Spare Change (Wyattsville #1)(86)

Standing there was a man half again the size of Sam Cobb; his face had a look of meanness too impossible to imagine. Olivia knew without asking—the man was Scooter Cobb. She instantly tried to bang shut the door, but such a thing was like trying to un-mix cake batter—what was done, was done, and there was no undoing it.

“Where’s the kid?” he growled.

Fear grabbed hold of Olivia and without thinking she fell back a step. Almost immediately she realized the move was a grave mistake, for now the baseball bat positioned alongside the door was beyond her reach. Scooter took advantage of the opportunity and pushed his way inside the apartment. He slammed the door behind him with such force it sent the hall table and potted plant flying.

Ethan Allen bolted upright when he heard the noise. An apprehensive growl was rumbling in Dog’s throat but the boy whispered, “Shhhh…” and held a finger to his mouth. He then waited, listening to make certain he’d heard what he thought he heard.

“Where’s the kid?” Scooter shouted a second time; his voice booming so thunderously it rolled through to the living room and rattled the pictures on the wall.

“He’s not here,” Olivia answered, reaching for every ounce of courage she possessed. “He’s gone; gone someplace safe.”

Ethan Allen glanced over at the window. He could easily enough raise the sash, step out onto the fire escape and disappear down the metal stairs. Scooter would never be any the wiser. Then what? With Scooter being the sort of man to take his frustration out on somebody, that somebody would be Grandma Olivia. Ethan’s thoughts flashed back to the image of Benjamin being beaten and tossed about like a broken doll; that night he’d done nothing, he’d just let it happen, but this time would be different. With his heart thundering like a kettle drum, he climbed from the bed and reached for the Browning. As quietly as possible, he cracked it open and checked the two buckshot shells in the side by side chambers. He closed the gun and released the safety.

“Well now, Scooter said to Olivia, “you’re just gonna have to tell me where that place is, aren’t you?” The sound of his voice was heavy and threatening.

“No,” she answered, the word trembling through her throat. “The child is gone and that’s all there is to it.”

Ethan Allen was more frightened than he’d thought humanly possible. He felt like his stomach could slide out his back end at any minute. Even so, he raised the Browning into position and wedged the butt of the shotgun tight against his shoulder. With his hands trembling and a line of perspiration sliding down his back, he took a step forward. If he had the Winchester he could count on felling Scooter Cobb with a single shot—that was a rifle meant for killing; but all the Browning gave off was a spray of buckshot, scattered about in every which direction. With the Browning, he’d be lucky to kill a squirrel, but a man of that size, never. Yet if he didn’t do something…

“Lady, you are so wrong,” Scooter shouted angrily, “that’s not all there is to it! You’re gonna tell me where that kid is, or you’re gonna get the shit kicked outta you!” He moved a step closer.

Olivia was hoping, no, praying, that Ethan Allen would not try something foolish; that he’d have the good sense to slip out the window and go for help. He had to have heard Scooter’s voice by now, surely that would drive him away. She prayed the boy would run, run fast enough to escape the ugliness that was coming. If she could hold Scooter Cobb back for a few minutes he’d have time enough to get away, time enough to find a place and hide. “Just go away,” she finally said to Scooter, “leave the boy alone, he’s already had enough misery.”

“You and him is both gonna learn something about real misery, if you don’t quick tell me where he’s gone!”

“He ran off this morning, I have no idea where he is,” Olivia answered. “Now, leave here or I’m calling the police!”

Ethan pushed the bedroom door open and silently inched his way along the back side of the foyer wall. Maybe he’d be lucky; maybe the Browning would stun Scooter enough that he and Olivia could get away. Hopefully, the spray of buckshot wouldn’t hit her; hopefully the old shotgun wouldn’t explode in his face.

Scooter gave a loud laugh, not the chuckling sort you’d expect to hear when a thing is funny, but a laugh that was mean as mean can be. “You’re gonna call the police on me!” he shouted uproariously and then charged toward Olivia. He slapped a huge hand down on her shoulder before she had time to make a move. In one fleeting second—a second you would believe too short to have any thought, let alone one so profound—she suddenly knew why Ethan Allen was so deathly afraid of this man. With his right hand still clamped to her shoulder, Scooter balled his left into a fist and drew back. Olivia was too petrified to do anything; she tried to pull loose but he had a firm grip. Nothing would stop him now, it was too late, nothing could… Like a lightning flash, Dog came flying through the air, snarling, yapping, aiming himself at the attacker. Scooter didn’t let go of Olivia’s shoulder, but his grip loosened the slightest bit as he turned toward the sound. She stumbled backward, the heel of her shoe caught onto a bit of carpet and then over she went, the weight of her body jerking her loose from Scooter’s grasp. Just as she slammed into the floor, Ethan Allen stepped from behind the wall and fired. For a moment Scooter Cobb stood there looking bewildered, then he toppled over.