Busted Flush Page 0,101

door close behind him.

Once inside, he took time to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. There was a single doorway leading into the house proper. He spotted a refrigerator directly on the right. Excited as he was, Drake waited a long time before opening the fridge door.

A rush of cold air from inside the refrigerator ran over Drake, but he hardly noticed. He grabbed a carton of milk and set it on the floor. This was the closest thing to happy he'd been in a long time. He closed the door and took a gulp of milk.

The beam from the flashlight caught him flush in the eyes. "Hold it right there, Mr. Thief." If the shotgun hadn't told Drake the man meant business, his voice sure enough did.

Drake raised his arms over his head. "Don't shoot, mister. I was just hungry." His heart was thumping in his chest.

The man turned on the kitchen light. He was old and had more hair in his bushy beard than on his head. He set the flashlight down on the kitchen counter. "Well, son, you can get food at a restaurant or a supermarket. My house isn't either one." He kept the gun leveled at Drake.

"I didn't mean anything. Just let me go and you'll never see me again." Drake pointed at the food he'd left on the floor. "Want me to put it away for you?"

The old man shook his head. "You go sit over there." He nodded toward the breakfast table.

Drake did as he was told.

"I'll get the county sheriff out here. He'll give you something to eat. And plenty more besides." The old man moved to the doorway Drake had come in through and picked up the phone from a handset mounted on the wall.

"Please." Drake started to feel . . . wrong. He tried to control his fear, push it deep down into his gut. It was going to happen again and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Put down the phone, or I'll blow your head off." Drake recognized Niobe's voice. His panic went away. "Get down on your knees and set the gun down behind you," she said.

Drake saw that Niobe had only a piece of pipe in her hand, pressed against the back of the old man's head. If the man turned around it was game over. But he didn't. He knelt and set the shotgun down.

"Find something to blindfold and tie him up with," Niobe said, then mouthed "no names." Drake understood.

Minutes later the man was bound and his eyes covered with a bandana.

"I'm cooperating," the old guy said shakily. "No need to do anything stupid."

Chapter 14

They carried him into the next room, out of easy earshot.

It was a bedroom. Niobe took care not to brush the man with her tail, and to keep it hidden behind her back in case he could peek under the bandana, while she and Drake half lifted, half pushed him onto the bed. Mostly they pushed; Drake was too short and too weak, and her bad ankle wouldn't let her take most of the weight.

Drake panted quite a bit from the exertion. The kid needed to eat some vegetables.

The exertion worsened the throbbing in her ankle. She whispered in Drake's ear. "Check the bathroom. Try to find some painkillers. Aspirin, ibuprofen, whatever," she said. "But leave any prescription bottles alone."

He went. Niobe stayed behind, keeping an eye on their prisoner. Thanks to Drake the Feds would have a new lead on their location as soon as this man freed himself.

They needed help. She considered propositioning the man. It would obliterate their attempts at anonymity, but with luck her children could more than make up for that.

And then she realized she was thinking like Pendergast. Children as tools, means to an end. Never. Never.

Then again, Drake didn't have a chance if she didn't have another clutch soon.

She argued with herself, hating herself from both sides, until she noticed the computer on the desk in the corner. A beige box and a small monitor, with little brown smudges on the mouse and keyboard from years of use.

"Do you have an Internet connection here?"

The man on the bed was silent for several moments. He realized she was talking to him. "What?"

"Does your computer have Internet?"

"Now why the hell would I want that?"

Niobe slumped against the wall. For a moment, the briefest of moments, it had felt like they actually had hope. With an Internet connection, she could have sent a