Never Cry Mercy (25 page)

"Why Molly?" I said. My throat burned at the words that would lead to an explanation I didn't want to hear. I had to buy more time, though. The moment wasn't right yet.

"We went there to kill your father. Plain and simple. When it became clear he wasn't there, I made the decision to take your sister and hold her until the good Colonel exchanged himself for her. In fact, I would have preferred that. Then I could have taken him out to the gulf and tortured the bastard."

I looked down at the floor between my legs.

"That make you uncomfortable, Noble?"

I shook my head. "There were times I wanted to do the same to him."

Darrow laughed. "Even at this point, you've got minutes left, and you're cracking jokes. So much like that asshole father of yours." He took a few steps to the side, turned back and pointed at Vernon. "And if it weren't for the good Sheriff here, Molly might still be alive."

I looked up at Vernon. His face went slack. His mouth dropped open as though he were going to say something. Instead, he turned away.

"You son of a bitch." I straightened up. "Both of you. I'm going to inflict all the pain I've felt for twenty-eight years on you. If you plan on killing me, do it now, otherwise you'll never get the chance."

Darrow nodded. "Oh, your time is coming. First we've got to take care of your girlfriend here. I want you to see this, Jack. I want to hear you beg for mercy for her. It's not going to happen yet. I'm gonna keep both of you around, just to give you a taste of what business is like for me. See, I have a big deal coming up. Gonna supply a group of people that aren't so friendly toward this great country. I bet you'd like to be a part of that, wouldn't you? I know Reese would. See, it turns out, these are the people she's been hiding from all this time."

Reese closed her eyes. Her face tightened. She was trying to keep from crying. I wouldn't have thought less of her if she had let it out. Most people would.

"I'll do that now," I said. "Let her go, and you can do whatever you want to me."

Darrow shuffled to the door, leaned in and said something to Vernon. The sheriff slipped out of sight. Patrol, I presumed. Had to make sure no one had followed me over. Dammit. I wanted both men in the room. The time was almost upon us.

And then, as Darrow shouldered a rifle and made his way back to the middle of the room, Reese attempted to screw everything up.

Chapter 65

Darrow jumped back, startled at first. The old soldier's instincts took over and he readied himself to defend. Reese screamed as she whipped both arms to the front. An empty zip tie loop dangling from her right wrist. She leapt forward. An awkward move with the chair attached to her legs. It held her back, threw her off balance. Perhaps she thought it would break under the sudden movement. The chair looked as though it had been in the cabin for the past hundred years.

In the moment it took for Darrow to react, Reese had regained her balance and spun toward him. He swung the rifle in front of him, catching Reese in the chin. Fortunately, he hadn't had a chance to draw the weapon back. The strike was more like a half-bunt, half-swing. Reese raked her nails across his face from his forehead to his lips, leaving behind red marks that filled in with blood. The man pawed at his eyes, grunting in pain.

Reese's attack left her unbalanced, and she hit the ground hard, twisted at the waist. She rolled right and went for Darrow's legs. Her outstretched arms wrapped around each, and she attempted to crocodile roll the guy.

He attempted to draw aim on her, but could barely manage to open his eyes. So he flipped the rifle and drove the butt stock down.

I scrambled to my feet after accelerating the timer in my head to zero. There was no more waiting. I lunged toward Darrow. Vernon ran up the stairs with his weapon aimed forward.

Thunder rang out. I gritted my teeth against phantom pain. Splintered wood rained down throughout the room. Vernon stopped to reload, buying me a few precious seconds.

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the sap. The dumb sons of bitches hadn't bothered to search me. They saw I had two pistols and must've figured that was it. Big mistake.

I whipped the sap around, aiming for Darrow's head. He ducked and somehow managed to position his body so I ran into him. My legs were already weakened. I lost my balance and tumbled to the floor. When I stopped sliding, I glanced up, greeted by the barrel of Vernon's rifle.

"Everyone chill the hell out," Vernon said, positioning himself so he was out of reach. He aimed the rifle at me. "So help me, Reese, I'll blow his goddamn brains out right here."

She stopped thrashing, but refused to relinquish her grip on Darrow's legs. Our gazes met, perhaps for the last time. She pursed her lips tight, shook her head. I nodded, closed my eyes, dropped my forehead to the wooden plank. She'd blown our chance.

Hell, I'd blown it.

The timer in my head reset back to its original countdown. Time was almost up.

Three.

Two.

One.

Nothing.

I'd stopped the truck just outside range of being spotted by anyone at the house. There, I took the shirt off the man in the passenger seat, wiped some oil on it, then stuffed it in the gas tank deep enough to hit fuel, and lit it. It should have exploded by now.

"I'm just going to put an end to this now, Noble," Darrow said. "Consider yourself lucky that you're not going to face the torture I had planned for your—"

BOOM.

Chapter 66

Crystal River, Florida, 1988

The man with the limp who'd shot Molly appeared. He pushed the gun away from Jack, and dragged the other guy toward the woods. "We gotta get outta here, man. The cops are close. The other guys are cleaning up."

"Guess your fate's changed," the guy said before slipping into the cover of darkness.

By the time Jack found the pistol, the men were gone. He crawled through the high, damp grass toward his sister's body. "Molly," he said. "Please say something."

Her dark eyes stared up at him, the moon glinting off them. She said nothing. There was no way she could.

He cradled her head in his lap, feeling the warm flow from the hole in her head trickle over his fingers and onto his legs. Tears streamed down his face. He could have saved her. The man was in his sights. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

Sean appeared a few moments later, followed by the sound of sirens. His frame blocked out the faded moonlight.

"Christ, what happened, Jack?" he dropped to his knees and grabbed Molly, pulling her toward him, shaking her. "Molly, come on, sweetie. Say something. Tell me I'm a crappy brother. Anything."

"She's gone," Jack said.

"Shut up." Sean drew one arm back like he was going to punch his brother. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Jack readied himself to be struck, but his brother backed down. He eased Molly to the ground. "No, no you can't be dead. Molly, come on, wake up."

Jack said nothing as he watched his older brother break down. As much as it hurt, he imagined the pain would be a hundred times worse when his parents learned of their only daughter's death.

Minutes passed as the brothers stood watch over their sister's body. Jack aimed the pistol at the darkness, swearing that if one of them showed their face, he'd shoot first.

Beams of light cut through the darkness. "Hello? Police. Anybody back here?"

Neither boy spoke. They stared down at their sister as the lights brightened the area.

"Is anyone back there?" an officer called out.

"Here," Sean said.

Jack glanced down at his brother, who gestured at the pistol. Jack tossed it into the grass and held his arms out as the light washed over him.

"OK, just stay put," an officer said. "You on the ground, stand up."

"I'm not leaving my sister," Sean said.

"I said stand up."

"Y'all can drag me to jail," Sean shouted. "I'm not leaving my sister."

There were at least three of them, all apparently ready for a gunfight with a twelve- and fourteen-year-old.

"Our sister was shot," Jack said. "She's...she's dead."

"Jesus Christ," one of the officers said. He stepped forward, and Jack recognized him as John Wiley, a friend of their father. "Oh, Christ. Jack, Sean, you boys all right? Are you hurt?"

Both shrugged. Their injuries were nothing to worry about at that moment.

The other officers eased up. They convinced the brothers to leave watch of their sister's body. They walked off into the darkness, allowing her soul time to leave.

Chapter 67

The cabin rocked on its foundation. Probably slid off it. The windows exploded inward. Fragments of glass and shrapnel from the truck sliced through the air. Something gouged my back. Reese screamed in pain.

Darrow fell backward, clinging to the rifle. A cloud of smoke enveloped him. I swept the area for Vernon, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Reese," I called out. "Are you OK?"

Seconds passed. I pushed up off the floor, ignoring the pain that ransacked my body. Smoke continued to blanket the room. Heat pushed down on me. I looked up and saw the ceiling ablaze. The weathered wooden structure would go up in a matter of seconds.

Reese lay motionless on the floor. I rose into the smoke, slid my feet across the ground, doing my damnedest to keep them from lifting up and letting glass underneath. Didn't matter how I proceeded. The shards found their way into the soles of my feet.

"Come on, sweetie," I said. "Show me you're OK."

She didn't.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Darrow sat up. He held his head in one hand. Blood seeped through his fingers. I followed his gaze to the floor. The rifle was halfway between us.

Without hesitation, I dove for it. Dozens of tiny glass fragments sliced through me, embedding themselves. I landed a couple feet from the weapon and had to crawl forward.

Darrow jumped after I had, yet managed to land a bit closer. He had a hand on the rifle.

"Not today." I pushed off the floor and dove forward. The side wall blazed orange. Smoke rushed out through the doorway. The structure creaked and groaned. It would collapse at any moment.
 

Darrow turned the rifle sideways. He had one hand under the barrel, and was bringing his other to the trigger. I lurched forward, grabbed the barrel, and twisted it around toward me. Not my best idea. All he had to do was squeeze the trigger and I was done for. I rolled to the right and aimed the weapon to the left. If it went off now the slug would come close to Reese.

"Don't move, Reese," I called out.

The blast deafened me. The discharge left me momentarily blinded. The barrel scorched my hand.

A second later the first part of the structure came down. A beam that ran the length of the cabin landed on Darrow's legs. The roof caved in, sending flaming joists and pieces of roof down. I lurched forward, twisted and yanked the rifle from his grasp.

He reached back in an attempt to free himself from the flaming wood. The flame wrapped around his hands and shot up his shirt.

"Help me!"

"I'll help you all right." I put the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger.

Another section of the roof came down, this time close to Reese. She didn't budge. Had Darrow's shot hit her? Was she choking on the smoke? I scooped her up and carried her out of the cabin. Moments later, the structure came down in a fiery crash. A wave of heat blew past, knocking me to a knee. The flames rose high, and lit up an acre or two of the surrounding area. I swept the landscape. Didn't spot Vernon or anyone else. Maybe the coward had run. Only thing I saw was the burned out truck and a late model F-250.
 

"Reese?" I cradled her in my arms. Her face was close to mine. I placed my cheek on her mouth, leaving a gap under her nostrils. I felt hot, erratic breath. She showed no other signs of life. I was torn between performing a more thorough evaluation to make sure she was OK, and getting us away from the burning remains of the cabin. I stopped next to the F-250 and went over her as quickly as I could. There were no apparent major injuries, so I placed her in the cab, then climbed into the driver's seat. I reached for the ignition. The keys weren't there. Son of a bitch, they must've been on one of the men. No chance I was finding them now.

Before giving up hope, I checked the glove box. Nothing. Then the console. Nothing. Headlights appeared in the rear-view.

"Come on, not now."

My first thought was to get the pistols that I'd dropped by the other truck. The chances of them surviving the blast and remaining in working condition were minimal. Glancing over to the fire surrounding the other truck, I realized even getting to where they were on the ground would be impossible.

I climbed down from the cab. There were at least two sets of headlights on the way out. Vernon must have called in some reinforcements. The bastard was in hiding, waiting for them. I had a feeling he'd emerge once we were detained. Finish the job.

I ran my hands under the driver's front wheel well. Then the passenger's side. At the rear I found what I was looking for. A small magnetic box held a spare key. I jammed it in the ignition, closed my eyes, took a deep breath. The engine cranked, failed to turn over. I tried again. Same result. Not good. Two vehicles incoming. At least two men to a car. No way was I taking on four people in my current condition. We'd have to run. And we wouldn't get far. Out of desperation, I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal and turned the key. It cranked. I held the key in the same position, pumped the gas. The engine roared. I drove past the blaze, away from the incoming convoy, into the darkness without any idea what lay ahead or if there was a way off the property. All I knew was I had to get somewhere I could try and revive Reese.

And then find Vernon.

For the first few miles I kept the headlights off. The truck bounced over hills and through ditches. We made it across a stream and through a patch of thick mud. We did this all at under twenty-five miles an hour. The moon illuminated the ground enough that I could make out most obstacles before it was too late. The ones I didn't see weren't anything the truck couldn't handle.