It’s still dark, but it must be nearly eight, and I hear the sounds of the town waking. I smell the smoke of wood fires and hear someone shouting, “Hey, wait up!” to some resident walking to work.
Benjamin’s running into town. Holy shit, he’s running into town. With my gun. While people are sleepily wandering about, heading to work.
I kick it into top gear, gritting my teeth against the old pain in my leg.
I have a clear bead on him. I can make the shot. I have no doubt of that. I can shoot and pray I don’t kill him, but if I do, that’s the chance I have to take. I’m sorry, Nicole. I’m sorry, Storm. I have an armed and desperate man running into a town full of people, and I must weigh the odds. Coldly and calculatedly run those odds, knowing I’m damned to a lifetime of nightmares either way.
I take out my gun. Aim low. I can do that. Take him down but keep him alive just long enough to tell us where to find his captives.
It’s no guarantee. I know that. But it’s a chance I must take and—
Benjamin veers. I don’t expect that, and I skid as I change direction. He’s running for the lumber shed.
Why the hell is he running for the lumber shed?
He’s changed his mind. Lost his nerve. Realized he’s as likely to get caught as to take a hostage.
He throws open the lumber shed door and races inside.
I stop. I stand there, gun in hand, watching that half-open door.
Come on in, Detective. So I can blow your brains out the moment you step through.
I look around. There’s no one in sight—we’re too far from the bakery, which is where most people up this early are heading, grabbing breakfast and coffee.
I glance over my shoulder and spot Mathias. He’s on the edge of town, hunkered down. Then he darts for the icehouse, on the other side of the lumber shed.
Mathias is covering me, so I have to take Benjamin’s bait. Maybe it’s the damned drugs. Maybe it’s just adrenaline pulsing through my veins, saying, You have him. He’s right in there.
I circle out of the line of the doorway and approach the lumber shed. I smell the new wood, both from the construction and the fresh-hewn contents. I also swear I smell smoke from the fire that gutted the building four months ago. A reminder to be careful.
I creep toward the door. Then I stop and listen. I can hear Benjamin moving inside.
I count to three and run through, slamming open the half-closed door as hard as I can and racing past and then dropping and rolling behind a pile of logs. I quickly shift to a crouch, gun poised.
“I’m not going to come looking for you,” I say. “I can stay right here, guarding the exit, until Eric returns.”
“Then why come in at all?”
Because he’s armed, and this building isn’t constructed like the icehouse. Benjamin can easily find a crack or knothole and open fire into the town. I don’t say that; I’m not giving him any ideas.
“You’ve trapped yourself,” I say.
“Huh. You’re right. Well, that was stupid of me.”
“You lured me in here. So what do you want, Benjamin?”
“To talk to you. You’re a good conversationalist.”
“Not really, but I am a good negotiator. Better than Eric, who doesn’t negotiate. Like you said, I’m sleeping with the guy in charge, and if he pisses me off, he loses access to what might be the most precious commodity in this town. So I’m here to negotiate the terms of your surrender.”
“Dalton will kill me. We both know he will.”
Actually, I know he won’t. I can’t say the same for the council.
“I don’t know what will happen to you,” I say. “But neither Eric nor the council will let you walk away. I might.”
He goes quiet. Then he laughs and says, “Like hell,” but I detect a note of hope in it.
“Here’s the deal,” I say. “You give me back my gun. I lead you into the forest. You take me to Nicole, and I’ll let you go, with your promise never to come back to Rockton. Oh, and I want Storm, too.”
“Storm … What sto—You mean that mutt of yours? You really were looking for it?” A short laugh. “I thought that was a trick to make me think you had a reason to be out. I don’t have your damned dog, Detective.”
That gives me pause but only for a moment. Storm really must have slipped out in the chaos.
“Nicole, then,” I say. “That’s all that matters to me. Nicole. Slide over my gun—”
Something chitters across the wood. I take out my flashlight, put my fingers over the lens and turn it on, giving off just enough diffuse light to see.
There’s my gun. Five feet away. Between me and the door.
He’s luring me into the open. He must have found a second gun somewhere.
I eye my weapon. I look around and spot a pile of sticks drying for tinder. I take one and crawl over, staying behind the logs. I snag my gun and tug it toward me. The lumber shed stays silent until I have it and then Benjamin says, “Happy?”
It’s a trick. It must be.
I turn the gun over in my hands. It’s clearly mine. Unloaded, naturally. I stick it in my holster.
He must have a second gun. He thinks I’ll come out now, confident that my scheme is working, and then he’ll shoot me.
“If we’re doing this, we need to go before sunrise,” he says.