Kyle sneered. If he’d cared what his mama thought, he wouldn’t have gotten in with Dietrich. He cast a glance at Ted, then back up at Ben. “Lawrence thought Parsons there might go soft on us, so we’ve been watching him for the past couple of days. You think you’ve won, but just you wait. Lawrence and Jeremy are taking care of those women.” He laughed again, choked hard, and then he stopped breathing.
Ben surged to his feet, hell burning in his eyes. He hit the door at a run, cursing every second it would take him to get to his truck.
Sela.
Sela paced in Carol’s living room. This had been the longest afternoon of her life. She hated waiting, and she hated worrying even more.
Ben was in harm’s way, and the knowledge filled her with cold dread. He could handle himself better than anyone she knew or had ever known, and still she worried about him. She always would. That was what loving someone meant, and she had chosen to love someone who wouldn’t hesitate when the hard things had to be done. Had anyone ever worried about him before today? He gave the impression that no worry was necessary. He was tough as nails, capable of handling any crisis, he needed nothing and no one.
But everyone needed someone to worry about them. She was Ben’s someone, would always be his someone.
If all went well, this would be over quickly. If all didn’t go well, she was prepared—not to lose Ben, but to protect her family as best she could. Nerve-ridden, she’d brought her .22 rifle with her, not wanting to be helpless. She wasn’t walking around with it in her hand but it was close by. She didn’t think she’d need it, prayed she wouldn’t need it, but she’d brought it in case she did.
Meredith, Carol, and Barb were in Carol’s bedroom, Carol propped up in bed, Meredith and Barb in the dining chairs they’d dragged in there so they could sit beside her. They were drinking wine out of tiny paper cups, sipping, savoring, being careful not to consume too much. Carol insisted they had to be clearheaded, in case things went south . . . like those three would be so much help if there was trouble. Carol had just that morning used the crutches to get herself to the portable potty by herself, but the effort had been very awkward and painful.
Now and then Sela heard them laughing. Well, why not? They were drinking wine, tiny cups notwithstanding. They were talking about how things had changed and what other changes could be coming their way. Barb had been giving Meredith tips about cooking in the fireplace, a skill everyone was developing and expanding on.
There were two members of the community patrol stationed to stand guard outside the house. Harley was at the front, Darren had been posted at the back door. Ben was experienced enough in combat to know things never went the way they’d been planned, and you never knew which way a rat would run. In the way of losers, Lawrence likely blamed Sela for what had happened at the store, therefore in his mind she was the enemy. However the confrontation at the craft store went, Lawrence would blame Sela, and if he somehow escaped . . .
Olivia sat on the couch. Right after Ben and the others had left, Olivia had walked around with Carol’s .22 in her hands, looking almost comically determined. Like Sela, she had eventually relaxed and set the weapon aside, in a corner near the stairway. What did it say about their world now that Olivia was just fifteen, but this wasn’t her first rodeo. She’d already proven that she could handle herself in a crisis.
All was quiet. Maybe nothing had happened yet. Maybe everything had gone so smoothly not a single shot had been fired. If and when they heard gunfire, from the direction of the meeting place or from any other direction, those rifles would be in their hands, and ready.
Sela checked the clock, paced in front of the dying fire, sat by Olivia for maybe half a minute before popping back up to continue her nervous pacing.
Nothing would happen. Ben would take care of the men who were planning to create their own criminal enterprise, and that would be that.
Nothing would happen. Ben would knock on the front door any minute now, and tell her it had been a piece of cake.
Nothing would happen. The universe would not be so cruel as to take away Ben when she’d just found him.
Sela took a deep breath, calming herself, then went to the fireplace to add some wood and poke at the embers to make them flare.
In the distance, she heard gunfire, a lot of gunfire. Olivia jumped off the couch at the noise, and headed toward the stairs to retrieve her .22. Sela whirled toward her own rifle, across the room. Before either of them could reach their weapons the front door was kicked in and Lawrence Dietrich stepped into the room.
Beyond him, through the open door, Sela saw Harley’s still body. There was blood on the porch, on Dietrich’s sleeve and boots, as well as down the front of his heavy jacket.
“Ladies,” Dietrich said. He was smiling as he pointed his rifle at Sela.
Sela’s blood froze, but somehow she kept functioning. She motioned for Olivia to go to Carol’s bedroom, and after a moment’s hesitation the girl obeyed, walking backward, taking small steps until she was inside the room. Carol shouted out, “What’s going on out there?” Olivia whispered an urgent answer, and Carol went silent.
Sela didn’t look at the .22 that was closest to her but she knew exactly where it was, and exactly how far away. It wasn’t close enough, not nearly close enough. Even if she could reach it, she wouldn’t have a chance in a close gunfight with Lawrence and his hunting rifle, which he was already aiming at her. Bullets went through walls. If he started shooting, the women in Carol’s bedroom would be in the line of fire. There had to be another way. She didn’t see it, but there had to be, if she could just keep calm and stay alive.
Lawrence kept the barrel pointed at Sela as he went to the back door and opened it, letting his brother Jeremy inside. While the door was open, she caught a glimpse of a still shoe. Darren was down, too. Dead or injured she couldn’t know, not from that one shoe. At least Jeremy wasn’t covered in blood.
At his brother’s direction, Jeremy collected both .22s and placed them even farther away from Sela, propping them near the front door, while Lawrence edged around so that his back was to Carol’s bedroom. Through the open door Sela caught sight of Meredith easing forward furtively. Good Lord, was that a vase in her hand? Meredith had guts, but—a vase? Sela caught Meredith’s eye and shook her head slightly, warning her to stay back. This could go sideways fast, with one wrong move.
“I guess you heard those gunshots,” Lawrence said. “I wonder what it means? Who survived? Your guys or mine? If it was mine, which I ’spect it was because I thought something like that might happen and we were ready, then your ass is in a sling. Oh, wait. Your ass is in a sling anyway because I’ve got this”—he lifted the rifle a little—“and you don’t. Boo-hoo. Too bad for you I didn’t trust Parsons. Wish I could have, I’ve always been a fan of doing things the easy way, but this time . . . this time it was a mistake.”
He swung his rifle to the side and, for a moment, pointed it toward the front door before again taking aim at Sela. “I hope that son of a bitch Jernigan comes running to the rescue, any minute now.”
Sela lifted a stilling hand, as if she could ward off a bullet. “Why?” she asked. Talk. Get him to talk, keep him talking. She needed to buy some time.