Long Lost - James Scott Bell Page 0,93

against the leather leash.

Which snapped.

Snarling death charged his way like a bullet train.

There would be no way out. In the three seconds it took for Ezekiel to span the distance, Steve could only get to his knees and think momentum. He could buy a few precious seconds using the madness of the dog, the crazy instinctive charge.

When Ezekiel pushed off into the air, a canine missile, teeth bared, saliva slapping the sides of his mouth, Steve swung his right arm. At the same time he fell right. His fist landed on the dog’s jaw, deflecting him.

Ezekiel thudded on the ground behind him. It would take him two seconds to regroup.

Steve twisted around, anticipating the jaws of death.

If only he had the knife..

The dog charged.

Steve put his hands out.

Ezekiel leaped.

Steve rolled left, hearing something crack, rolled over twice, and came up ready again for a strike.

Which didn’t come.

Steve heard a wail of pain from the dog, and Steve saw the wet red stain on the side of the animal. Ezekiel lay on his side, moving his legs but going nowhere.

He yelped and yelped.

Steve was aware of someone behind him. Bethany, holding a rifle, walking toward him.

“That time I hit what I was aiming at,” she said.

Ezekiel cried out in pain and confusion.

Bethany walked up to the dog. “He’s suffering,” she said, then put the barrel to the dog’s head and fired.

“Hated to do that,” Bethany said.

Steve didn’t know weapons, but the one she held looked like a state-of-the-art hunter’s piece. He considered the two dead bodies and felt sorry for the dog. Ezekiel was just doing what dogs do, especially when they’ve been trained to kill. He was a victim of circumstances. He had no will of his own.

Then Steve considered Rennie and found himself wondering what lethal mix had been poured into the guy as a kid to produce such human waste.

Steve heard a strong buzz and thought it sounded like a bee. The mother of all bees looking for human flesh. A mutant, nuclear bee with a stinger the size of a nail.

Another buzz. Close. And then he knew it was a phone. Rennie’s cell phone.

Somebody trying to get in touch with the dead man.

The phone was in Rennie’s front pants pocket. Steve waited until the buzzing stopped, then flipped the cell open. Saw a number for a missed call. Also saw a low-battery warning. He punched 4-1-1.

“What are you doing?” Bethany asked.

“Got to move fast,” he said. He followed the prompts and asked for Verner, for the district attorney’s office, and accepted a straight connection. Got the office’s voice directory that gave him several options. He took 0 for reception.

A woman answered.

“I need to speak to Mal Meyer,” Steve said.

“Just a moment . . . Mr. Meyer isn’t in, would you like his voice mail?”

“No. This is an emergency. For Mr. Meyer and for me. My name’s Conroy and I’m defense counsel on one of his cases. I need to speak to him now.”

“I believe he’s in court.”

“Does he have a pager?”

“Yes, but—”

“Listen carefully please. The case we’re on is Cullen. You need to tell him that Cullen is dead. He’s been shot. And his defense counsel needs to speak to Mal right away.”

“Oh my.”

“Did this cell number come through on your screen?”

“Yes.”

“Can you page him immediately and give him that message? Have him call me?”

“I can try right now. If you hold, I can put him on with you.”

“I’ll hold. I don’t have much battery left, so if you can hurry.”

“Please hold.”

He looked at Bethany, admiring her strength. What must it have taken for her to get out of that situation? What would become of her now, even if they managed to survive this ordeal?

“We need to hide these bodies,” Bethany said.

“That would be a good idea,” Steve said.

“I’ll do it.”

And she did. As Steve waited on Mal Meyer, she went about her work as if she were cleaning up a yard. She dragged Rennie’s body to where the floor of the lean-to had been. Then did the same with the dog. Then started reconstructing the lean-to.

The woman came on the line. “Mr. Conway?”

“Conroy.”

“I’m going to connect you.”

A click, then, “This is Meyer.”

“Steve Conroy.”

“I got that. What’s this about Cullen?”

“Listen, I don’t know how much time I have on this thing. I’ll explain everything to you, but you have to come get me. I’m on Verner Pass Highway, I don’t know how far, but it’s got to be close to the LaSalle place. I just killed one