*
The pub was full. I scanned the crowd, searching the faces. Strangers stared back at me with curiosity. Lots of guys wearing baseball caps, but none of them were Brian or Gavin. Still, I was uneasy as I took a seat next to Dallas at the bar.
“Can I get you something?” Owen said.
“We’d like to order takeout,” I said.
He handed us menus, then poured us a couple of shots.
“Looks like you girls could use something a little stiffer,” he said when I looked at him.
“Thanks,” I said, but pushed mine away. Dallas drank them both.
He gave us a smile and walked back down to the cash register. We ordered burgers from the waitress, a younger one this time with messy blond hair, too much makeup, and a pierced nose.
Owen came back awhile later and leaned his hands on the bar in front of us. “You girls doing okay?”
“We’re hanging in there,” I said.
“Any news?” he asked.
I glanced at a man sitting at the end of the bar, staring up at the TV screen in the corner, and lowered my voice. “Nothing yet, but we made a police report.”
“Sergeant McPhail’s a good cop. He’ll find them.”
“Thanks.”
The waitress brought us a couple of Styrofoam containers. “Here you go, ladies.” She moved off, started putting away some glasses behind the bar.
“Get you anything else?” Owen said.
“We’re good, thank you,” I said.
We got up from our stools, put some money down for our meals.
“Don’t worry about it, ladies,” Owen said. “It’s on me.”
“Thanks,” I said.
*
We let the pub door fall closed behind us and stood on the sidewalk, the cement still radiating heat and the air warm though the sun was going down. A few vehicles were parked on the road in front of the pub.
Dallas stepped onto the road. I followed her, glancing both ways. We were in the middle of the road, headed across to the motel. Down the street a little was a pickup, parked on the side. I couldn’t see the sides, just the front grille and the hood. It looked like a black truck. Then I heard the engine gunning.
“Dallas,” I said in a warning tone.
She followed my gaze, and her step slowed. “Is that…?”
The truck gunned its engine louder. Then I saw the cigarette smoke blowing out the window. A hand came out next, pointed at us like a gun.
“Get moving,” Dallas said.
We hurried the last few steps, weaved around and between all the vehicles in the motel parking lot. We kept glancing back but didn’t see the truck. Finally we were at our door, Dallas fumbling for the key.
“Open the door!” I said, looking over my shoulder again. We pushed ourselves inside, slamming the door behind us, both breathing heavy.
I walked to the window, pulled back the curtain an inch. A car drove by, but there was no sign of the truck.
“Where the hell did he go?” I said. We waited in silence for a couple of minutes, still watching the road.
“He must’ve driven in the other direction,” Dallas said.
I heard a noise, a tapping sound, coming from behind us. We turned around.
“What was that?” Dallas said.
“The bathroom window?” I said, moving a little closer, but slowly.
Three loud noises now, like someone had slapped their hand on the window. I stopped walking, a scream building in my throat.
Dallas grabbed my arm. “Don’t move.” She went over to her bed and unzipped her suitcase. “I’m going to check it out.”
Now I saw what she was holding. A handgun.
“Holy shit. Where’d you get that?” I said.
“Doesn’t matter.” She walked toward the bathroom and slowly pushed the door open, gun pointed. “Stay away from us,” she yelled out.
We waited, listening.
I heard a truck. “You think that’s him?”
“Maybe.”
“We should let McPhail know,” I said. But when I called him, he didn’t answer the phone. I left a message asking him to call back as soon as possible.
Dallas sat on the other bed, the gun still gripped in her hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a gun?” I said.
“I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“I’m glad you brought it.” I was surprised she’d never mentioned that she owned a gun. I hadn’t touched a gun since we left Cash Creek the first time, but I kept a knife and mace in my night table and carried them with me at all times. I thought of the knife I’d given Skylar, wondered if she’d taken it with her.
We spent the next twenty minutes listening to every vehicle that pulled in and out, waiting for our back window to get smashed in. Both of us tense, smoking cigarettes, not talking much. Sergeant McPhail finally called at ten.
“Gavin Luxton threatened us,” I said. I told him what happened.
“Did you actually see him?”
“No, but I’m sure it was his truck.”
“We’ll take a few patrols by the motel tonight.”
“Did you go back out to the ranch?”