In Seconds

28

L.J. was no use to him. Ink had had his fun digging around for that bullet with his unwashed hands and experimental prodding. Now he was content to let L.J. die—if that was what happened. If L.J. didn’t die, he might try and hike out of the mountains, maybe get some medical help. More than likely he’d be hauled back to prison. L.J. didn’t have the smarts to navigate the outside world as an escapee. He didn’t have the nerve to do what an escapee had to do, either.

Ink, however, had everything he needed, including a better plan. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. Now that Laurel knew he was in town, she wouldn’t return home. He’d have to start looking for her all over again. But someone who was trusted in the community would be able to help him find her much faster than his former cellie. Especially now that L.J. had been shot. And who would look more harmless, more trustworthy, than a member of the Rogers family?

He’d seen their pretty daughter and the mildly attractive middle-aged mother. They were quite a family. And they were only half a mile away, in the very next cabin. There might be a father. Ink realized that but could handle him the same way he had the hunters.

The mother would work best for his purposes, he decided. Now that he had Laurel’s new name, he could send Mrs. Rogers into town to poke around. By keeping her daughter and anyone else at the cabin with him, she’d have the incentive to work fast and keep her mouth shut. Once she returned with the addresses of Vivian’s closest friends and any extended family that might live in the area, he’d kill her and the rest of the Rogers clan so they couldn’t report him. And then he’d be on his way—either to finish up his business with Virgil’s sister here in Pineview, or follow her out of town, if she’d already left. There wasn’t any point in staying if she wasn’t here.

He checked the gun he’d used earlier when he got in that shootout with the sheriff. It was good to go. He’d reloaded it at the cabin. Now all he had to do was hide the truck in the trees and wait until dark, which wouldn’t be long in coming.

The phone in the motel woke Vivian at five o’clock. She’d fallen asleep after making love with Myles, had slept for several hours, much more deeply than she had since this whole nightmare began. But reality intruded with the jangle of that phone, and the dread that’d overwhelmed her before came back.

“Do you want to get it?” She assumed it would be one of Myles’s deputies, looking for him. No one else in Pineview knew where they were.

His hand ran over her skin, but his eyes remained closed. “Mmm…no. Still groggy. Go ahead.”

She was glad to see he was getting the sleep he so desperately needed. But she was afraid neither of them would be able to rest much longer. She had to get hold of Peyton, continue to try Rex, somehow find out what was going on with her kids and her brother. And she had to field this call, which she hoped was good news and not bad.

“Hello?” She settled back into Myles’s embrace but held her breath.

“This is Sandra with EZ Security. Is Vivian there?”

Recognizing the name of the company and the voice of the caller, Vivian sat up. It was the receptionist she’d spoken to earlier at Virgil’s work. “This is Vivian.”

“I have a number for you to call.”

Vivian used the pad of paper by the phone and the motel pen to copy it down. “Where does it go?” She recognized the area code but not the rest of the digits.

“Mercy Medical Hospital in Los Angeles.”

She bit her lip. “Why do I need to call a hospital in Los Angeles?”

“Your brother’s been shot.”

Vivian must’ve made a sound or a movement to give away the pain that converged on her heart because Myles shoved himself into a sitting position, suddenly alert. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t explain. Not now. She had to find out whatever she could while this woman was willing to talk to her. “Is he…is he going to be okay?”

“The doctors are hopeful. He’s in surgery now.”

“Then…who am I calling if Virgil can’t talk?”

“Rex.”

“Why didn’t you just give him my number?”

“He can’t make a collect call to a motel.”

Rex was in L.A., too? Why? Where were her kids? “Do you know if Peyton’s safe?”

“She’s fine.”

Obviously this woman knew their entire background. Vivian was throwing around names Virgil, Rex and Peyton hadn’t used since they’d adopted their first false identity and moved to Washington, D.C.

“Rex said to tell you Peyton has Jake and Mia in a motel room with Brady here in Buffalo,” she went on. “Don’t worry about them.”

It was a relief to learn her children were fine and in good hands. But after what she’d just been told about Virgil, it was hard to feel much better. “Does Peyton know about Virgil?”

There was a slight hesitation. “No. That’s why she’s not making this call. Rex said not to tell her until…until we know whether or not Virgil’s going to make it.”

Laurel dropped her head in her hand. “How’d it happen?”

“I don’t have any of the details. I just know that Rex wants to speak to you. His phone was damaged when your brother was injured, so he called me from the hospital.”

She brought her knees up so she could wrap her free arm around them. “Rex wasn’t hurt?”

“No. But he would’ve been if his phone hadn’t been in his pocket.”

“Why’d he go to L.A.?”

“I think you should ask him that question. He just checked in with me to see if you’d called here. I told him I didn’t know if you were still at this number, but I’d give it a try.”

“I see. Thank you,” she said weakly, and hung up.

Myles sat with the sheet draped across his lower half. “What is it? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine.”

His face creased with concern as he took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Then what’s wrong?”

“It’s my brother.”

When the page came, Rex hurried to the information desk, where he identified himself and a nurse smiled politely while handing him a phone.

“Hello?” The cord kept him in one spot, but he turned so he could speak with a modicum of privacy.

“It’s me.”

Laurel. Tears threatened when he heard her voice, even though he hadn’t cried since he was a kid. She was alive; he’d made the right choice. “God, it’s great to hear from you.”

“I could say the same. You okay?”

“I’ve been better.” He was so sick, so strung out. He hadn’t been sure he could last as long as he needed to, and yet he’d made it—made it here, anyway. Each minute, each hour, proved to be a new challenge, but he felt good about all the minutes and hours he’d conquered so far. Now he clung to the hope that his presence and prayers might somehow make a difference to Virgil while the doctors operated. When he’d walked out of the emergency room in Buffalo all those hours ago, intending to buy whatever OxyContin he needed to get rid of the pain in his head and his joints and the terrible cramping in his stomach, he’d remembered the trip to Libby. Remembered driving the last part of the way holding Laurel’s hand and feeling so at peace. That was what had made him realize that if he went back on the pills he’d never escape them. He couldn’t relapse even once. Ever. For any reason. So instead of doping up, he’d paid his dealer to take him to the airport, and then he’d had to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life.

Did he go to Montana to try and protect Laurel?

Or did he go to L.A. to support Virgil?

Ultimately, he’d chosen L.A. He knew Virgil was walking straight into trouble; Laurel was at least trying to avoid it. And, as much as he claimed not to have any confidence in the small-town sheriff he’d entrusted with her care, he knew Myles King would do all he could to keep her safe—and was probably more capable than he wanted to admit.

She sniffled, evidence that she was wrestling with her own emotions. “How—how’s Virgil?”

An old woman approached with a question for the nurse and talked far too loudly. In an effort to block out the noise, Rex covered his free ear. “Took three bullets. Two in the back, one in the arm. He was already a mess by the time I could reach him. It’s a miracle he’s alive.” Question was, would he stay that way? Rex didn’t come out and say that, but he knew Laurel had to be thinking it.

“What was he doing in L.A.?” she asked. “How could he leave Peyton?”

He studied the flecked pattern on the floor. “He felt he had no choice. That he had to put a stop to The Crew once and for all, or none of us would ever be safe.”

“So he went to them?”

Wincing when her raised voice lanced through his aching head, he moved the phone to his other ear. “Yeah. To a club Horse owns.”

“And you followed him there?”

“Unfortunately, he was ahead of me.”

“Or you’d probably be under a doctor’s care, too. Or at the morgue.”

“Maybe. I was lucky. No one expected a latecomer. They were so busy trying to kill Virgil they didn’t even notice when I walked in.”

“And that’s how you got him out?”

“That’s how.” After shooting at least five men.

“What happened to Horse?”

“Dead.” He didn’t specify that it was Virgil who’d hit Horse. He wanted to save her from the more graphic details as much as possible.

“And the other Crew members who were there?”

Rex wasn’t sure if they were dead or he’d just wounded them. He’d gone in shooting, but there was no other alternative. It was the only way to save Virgil—and himself, since they would’ve turned on him next. Sick as he was, he still didn’t quite know how he’d managed to pull it off.

“Are the police involved yet?” she asked.

Rex tried not to notice the way the nurse kept staring at him. He was sweating again and having heart palpitations. But he was determined to tough it out on his own. He braced himself against the counter. “I don’t know. They might be there now. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I didn’t even wait for an ambulance. Some guy—a neighbor I roused—helped me load Virgil into my rental car and I took off.”

“They’ll get to you eventually,” she said. “But it was self-defense.”

“With as much as they’ve done—and tried to do—to us, I think that should be easy to prove.”

“Virgil would be dead if it wasn’t for you,” she said. “Thank you.” Another sniff indicated that Laurel was losing the battle with her emotions.

“I would’ve been dead long ago without the two of you,” he said quietly. As far as he was concerned, they’d saved one another.

“You have to get off the pills, Rex. Please.”

Wondering when his withdrawal symptoms would finally abate, he drew a steadying breath. “I’m off, I swear it.”

When she didn’t respond, he nearly sank to the floor. His legs simply didn’t want to hold him up anymore. “You don’t believe me.”

“Actually, I do.”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “That helps. I’m there this time, Laurel.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She covered the phone and spoke with someone else. Then she came back on the line. “Is there any way Ink might know that Horse is dead?”

“I doubt it. It happened too recently. And I don’t think it’ll stop him, even if he finds out.”

“Then why did Virgil do it?”

The anguish in that question seared Rex to the bone. But he knew the answer. He understood it completely. “To cut The Crew off at the head. That’s the only way to stop them for good.”

“But do you think it’ll work?”

He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead, felt the dampness of his sweat. “Only time will tell.” The nurse eyed him as if he’d been on the phone long enough, but he averted his gaze. “So there’s been no sign of Ink?”

“He came to the house last night.”

“And?” Rex felt himself tense.

“Got away.”

With a curse, he began to massage his temple. “Where was the sheriff?”

“Trying to stop him. He got shot in the process, but he’s fine. It could’ve been a lot worse.”

“I’m glad he’s okay.” Rex was pretty sure he meant that, despite how he felt about Laurel. “I gotta get off this phone. I’ll call you when Virgil comes out of surgery, okay?”

She gave him the sheriff’s cell number as well as the motel number and said goodbye. But when he handed the phone back to the nurse, he saw her lip curl as if she didn’t approve of him, as if she knew he was some low-life addict and, for a split second, the craving for OxyContin intensified.

But then he realized—it couldn’t get any worse than what he’d already been through. Regardless of what this woman thought, what anyone thought, he’d overcome that craving for nearly three weeks. And three weeks was longer than most people could fight it.

He was going to make it. He just had to believe he could.

With a smile that said he didn’t give a shit about her judgments, he walked away.

While Vivian took a shower, Myles called Janet Rogers. He’d spoken to her earlier. He’d gotten both her and Marley out of bed this morning to tell them what had happened and to warn Marley to stay away from home until Ink and Lloyd could be captured. But he was afraid his injury had scared his daughter and wanted to check in with her again.

“She’s doing great,” Janet said.

“I hope it’s not too much trouble to have her there.”

“Not at all. You know how much she and Elizabeth love each other. She’s been worried about you, of course, but we’ve talked about it, and she understands that you weren’t hit in a vital area.”

After losing her mother, Marley probably wasn’t taking the incident quite that well, but being with Elizabeth would distract her, and he appreciated Janet’s attempts to reassure him. It wasn’t as though he could collect his daughter and go home. With Ink and Lloyd on the loose, Vivian wasn’t out of danger and neither was the rest of the community. He still had a job to do. “I appreciate your willingness, but…are you sure? I can make arrangements for her to stay somewhere else…?.”

“Are you kidding? With Henry out of town and the boys at camp, I like having the girls here. They keep me company.”

Myles breathed a sigh of relief. That made things much easier for him, because he was eager to jump back into the search. “Thanks. I’m grateful for the help. Is there any chance I could speak with her?”

“You bet.”

A couple of minutes later, Marley’s voice came on the line. “Daddy?”

“Hi, honey. How are you?”

“Okay. But…what about you?”

He shifted to ease the throbbing in his leg. “I’m good as new.”

“Really? After being shot? You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“I’d tell you.”

She seemed to trust his response. “When will I see you, then?”

“I’ll come by after work tonight.”

“To get me?”

He stood just to test his ability to put pressure on his foot. He’d barely been able to remain upright in the shower, but it seemed to improve with use. “No, just to say hi. I need you to stay at least another night. I’m going to be very busy trying to catch these guys, and I don’t want you home alone.”

“You’ll get ’em. If anyone can, it’s you.”

Wishing he had her confidence, he eased himself back onto the bed. “I hope you’re right.”

“It’s scary, though, isn’t it?” she said. “To think that there are escaped convicts in town? I mean, we never went through anything this dangerous even when we lived in Phoenix.”

“I know. Hopefully, it’ll never happen again,” he said as he checked his bandages.

“Is Vivian okay?”

Vivian was better than okay. She was naked and in the shower, and the thought of that was distracting to him despite everything else. “She’s doing great. You like Vivian, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

He took off the gauze on his neck, balled it up and threw it in the trash can. He didn’t need it, and it was wet from the shower, anyway. “Good.”

She laughed. “Why’d you ask that?”

Because he wanted Vivian to be part of their lives. He didn’t know for sure if she’d become a permanent fixture. They weren’t that far along. But everything he felt so far suggested it was a strong possibility. “Just wondered.”

“That’s a weird question,” she said, and laughed again. “Why wouldn’t I like her? She’s our neighbor. Do you want her to come stay with us until you catch the guys who are trying to hurt her or something?”

“No, we live too close to where she does.”

“Where else can she go? Are you guys still at the motel?”

“For now. She’s…um…in the next room. But I think I’ll have Claire pick her up.”

“The lady who cuts my hair?”

“That’s her.”

“Oh, right. She and Vivian are best friends. She always has one of Vivian’s purses.”

“Vivian’s been generous with you on that score, too,” he pointed out.

“I know. I can’t wait to see her latest.”

He smiled at her enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure how quickly his daughter might accept Vivian as his love interest but they had a foundation on which to build. That reassured him. “I’d better get to work. I’ll see you later, huh?”

“Okay. I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you, too,” he said, and disconnected.

Steam rolled out of the bathroom as Vivian cracked open the door. “Everything okay with Marley?”

“Fine.”

“Did I hear you mention Claire?”

He pulled on the shirt he’d taken from his bag when he got out of the shower. He didn’t have his uniform with him, but he wasn’t going to worry about that. Today it was just jeans and a T-shirt—and his gun. “I was thinking you might want to spend the afternoon there, since I can’t stay with you. Might make it easier to wait for the news on your brother.”

She came out, wearing a towel. “I don’t know if anything will make that easier.”

“But I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. You can’t go home. And you can’t be seen in your car, not after Ink and Lloyd saw it parked in your driveway. What else are you going to do? I don’t want you walking around town if I can’t make it back in time to bring dinner.”

Fluffing her hair to help it dry, she stared at the phone. “I just want Rex to call.”

“It might be a while,” he said gently.

She sighed. “Then I’ll call the hospital with her number. I’d rather be with her than alone.”

His leg hurt with every step, but he made his way over to her and pulled her into his arms. “He’s going to make it, Vivian.”

She didn’t answer, but when she pressed her face into his neck, he could feel her tears.

“Give Claire a call. I’ll check in with you later,” he said, and kissed her on the forehead before he left.

It was even easier to get inside the house than Ink had expected. The doors were locked. He’d tried them, starting with the back. But locked doors were no problem when there was a key under the mat. He guessed that key was what the teenage daughter used when she came home late at night, or a present she’d left out for her boyfriend. He doubted the parents even realized it was there.

The door swung open without so much as a creak, and Ink smiled as he stepped across the threshold. Laurel must’ve been tipped off when he went to her house, but he’d get to her yet. And Virgil and Rex would be next. Not only would he have his revenge, he’d gain new stature with The Crew when he reported to Horse that he’d accomplished what no one else had been able to do.

A TV blared somewhere deeper in the house. He’d seen the flicker of the screen while watching from the back, so that didn’t surprise him. He probably should’ve waited until later, when everyone went to bed, but he’d been too impatient. He’d figured he’d have a better chance of getting in if he did it before the parents locked up for the night. He wanted people in town to be awake, too, so that Mrs. Rogers would have plenty of folks to ask about Laurel…?.

He hadn’t expected the house to be secured so early. Most people didn’t lock their doors at eight-thirty. But he would’ve gotten in whether the key was handy or not, would’ve broken in if necessary. It wasn’t as if they had neighbors he needed to worry about. And he’d already cut the phone line. What were they going to do?

“Knock, knock. Anyone home?” he called out cheerfully.

The daughter he’d seen with L.J. appeared first. She figured heavily into his plans, was precisely the person he hoped to use as a distraction from the impending wait. But he couldn’t give that away just yet.

“Hi, there. Is your father home?”

She dropped the remote when she saw the gun. But he hadn’t raised it yet, so she didn’t seem too sure about how to react. “Who are you?”

“I guess you could say a friend of a friend. Do you know Vivian Stewart? And Mia and Jake?”

She stepped back as if she’d realized who he was, and that was when he lifted the gun. “I wouldn’t move, if I were you.”

“Alexis—” The woman he’d seen in the window earlier rounded the corner and froze. She was drying a baking dish, but lowered her hands and the dish immediately.

“I think you need to call for your husband, or I’m going to shoot your daughter,” he told her.

She gaped at him.

“I gave you an order.”

One hand, the hand with the dish towel, went to her chest. “He…he—”

“He what?” Ink prompted. “You can do it. Spit it out.”

“He’s not home,” Alexis supplied.

What she said came as a surprise, and he thought it could be a lie. A man was part of this household. It was apparent from the way the garage was organized, the number of tools, the NASCAR and Dallas Cowboy cheerleader posters, the deer head mounted over the fireplace, even the smell, which reminded him of leather and playing cards. “I think he must be. My guess is that SUV out in the drive belongs to him. So…I’m giving you five seconds to get him out here.”

Mrs. Rogers whimpered. He still had his gun pointed at her daughter, and she didn’t like it. “No! Please! Listen, he—he’s out of town. He works out of town. That is his Esplanade, but I drove him to the airport.”

Could this be true? Ink hadn’t actually seen a man at the cabin either time he’d been here. And he doubted she’d risk her daughter’s life. “When will he be back?”

Alexis answered, as if she was afraid her mother might not be able to form the words quickly enough. “Not for two more days.”

“If you’re lying—”

“I’m not lying!” Her face was as chalk-white as Mrs. Rogers’s, but the ponytail that held her hair back revealed bright-red ears.

“Good. Looks like I’m getting lucky everywhere I turn. Where are the kids?”

Mrs. Rogers’s eyes widened. “What kids?”

To make his threat even clearer, he stepped closer to Alexis. “I could rape her in front of you, or take her to the back. Your choice.”

“Don’t hurt her!” Her voice had fallen to a whisper, but there was more pleading in that whisper than if she’d shouted.

“I’m talking about the kid or kids who use the soccer ball that’s in the yard and the other sports equipment in the garage.”

“The twins,” Alexis said. “They’re at camp.”

“Hmm. Lucky again. Why don’t we go into the living room and have a seat so I can explain what I need you to do for me.”

Mother and daughter turned just as a voice issued from the second floor. “Mo-om! Can me and Marley have another dish of ice cream?”

Ink almost pulled the trigger right then. He thought one death would be quite convincing. But he didn’t want Mrs. Rogers to get hysterical. He needed her to be able to think straight. “Trying to trick me? Huh? You’re going to pay for that,” he said instead of firing. “Now get them down here.”

The girl from upstairs called out again when she received no answer. “Mo-om!”

Mrs. Rogers closed her eyes and her lips moved as if in prayer.

“Now!” he yelled, giving her a shove, but she didn’t have to speak. The sound of his voice drew two young teens down the stairs to see what was going on. Once they saw him, they stood on the landing with their mouths agape.

“Guess you didn’t realize you had company.” Grabbing Alexis, he put the muzzle to her temple. “Now, let me make myself clear. Is there anyone else in the house?”

Alexis was shaking. He could feel it. She didn’t dare move, but one of the other girls spoke up. “N-no.” Judging by her features, she belonged to the family. She was the “me” part of “me and Marley.” The other girl, tall and dark and slender, did not belong to the family. That made her the “Marley” part.

“You won’t get away with this,” Marley said, big brown eyes shining with defiance.

He had to admire her nerve. “Me” was already crying.

“We’ll see.” He waved the gun.

They marched into the living room. That was where he told Mrs. Rogers exactly what she was going to do in the next hour—or return to find her family murdered. And that was when she insisted she didn’t have to go anywhere to be able to give him the information he demanded.

After using a slim, regional phone book, she wrote down the name and address of someone named Claire, who’d advertised her haircutting business in the Yellow Pages. Mrs. Rogers said she and “Vivian” were best friends, that Vivian would be there or Claire would know where to find her, and she was pretty convincing. Desperation did that to a person.

She might’ve given Laurel up, but she was stupid to think he’d leave them in peace. He’d knocked out their phone, but even if he took the keys to every vehicle they had, they could walk or ride a bike to a cabin or the highway for help. He had no doubt whatsoever that they’d figure out some way to go to the police the moment he left.

And that was why he had to kill them.