nova turned back to the phone. It had disconnected and was beeping. He fingered the button to restart it and again heard the dial tone. He glanced once more at the old man who kept motionless and quiet, the rifle aimed toward the floor, then dialed. The phone rang once, twice, three times. Then there was a click and a woman’s voice.
“Thank you for calling Scout Dry Cleaners. Our normal business hours are Monday through Friday, seven a.m to seven p.m., and on Saturday eight a.m. to three p.m. We are closed Sundays.”
Nova stared at the dial pad. Had he remembered the number wrong? Had he punched it in wrong? Had Atticus given him the wrong—
Wait. Scout Dry Cleaners. Atticus. Was that the hint, a To Kill a Mockingbird reference?
A lengthy number of seconds passed in silence, and then a beep sounded.
Nova hesitated a moment, then said, “This is Nova. I stumbled across an operation cooking meth in an abandoned mine in Parrot Spur, Nevada. They’re after me and a civilian.” He paused. “The men are ex-military. They’re the real deal. We don’t have much time.”
He replaced the phone in its cradle. Turned toward Jessica who was watching him with big eyes. Then he turned back to the old man.
“Thank you.”
Now that his eyes had adjusted again to the dark, Nova watched the old man nod slightly.
“We’ll be going now. I cut your screen door. I’ll pay for the damages later, if that’s okay with you.”
The man nodded again.
Nova motioned Jessica toward the door. She started across the kitchen, Nova behind her. Abruptly she stopped. Nova almost walked into her, looked past her through the screen door at the backyard. He saw exactly what she saw. The moon was only a sliver, but it was just enough to see two shadowy figures crossing the yard, assault rifles at the ready, taking up position.
Nova took Jessica’s arm and pulled her back. He looked around the house. Probably two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room, maybe a TV room. The door off to the right led into the garage. Nowhere safe to take cover.
He watched the two figures out in the backyard make their approach. He remembered making his approach only minutes ago, staring through the screen door at the darkness beyond. He had imagined one of Connolly’s men inside, an Uzi aimed for center mass. He hadn’t been certain the kitchen was empty until he was right up on the patio. Which meant the two men in the backyard couldn’t see him, at least not yet, which gave Nova an advantage.
Pocketing the gun, he slipped the rifle off his shoulder and moved to a better position. The space between him and the screen door was maybe ten feet. He crouched and aimed, hoping for the men to suddenly turn around and walk away. Maybe they were just searching all the yards. Maybe this was a coincidence. But Nova knew that wasn’t the case. The old man had turned on the kitchen light. Connolly’s men were probably stationed all around town, watching for something strange to happen. The light coming on may not have immediately signaled that it was their quarry, but still it was enough to bring the men here. And if two men were in the backyard, it was safe to assume there were more men out front. Boxing them in. Decreasing their chances of survival with every second that ticked off the clock in the next room.
Nova thumbed off the safety. He fingered the trigger, watching the closest shadowy figure. He waited a beat, then squeezed the trigger, shifted the rifle a quarter inch, and squeezed the trigger again. Both men dropped to the ground. Neither one moved.
He surveyed the rest of the backyard. No movement. He stood back up and turned toward Jessica and the old man. Even in the dark he saw the shock on the old man’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Nova said.
That was when the front door burst open.