Stone Rain

Merker looked at me and pointed. “I don’t want you trying anything. I’m tired of getting fucked around. Letting your wife and the kid leave, letting that bitch run off with my money, that was wrong.”

 

 

“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t realize I was working for you.”

 

“You see? That’s the sort of thing I’m talking about. It’s your attitude. Leo, what are you doing?”

 

“I’m just trying to get my belt off, okay?” I glanced back, saw him slip it out of the last loop of his jeans. “How am I supposed to keep my pants from falling down, Gary?”

 

“I’ll buy you a new belt this afternoon,” Merker said. “I’ll buy you a hundred belts.”

 

The belt went over my head and down to my neck. Leo looped it around the two aluminum posts that supported the headrest.

 

“It’s kind of loose,” Leo said. “I got it on the last hole.”

 

That, thankfully, was true. While the belt prevented much mobility on my part, it didn’t keep me from breathing. As long as I didn’t lean forward suddenly, it wasn’t touching the front of my neck. I sat rigidly in the seat, pressing my head back against the cushioned headrest.

 

“All comfy?” Merker said. When I did not reply, he put the car into reverse and backed out of the drive. “Which way?” he asked me.

 

I pointed. Merker headed north. “Second stop sign, hang a right,” I said.

 

Merker put his foot to the floor, listened to the engine’s powerful surge. “Nice wheels. This is yours?”

 

“Trixie’s,” I said.

 

“No shit. Hey, Leo?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Like this car?”

 

“Yeah. It’s really nice. Nice upholstery.”

 

“We’re gonna keep this car. Make up for the fact that we got shortchanged on the safety-deposit box.”

 

“Okay,” Leo said without much enthusiasm.

 

“You don’t mind, right?” Merker asked me with mock consideration. “It’s not like it’s your car.”

 

“Be my guest,” I said, pushing my head back against the headrest.

 

Leo called to me. “Hey, mister, that burger? I think there was something bad about it.”

 

“You were warned,” I said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“It was written right on the box.”

 

Leo didn’t have anything to say about that.

 

“Here?” Merker asked. We had come to the stop sign. I nodded and he turned right. The car surged forward again.

 

“At the light, a left on Welk,” I said. “It’s up five or six blocks on the right. Burger Crisp.”

 

“Gotcha.”

 

“You going to let them keep twenty-five thousand dollars?” I asked.

 

Merker smiled. “Oh, I’m going to give them something. I’m definitely going to give them something.”

 

“Maybe when we get there I could use the washroom,” Leo said.

 

“You’ll be staying in the car, watching this asshole,” Merker said. “We can stop somewhere else, after.”

 

“Okay,” Leo said, but he sounded pretty uncertain.

 

And that was pretty much how I felt too. A few minutes earlier, I’d felt good that Sarah and Katie had managed to get away. But now, I was, literally and figuratively, feeling my neck. I was, once again, looking for an opportunity, a way out. It was something that I had shown myself, so far, to not be very good at.

 

My cell went off. This, I knew, would be Sarah. She’d have gotten Katie and herself someplace safe, and would want to know where I was.

 

“Give me that,” Merker said, and I reached into my pocket and handed him my still-ringing phone. Merker punched his power window button, tossed the phone out the window.

 

Merker pointed ahead and to the right. “That it?”

 

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s it.”

 

Merker pulled into the Burger Crisp lot. There were three other cars there, and, best as I could tell, business was light. It was midafternoon, the lunch crowd had thinned.

 

“Check it out,” Merker said.

 

Parked down around the side of the restaurant was his Ford pickup. “We gonna get the truck back?” Leo asked.

 

“Fuck the truck,” Merker said. “We’re keeping this.” He had his left hand on the door handle, the gun in his right. To Leo, he said, “Keep an eye on him. Hang on to the belt. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

 

Leo grabbed the belt and pulled it taut as Merker got out of the car, leaving it running, and strode toward the Burger Crisp, the gun down at his side and slightly to the back.

 

“I can’t breathe,” I said, the belt cutting into my neck.

 

“Okay,” said Leo, loosening it only slightly. “I just don’t want you doing anything dumb. Gary’ll be really mad at me.”

 

“Leo, listen to me,” I said. “This is your chance. Let me go, and just walk away. The police are going to be after you guys, but especially Gary. He’s the one killed Martin Benson, right? He’s the one cut his throat.”

 

“Gary’s better at those kinds of things.”

 

Gary Merker opened the door of Burger Crisp and disappeared inside.

 

Linwood Barclay's books