Shaw started to open the door.
Just as a human form appeared in the woods, pushing through the brush.
Crouching, Jon Merritt hurried to the car once again. He stepped unceremoniously over Kristi’s body, reached into the passenger compartment, shut the engine off and pocketed the keys. He started to leave but noted something in the backseat. Opening the door, he took out a short black pump shotgun on a strap and a green and yellow box of shells.
He turned toward the forest to meet his triggermen, who would be easing carefully through the woods for the final attack.
—
Hannah exhaled slowly, her face a mask without expression.
She was no longer crying, though her mother was. “No, no,”Parker said breathlessly, wincing. She was leaning against the parlor doorjamb.
They would probably know by now the detergent box target was a trick—otherwise one of the occupants would’ve fired when Merritt came back to snatch the keys and scattergun.
“What now?” Hannah asked coolly.
It had come down to the twenty percent option.
Shaw pointed from one side window to the other. “Escape routes. Before they come, they’ll fire into the cabin. I’ll be watching. That’ll give me their positions. There’ll be a lull before they come in. They’ll be worried about cross fire, hitting each other. I’ll tell you which window’s best to go out of. Get into the brush and just keep going as fast as you can. Follow the shore. Circle around to the far side of the lake. It’s not that far to the highway, the one that leads to Millton. Flag down somebody.”
The girl nodded.
The twenty percent referred to the success of getting out of the cabin. Once they were in the bush their chances increased dramatically. The woodland was dense and the sun was nearly down; covering darkness was spreading.
But getting over the twenty percent hump was going to be tough. Would one or all of them be hit when the three men peppered the cabin? And if they did make it out, would they be picked off in the yard before they made it to the relative safety of the woods?
Parker said, “The lake... Swim?”
“Too cold and not with your leg.”
A scan of the grounds. Nothing out the front or the other side window.
Where were they?
The snake you can’t see is worse...
Hannah was studying the side yard, east, then west.
He saw her focused eyes, her stance.
This took him back to the Compound, when he was her age.
Sixteen. Stalking through woods similar to the ones surrounding them now, armed with the Colt Python, following two sets of tracks—his father’s, and those of the man who was hunting him.
Sixteen. Rappelling down a hundred-foot cliff to Ashton’s body.
Sixteen. Resolving to find and kill that killer himself.
Hannah’s voice was urgent. “Mr. Shaw, you made it sound like you’re not coming too. Aren’t you?”
“Not right away. I’m going to get one of their weapons.”
“I’ll help you.” The words were crisp and unwavering. She lifted a bolo.
“No. Your mother’ll need you.”
She paused. Finally she whispered, “All right.”