The police car’s interior light illuminated the pool of blood around Deputy Shaffer’s head—and the startled look in his open eyes. A fly landed on his cheek, grazed around for a moment, then flew away. Shaffer didn’t move.
She heard Allen and Moira behind her, climbing out of the car. Susan jumped at the sound of the car door slamming. She glanced over toward the cabin. The lights were off, but she could see the two young men on the front stoop. One of them was half sitting, slumped against the door. He had his arm around his friend’s prone body. With their faces in the shadows, Susan couldn’t tell which boy was sitting and which was lying there, but neither one of them was moving. It appeared as if the one boy had tried to pull his friend’s body into the house before he’d given up and died. Or was he breathing? Susan couldn’t tell. It looked like he had a gun in his hand. She stood there frozen.
“What the fuck happened here?” she heard Allen mutter.
She knew he’d just spotted the deputy’s body. Susan swiveled around to face him.
Dumbfounded, Allen gazed down at Shaffer’s corpse. He still had Moira by the hair and the ax blade against her throat.
Susan shook her head at him. “You don’t have to do this now, Allen, not anymore. He’s dead. He has no power over you. You no longer have to do what he says. You can just turn around and drive away….”
Moira started to struggle, but it was in vain. His grip on her didn’t slacken.
“I can’t have any witnesses,” he muttered. “And there’s a matter of payback for what those two pricks did to me this afternoon. One of them is still alive.”
“No—no, they’re both dead.” Susan pointed to the two bodies by the front door. She started backing up toward the cabin. “They’re both dead. No one holds anything over you now. You can just drive away, Allen. Please, let her be….”
At the news that her friends were dead, Moira let out an anguished cry. “Oh, God, no…” She tried to wrench free from Allen. The ax blade nicked the side of her neck, but she didn’t seem to notice. She sobbed hysterically.
Allen took in the scene by the front door. Then he smiled a little and turned to Susan. “I can’t have any witnesses,” he said loudly—over Moira’s weeping. “None at all…”
Susan kept shaking her head over and over. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the boys by the front stoop again.
The one with the gun in his hand was moving.
Cradling his friend in his arms, he leaned against the front door and watched Meeker’s fiancée. Her back to him, Susan Blanchette kept stepping into his line of vision, blocking his view of Meeker and Moira. But he could hear Meeker’s voice, so close.
Jordan had the deputy’s gun in his hand.
He glanced at his leg—and at all the blood around the tear in his jeans, where the bone stuck out below his knee.
It had happened after the deputy shot at him—twice. One bullet had grazed his shoulder; the second had hit him in the gut. He fell down the stairs and broke through the banister. Jordan remained on the living room floor, keeping perfectly still—despite the horrible pain. He didn’t even move when Meeker kicked him in his side. The bastard probably fractured a couple of his ribs. He knew he’d wrecked the hell out of his leg during that fall, too. Jordan had no idea just how bad it was. He couldn’t look at it, not while they were standing right next to him.
He didn’t move a muscle. Fortunately, they didn’t stay there long. The deputy heard someone outside. “I have a feeling that’s your intended, Allen,” Shaffer said.
Jordan had waited until after they left and he had heard the cop car peeling out of the driveway. Then he crawled into the kitchen, grabbed a dish towel, and clutched it to his stomach. With a Kiss the Cook apron, he made a tourniquet for his leg. He stared at that bone jutting out and cringed. He tried to tell himself he’d seen worse in one of his lacrosse games, but he really couldn’t remember anything quite this gory.
He hobbled out the back door, around the cabin, and past the driveway, bracing himself against the side of the house or trees, anything he could grab to keep from keeling over. If he could reach the road,