“Just need some air,” he says.
“Come on.” Bending, I slip his arm over my shoulder, help him to his feet, and we stumble through the door. “Ambulance is on the way,” I tell him.
Tomasetti goes to his hands and knees, gulping air.
“Hang on.” Rising, I go back to the Explorer, pull a thermal blanket from the trunk. When I get back, Tomasetti is sitting beside the two boys. He’s conscious and aware, but his eyes are glazed. He’s looking down at the boys. Samuel is crying. Next to him, Ike is moaning, beginning to stir.
I kneel next to the children, reposition my coat so that both of them are covered. “You’re going to be okay,” I say.
Ike reaches for me, clings to my leg. “I’m scared.”
“Honey, can you tell me who did this to you?”
Sobbing, the boy presses his face against me. “He was going to come back and get us out.”
“Who?”
He hesitates.
“Was it Mose?” I ask. “Did he do this to you?”
Mouth open and trembling, he nods. “Don’t tell him I told.”
“I won’t. You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.” I glance toward the barn door. “Honey, can you tell me where the Rabers are?”
“They took the buggy to town,” Ike tells me.
“What about Salome and Mose?”
“I dunno. They ran.”
I nod, relieved that no one else has been hurt. I hate to leave him like this, but I disconnect him from my leg. “I’ve got to go, honey.”
“Don’t leave us!” he cries, trying to hang on.
I squeeze his small shoulder. “Everything’s going to be okay. Stay here with Agent Tomasetti, and I’ll be back. I promise.”
Inching closer to Tomasetti, Ike buries his face against his shoulder. I catch a glimpse of Tomasetti’s face, and I know this moment is something I’m going to have to think about later. For now, I need to find Mose before he hurts someone else.
“You did good,” I say to Tomasetti.
“Go get that fuckin’ Mose,” he grinds out. Then I’m up and sprinting toward the house. Rain patters my face and shoulders as I run. I can’t stop thinking about how close those boys came to death. How in the name of God could anyone be cold-blooded enough to kill their younger siblings?
I’m midway to the house when I remember the truck and suitcases in the shed. Knowing Mose and Salome are going to make a run for it, I change direction, head toward it. Rain stings my face and streams into my eyes. The thought that I should pull my weapon flashes, but I resist the idea. Then I remind myself Mose tried to murder his two younger brothers. He may have killed his parents. Cursing, I pull out the .38, crank back the hammer.
I’m angling toward the shed when I realize someone has closed the overhead door, and I know Mose is inside. Salome probably is, too. They could have seen Tomasetti and me in the barn, gone out the back and circled around.…
The truck engine rumbles to life. I pick up speed, decide to approach through the small door on the side, as opposed to the overhead door in front. Before I can swing left, the big door explodes. Wood splinters and flies at me. Through sheets of rain, I see the grille of the old truck. The slash of a single headlight blinds me. The engine screaming like a beast. The vehicle is nearly on top of me. I catch a glimpse of Mose behind the wheel. Salome in the passenger seat. They’re ten feet away and closing fast.
I raise my weapon. “Stop!”
The vehicle is moving at a high rate of speed. Rear tires fishtailing, it comes at me. I dive left. The ground rushes up and slams into me. Breathless, I roll, trying to get out of the way. Glancing up, I see the red smear of taillights, wheels slinging gravel and mud. He’s heading toward the road.
“Son of a bitch!”
Gripping my pistol, I scramble to my feet, sprint toward the Explorer parked in the barn. My boots pound through puddles and mud, but I don’t slow down. Vaguely, I wonder where the hell my backup is.
I’m aware of Tomasetti getting to his feet, shouting at me as I blow past. Inside the barn, I yank open the driver’s door, slide behind the wheel, hit the ignition. The wheels spin and grab. I hear the hose snap, then I’m bumping down the lane. I see the red blur of the truck’s taillights ahead. Mose is driving erratically, veering toward the bar ditch, then back onto the gravel. It’s a dangerous game; he’s an inexperienced driver, scared and out of control. But I find myself worrying more about Salome and her unborn child.