Page 88

88

Matt

MATT WANTED ADDIE TO scream again, because that would mean she was okay, but instead, she’d gone quiet. Not so much as a squeaky floorboard came from upstairs. Matt did feel a light breeze, though, and that meant the shattering glass he’d heard had been another window, like the one downstairs. Unlike the broken window downstairs, he doubted they’d tossed a firebomb through—he didn’t smell smoke. That meant either a rock or someone got in. As he crept up the steps, Matt tried to visualize the outside of Ellie’s house, wondering if it was possible to get up to the second floor without a ladder.

His palms were sweating by the time he reached the second-floor landing. Matt wiped them on his pants and clutched the shotgun tight against his chest. He gave himself a silent three-count, leveled the barrel, and swept around the corner to the upstairs hallway, finding it empty.

He froze and listened.

Nothing.

No sound. No smoke. No nothing.

The second floor of Ellie’s house wasn’t very large. The ceilings were low, only seven feet, which was common for many older homes in New England. The hallway was narrow, more so than it should be. Ellie had once told him her father rebuilt the upstairs walls when she was little to add a couple of extra feet to the two bedrooms, both on Matt’s left as he looked down the hallway with a small bathroom at the far end.

The doors to all three rooms were open.

Ellie used the smaller of the two bedrooms, once her childhood bedroom, for storage. She’d moved into the master about a year after her father passed away. Her original bed was still in the old space, still covered with a pink bedspread, but the top was covered in boxes. Most of the floor was taken up with furniture she’d moved out of her father’s room and had never brought herself to part with. Although the room was cluttered, Matt could see enough to know nobody was in there. The window was closed, the curtains were drawn. There was no place to hide.

Matt continued toward the master bedroom while keeping one eye on the bathroom at the far end of the hall. Although that door was open, the shower curtain was closed. He couldn’t get to the bathroom without stepping past the open door of the master. If he wanted to ambush someone, he’d hide behind that curtain, draw them to the master, then come at them from behind. Or he’d stand in wait at the bedroom door and take out his adversary when they passed the opening. Either plan was solid. If one of Stu’s men had gotten up here, which would they choose?

A sound from the bedroom.

A soft sniff.

Addie.

Possibly in trouble.

Possibly bait.

Matt crouched low, firmly gripped the shotgun, and drew in a silent breath. Kicking off from his back foot, Matt closed the distance, got an angle on the bathroom, and fired once—dead center on the curtain. He yanked back the slide and chambered another shell as he brought the barrel around and pointed it into the bedroom.

Standing at what remained of the bedroom window, Addie let out a soft gasp.

In the bathroom, a heavy weight fell against the curtain, grabbed it from the inside, and fell over the side of the tub to the bathroom floor, bringing the curtain down with him.

John Hicks.

One of Stu Peterson’s buddies.

Dead.

Addie whimpered but didn’t move.

Both her hands were at her side, and Ellie’s Colt was on the floor about three feet in front of her. Her eyes darted toward the wall to the left of the doorway, then back to Matt.

Matt trained the shotgun on the back side of that wall and silently mouthed the words how many?

Before she could answer, Rodney Campos’s deep voice rolled from the bedroom. “I’m wearing a vest, Matt. You can try and shoot me through that wall, but you’re unlikely to hurt me. You might even hit your girlfriend with some stray buckshot or whatever the hell you got in there. This is the important part, so you’ll want to pay attention. I got my 9mm pointing at her belly. You can guarantee I’ll get at least one shot off before you can put me down— if you can put me down. I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty quick on the draw.”

Downstairs, more glass broke and Gabby fired two shots, screamed, and went quiet. Matt heard the stomping of boots across the wood floors, what sounded like the couch under one of the windows toppling over.

“That’s Stu and a few more of the guys,” Rodney went on. “We can do this without anyone getting hurt, or we can do it with a lot of people getting hurt, that’s entirely up to you. You ask me, it’s already over. Best not to make things hard on yourself.”

Matt stared in at Addie.

He motioned with his hand, tried to get her to dive to the side, give him a chance to take a shot, but she was either too panicked or didn’t understand. She didn’t move.

“You know me, Matt. I ain’t got much in the way of patience.”

From downstairs, Stu Peterson shouted up. “We got no reason to hurt Gabby, Matt. Don’t give us one! I need you to put down your hardware. Surrender yourself to John and Rodney.”

“I think John’s dead!” Rodney Campos shouted back. “Matt shot him!”

There was a momentary silence, then, “That’s fine, Matt. I won’t hold it over you. I never much liked that kid.”

“You’re not the law, Stu! You’re setting yourself up for a lot of time behind bars! Whoever you got with you, too!”

“All I’m doing is safely escorting all of you to a town meeting, like any good citizen. Anyone asks, that’s why we’re here. Would have helped the sheriff and that girl get there, too, but looks like Josh told the truth about them leaving. We came here to help you, keep you safe, and you started shooting. You killed a man. You’re acting irrational. That’s how I’ll tell it to the staties if they eventually show. Let’s see who they believe.” Peterson paused a beat. “We don’t have to turn this into a pissing match. Just put down your gun, come with us peacefully, and nobody else will get hurt. You got my word on that.”

Framed by the light of the window, Addie shook her head.

Matt’s heart was pounding so hard, he could hear the blood rushing through his ears. “We all go to the meeting. Talk this out with the rest of the town. Nobody else gets hurt!”

“You got my word,” Peterson repeated.

Matt edged the barrel of the shotgun closer to the spot where he believed Rodney was standing and tightened his finger on the trigger.

“You really gonna make me kill your kid, Matt? Your kid and your girlfriend?”

Matt saw it then: Rodney’s reflection in the mirror at the corner of Ellie’s room. Rodney was watching him, able to see his every move.

He couldn’t risk it.

Matt had no choice.

He gently placed the shotgun on the floor and raised both his hands over his head. “Okay! Nobody else gets hurt!”