The Dirt on Ninth Grave - Darynda Jones Page 0,104
Mrs. Vandenberg. She’s cooking for them.”
“Is there a guard with the family?”
“No. There are three men. Two in the living room and one in the kitchen. The family is tied up, so they aren’t going anywhere.”
I nodded. “Look, I have inside information.” I told her what Angel said. “If we can distract them somehow once Mrs. Vandenberg is finished cooking, we can get them out. They aren’t guarding them.”
“How do you know that?”
“I saw it. Through my binoculars.”
“What binoculars?”
“The ones I dropped. And no longer have.”
“Well, thanks to you, the first thing we have to do is try to get you out of there so you don’t get everyone killed.”
Guilt ate through the lining of my stomach. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
“Can you see them now?”
I was just about to say no when Angel nodded. Of course, he could be my eyes.
“Yes. Yes, I can.”
“Do you think you can get out of there if we provide some kind of distraction?”
“No!” I whisper-yelled at her. “No, two distractions in one day? It isn’t like they’re not a tad suspicious already. They’re bad guys. They were born suspicious. I can see them.”
Angel gave me a thumbs-up, then disappeared.
“I’ll know when to run.”
“Janey, if you are wrong and they spot you —”
“I have this. Just get ready to move.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“You said your guys were ready. Are they or aren’t they?”
“They are, but this isn’t a game, Janey.”
“I have this. Once the Vandenbergs are all in that back bedroom, I’ll provide a distraction, and you and your men secure that room and get them out.”
“Janey, I refuse to authorize you to do any such thing.”
“I’m not asking permission. I’ll give you the okay sign when it’s time to move. Or I might get shot in the head. If either of those happens, move.”
“Janey, I am ordering —”
I hung up before she talked me out of doing something stupid. Truth was, I had the advantage over all of them with all of their equipment. I had a dead teenaged gangbanger with an attitude and, well, not a whole lot to lose.
Angel appeared beside me again. He lay down in the brush, ducking his head as though they could see him. “There’s one guard on the window at all times. I’ll have to do something to draw his attention away.”
“I have another idea. A really good one. I just need a sharp stick and a lot of blood.”
I was so nervous, I wanted to throw up. My stomach roiled as I lay on the ground, waiting on word from Angel.
Agent Carson called back a third time. I told her they were finally letting Mrs. V go back with her family, so it was almost time and she should get her team ready.
She had reluctantly agreed to let me distract the captors so her men could secure the room. I hadn’t given her much of a choice, but despite that, no agent alive would just let some stranger waltz into her sting operation and “be the distraction.” No way. Absolutely not. There had to be more to that story than met the trained eye.
“Janey,” she said, growing somber, “these are very, very bad men.”
“I know. They’re holding a whole family hostage.”
“The Vandenbergs never stood a chance of survival. These are not the kind of men that let their hostages go.”
That got the blood pumping. “Got it. They’re super bad.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Positive.”
“What exactly are you going to do?”
“I thought I’d play it by ear.” I hung up and glanced at Angel. “Here goes nothing.”
Angel had found me something better than a stick, but if I didn’t get killed in the crossfire that was sure to come, I would probably die of tetanus or a flesh-eating virus. This couldn’t be sanitary.
I took the piece of rusted metal he’d found a few feet away and started cutting cut along my scalp line. My first try wasn’t deep enough. I needed more blood. This had to look convincing.
“Maybe you should stab me with it,” I said to Angel.
“Fuck that. I ain’t stabbing you. I ain’t cutting you. This was your idea.”
I closed my eyes and tried again. This time I thought of Joseph and Jasmine and how scared they had to be. The metal sliced through several layers, and blood gushed down my face. I rubbed it into my scalp and shook my head to disperse it, then scraped the metal along my cheek, neck, and chest, making deep – and hopefully convincing – gashes.