As the three of them trooped out the front door, Iris sent Bayard an imploring look. Her face was dead white and she looked like she was on the verge of bursting into tears. She might be right about making that call to the sheriff’s office. He debated about going back to reopen the subject, but she’d already turned away.
He went out on the front porch and zipped up his sweatshirt jacket, which wasn’t nearly heavy enough to protect him from the mountain cold. Dark had descended at some point during the last hour and the temperature had dropped sharply. Troy’d had the presence of mind to bring a leather jacket. He pulled the truck keys from his right pocket and opened the door on the driver’s side. Bayard went around and got in on the passenger side.
Fritz said, “Where’m I supposed to sit?”
“In the truck bed, fuckhead,” Bayard said. He didn’t like any of this, but he wasn’t sure what to do about it. He thought Troy was in his camp, sensing that the situation was already out of control.
Once the three reached the road, Fritz clambered up into the truck bed while Bayard turned in his seat and slid back the glass in the rear window.
Bayard said, “You okay back there?”
“Yeah, but it’s cold as shit,” Fritz said. He crossed his arms tightly against his body and put his face close to the space created by the sliding glass window like some eager pup going on his first road trip.
Troy started the truck and made a slow, easy U-turn on the two-lane road. “Why don’t we just tell Austin we never saw her? How’s he going to know?”
“We can’t leave her alone out here,” Bayard said. “What if something happened to her?”
“Like what?”
“She could get hit by a car or picked up by some weirdo.”
“Better than dealing with Austin.”
“If we lie about it, Fritz will blab,” Bayard said. “Kid can’t keep his mouth shut.”
“Hey, I’m right here! I can keep my mouth shut.”
Troy said, “There she is.”
They’d only driven half a mile when the headlights picked her up on the side of the road, where she trudged doggedly. She was still wearing her bikini, but she’d buttoned a man’s flannel shirt over it. Instead of flip-flops, she’d shoved her feet into size twelve men’s dress shoes, which looked incongruous. She’d lifted all the items from the closet in the master bedroom. As the truck approached, she glanced back and stepped off the road.
Troy pulled up close to her and looked across Bayard in the passenger seat. “We got worried about you,” he said.
“Bullshit. Austin sent you as soon as he figured out I was gone.”
“True,” Troy replied.
She began to walk again, not looking at them. Troy idled along at her pace.
“I’m not going back,” she said.
Bayard rested his right arm on the open window. Wind roughed his thatch of dark hair, which lent him a childish air of innocence. “Come on, Sloan, just do it. Come back and talk to him. He’ll never give you any peace until you kowtow to him.”
“You ought to know,” she said. She held up one finger, indicating that she understood why Bayard was doing Austin’s bidding.
Fritz said, “What’s that mean?” He held an index finger up as Sloan had.
“It’s no concern of yours.”
Sloan had stopped in her tracks. Troy brought the truck to a halt. The road was quiet except for the truck engine huffing. Exhaust fumes mingled with the scent of bay leaves. Bayard was hoping she’d decided to return to the cabin with them.
He said, “Get in the truck. Please. You can’t walk back to town dressed like that. It’s ten miles in the dark and it’s dangerous. Make your peace with Austin and we’ll give you a ride home.”
She turned and faced him directly. “No deal. I’ve had it with him. He’s a fuckin’ bully and he wants me to knuckle under, which I won’t.”
“Why infuriate the guy? You know he doesn’t react well to stuff like this,” he said.
“Who cares? He thinks he can push me around? I’m not going to do it.”
Fritz swung himself down from the truck bed, using his left hand in a surprisingly graceful move. “Maybe this will help,” he said. He had the gun in his right hand, which trembled with the unfamiliar weight.
“Oh, for god’s sake,” Sloan said. “Don’t point that thing at me.”
“Yeah, Fritz. Cut it out,” Bayard said. He opened the passenger-side door and stepped out on the gravel berm.
Fritz backed up a step, gesturing with the gun. “Get in, Sloan. I’m serious. Austin told us to bring you back and that’s what we’re doing.” He turned the gun on Bayard. “Get in the back. I’m riding up front with her.”
“This is a nice development. You’re acting just like him,” she said.
“That’s exactly right. You think I’m a dope? Now I’m a dope with a gun, so maybe you could show me some respect,” he said. “Get in!”
Sloan exchanged a look with Bayard, but she did as she was told.
Bayard hauled himself up into the truck bed.
With the gun still trained on Sloan, Fritz got into the passenger seat so she was wedged between him and Troy at the wheel. “Make a U-turn and let’s go.”
Troy shook his head in disbelief. “I think I can manage to drive without help. Is it all right with you if I back up and do a K-turn instead?”
“Do it any way you like,” Fritz said.
Troy put his right arm on the seatback and turned so he could see through the rear window. He made the turn, shifted from reverse into first, and headed back the way they’d come.
The four of them rode in silence. Bayard sat in the truck bed with his legs stretched out in front of him and his back against the cab while he kept his eyes on the road. Fritz was right, it was cold in the truck bed with the wind whipping in from all sides. Fortunately, they didn’t have far to go. When they reached the cabin, rather than parking at the road, Troy turned left into the rugged driveway and trundled up to the parking pad just outside the cabin.
Austin had apparently heard the rumble of the truck and he appeared on the porch, zipping himself into a puffy black parka. Iris appeared in the open doorway behind him. She’d hauled a comforter off one of the guest beds and wrapped it around her like a cape.
Austin came down the porch steps and crossed to the driver’s-side door. “What have we got here?” he asked when he saw the players in their new configuration.
Troy said, “Your boy Fritz is now calling the shots, so to speak.”
Austin seemed amused. “Will wonders never cease?”
Troy said, “So now where?”
Austin hoisted himself into the truck bed and settled beside Bayard. He leaned toward the sliding panel in the rear window, directing his instructions to Troy. “I told you, Yellowweed. Go back to the 154 and take a left.”