Here and Gone(85)

He went to climb out of the cruiser, but a shot cut the air above his head. He dropped down low, using the door as a shield, and another round shattered the driver’s window. Glass fragments showered down over his head and shoulders.

Whiteside counted off, one, two, three, picturing in his mind where Tandy stood in the doorway, the distance between them. Then up, pistol aimed through the broken window, front and rear sights aligned, and squeezed the trigger three times.

The third shot caught Tandy’s right shoulder and the old man fell back into the house. Whiteside heard the thump and clatter of his body hitting the floor, followed by the rifle. Then a string of curses.

Whiteside stood upright and stepped around the car door, his Glock raised and aimed toward the cabin’s dim interior. Inside, the curses had faded to low groans. Whiteside took slow, careful steps toward the cabin, veering to the left, out of sight of the doorway.

He saw a movement low to the floor inside and by reflex ducked to the side. The muzzle flash illuminated the interior for a fraction of a second, Tandy’s wide eyes and bared teeth visible in the gloom. The shot went wild, the bullet shredding pine branches at the other side of the clearing.

Whiteside made a crouching run for the porch, moving out of sight of the doorway. He reached the cabin, flattened himself against the wall, beside the window, and listened.

‘Goddamn you, son of a … son of …’

He edged up to the window, peered inside long enough to see Tandy use his left arm to swing the rifle around to the glass. Whiteside dropped low as the window exploded outward. He crawled forward, toward the doorway, his knees complaining at the pressure.

When he neared the edge of the doorframe, he reached around, aimed blind into the cabin and fired low to the floor three times. Silence for a few moments, only the echoes of the shots rumbling through the trees, then he heard an agonized howl. Keeping down, he crawled forward, glanced inside.

Tandy lay flat on his back, the rifle lying loose at his side. One bullet had entered through the sole of his left shoe, the second was buried in his groin, the third in his upper thigh. Yet still he breathed, a high desperate whine.

Whiteside hauled himself upright, keeping his eyes and his aim on Tandy. He stepped inside, approached the old man, and kicked the rifle away from his reach.

‘Where are they?’ Whiteside asked as he walked around to Tandy’s right side.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ Tandy said, his voice a weak crackle.

Whiteside placed a boot on the old man’s wounded shoulder, put his weight on it. Tandy screamed.

‘Where are they?’

Tandy laughed and wheezed. ‘You still here?’ he said. ‘I thought I told you to go fuck yourself.’

Whiteside looked around the cabin’s dim interior. One open door leading to a bedroom, no sign of anyone in there. Nothing in here to hide behind.

Then he noticed the handle set into the floor.

‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘I think I found them.’

Whiteside held the Glock’s muzzle an inch from Tandy’s forehead. He didn’t give the old man time to curse him again.





54


AUDRA RAN AS hard as her exhausted body would allow, her feet slamming into the dirt and pine needles, the cover of the treeline abandoned. Danny ran a few paces behind, his breath as sharp and even as hers was ragged. Off to the east she could make out an open expanse, the dry bed of a lake spirited away by the drought. Wherever the gunfire came from, she knew it had to be at the end of this trail.

How many shots had there been? She couldn’t tell. They had come in clusters, two distinct sounds, one a hard snap, the other a boom that rolled through the trees. The last shot she’d heard had a terrible finality about it, like settled business.

The trail seemed to climb forever, and Audra’s lungs felt as if they would burst from her chest. Her thighs weakened as they screamed for oxygen, and her stride faltered. She stumbled, her arms cartwheeling as her momentum carried her forward, but Danny’s hand grabbed her upper arm, kept her upright, kept her moving.

‘There,’ he said, the word snatched between breaths.

He pointed to a smaller trail that branched off, a clearing with a cabin and cars visible through the trees. Audra allowed him to guide her that way, and somehow, from somewhere, she found a reserve of energy that propelled her forward.

As they reached the clearing, Audra started to call her children’s names, her mouth open wide, but Danny silenced her with his palm across her lips. He took her arm, forced her to stop.

He pointed to his eyes, then his ears. Look. Listen.

They both moved to the treeline, keeping low and watchful. Whiteside’s cruiser stood facing the front of the cabin, its trunk open. A dog lay in blood and glass fragments by the driver’s door. Lazy smoke curled from the remains of a fire in a barrel to the side of the property. The cabin’s front door stood ajar, one of the windows shattered.

Danny went ahead, crouching as he advanced, keeping the cruiser between him and the cabin. Audra followed, keeping low. She reached for the pistol she had stowed in her waistband. Danny paused by the open driver’s door, peered through the space where the window had been. Glass crunched under Audra’s feet as she joined him.

‘Look,’ he whispered. ‘In the doorway.’

Audra peered into the gloom and saw a man’s feet, and she knew it was the body of whoever lived here. Then she heard a low grunt from inside, followed by muttered curses. She looked at Danny, and he nodded, yes, he heard it too. He pointed to the right end of the building, the one with the window intact, then gestured to the ground, telling her to stay low.