“The wall.”
Merritt knew what Shaw meant and he complied, feet spread, palms flat against the ugly green wallpaper. Despite the lifted-shirt routine Shaw frisked him carefully, with his left hand, keeping the Glock muzzle near his neck. Shaw relieved him of a phone.
“PIN?” Shaw asked.
Merritt gave him the numbers. “But it’s not working, hasn’t been for a half hour.”
Unlocking the unit, he saw that the screen didn’t sayno service. It was simply blank, though the unit was powered on.
“The radio.” He pointed outside to Kristi’s sedan.
“It’s not a sheriff’s cruiser,” Merritt said. “It’s her private car.”
Shaw said, “We drive out.” He looked at Merritt. “With you restrained.”
The man shook his head. “We wouldn’t get fifty feet. They’re up the ridge, those two, waiting for you. They’ve got long guns. With scopes. The Buick’s a half mile up the road. After dark, I’m thinking we’ll start the Chrysler.” A nod toward Donahue’s car. “Gun the engine. That’ll distract them. Then hike north through the woods to the Buick. Get to Millton.”
A look outside. Yes, if they were on the ridge—and it was a logical place to be—they could pepper the car with hunting rounds. Merritt’s plan was not a bad one.
Parker asked, “How long till dark?”
Shaw glanced to the sky, a rich blue, bleeding to gray. “Forty, fifty minutes.”
He then said, “Sit,” and Merritt did.
He looked over to his ex-wife sitting on the floor. “A.P., how is it, your leg?” Using what must have been a pet name from the old days.
She didn’t answer. She seemed capable only of staring at the man.
Shaw answered for her. “It’s not a bleeder. I’ve done what I can, but I want her in a hospital soon.”
“In the backpack,” Merritt said. “Pills. Painkillers. I took ’em off a tweaker about two miles from here. He told me you’d been hit.”
The shot he’d heard. Was it Bee he’d had the run-in with? And was the young man no longer of this earth?
Shaw unzipped the backpack and pulled out a plastic bag, large, though it contained only one small bag of white pills.
“Oxy,” Merritt said. “The real thing. Stolen from inventory. It’s safe. No fent or anything else mixed in.”
Parker said, “Not now. If I need it.” Maybe thinking of her husband’s addiction.
“No, A.P. You’ll have to be able to move. And move fast. Take one. Hannah? There water here?”
The girl’s cool façade had dissolved, and uncertain she glanced at Shaw, who nodded. She stepped into the kitchen, ran a glass and brought it to her mother, who took the pill that Shaw offered.
He looked at the larger bag, dusted with meth residue.
Noticing his eyes, Merritt said, “The kid had some deliveries of ice in there too. I dumped it.” He shrugged. “Once a cop...” He examined Shaw. “I saw you on your cycle, at Alli’s rental. I decided you weren’t blue, but that pat down, maybe I was wrong. You’ve done this before. You ever law?”
Shaw didn’t answer. He nodded to the backpack. He asked, “Other weapon?”
“Sort of.” The men’s eyes met and Merritt seemed almost amused at his own ambiguous response. “It’s wrapped up in a towel.”
Shaw dug through the bag. He found a bottle of Bulleit bourbon, what looked like an antique metal desk clock, food, papers, clothing and, at the bottom, something heavy wrapped up in terry cloth. He opened it. For a moment he didn’t move.
No...
He was holding the scorched metal frame of his Colt Python, the grip burned away. The last Shaw had seen of the weapon it was in the fire pit at the lodge on Timberwolf Lake. Merritt said, “Had to be yours.”