Last Call

A shot rang out from somewhere by the lake. Then another. Redden froze.

Moses smiled to himself. "Told you."

THEO KEPT RUNNING TOWARD the barn. Darkness was his friend, but for maximum cover he moved from tree to tree across the pasture. Much of the forest had been cleared with the development of the farm, but the biggest oaks remained. Theo stopped about fifty yards from the stable entrance, crouched beneath century-old limbs.

Theo didn't know much about Redden, other than that he'd raped his mother. Studying the enemy before the attack was always a good idea, but somehow a fifty-something frat boy didn't seem that scary.

Moses was another story.

The fit between Redden and Moses didn't strike Theo as natural. Throw Isaac Reems into the mix, and that was one odd-shaped triangle. Crime, as the saying goes, makes for strange bedfellows. Theo supposed that was especially true when the rape of a black teenager in an all-white fraternity was caught on film.

Theo peered out from around the tree trunk and looked toward the barn. He couldn't be certain that Redden and Moses were still there, but two cars had been parked outside the stable earlier. Both were still there. Gilford's body was still lying in the driveway, too. Theo took those as good signs.

He plotted out his next several moves – tree to fence to stable – and began his final approach.

He was halfway to the fence when a gunshot pierced the silence. A tiny volcano of dirt exploded at his feet, and then another. He dove for cover behind a watering trough and took a moment to make sure he hadn't been hit. He hadn't. But one thing was certain.

Someone was still in that barn.

"IDIOT" SAID MOSES.

Redden was standing at the dutch door in the empty stall, his gun shaking in his hand. "I thought I could hit him."

"You panicked, moron. Another two minutes and I'd have had a shot I couldn't miss. Now he knows we're waiting for him."

"Then let's get out of here."

"We're not going anywhere," said Moses.

"You were supposed to take care of Knight, not me. I want out of here."

"It's too late," said Moses. "So here's the deal. Find yourself a stall and stay put. Do not move. If Knight sticks his nose inside, you blow his head off."

Redden started that nervous, frenetic pacing again. "No. Absolutely not."

"Who you tellin’ ‘no'?"

"I need to get out of here."

Moses considered it, then said, "All right. Go."

Redden stopped cold, his face alight. "You mean it?"

"Yeah. You can go. Take the car. I'll cover for you."

He breathed out something between a sigh of relief and giddy laughter. "Okay," he said, giving Moses what most white men thought was the black man's handshake. "You're cool, dude."

"I know. Now get outta here."

Redden opened the interior gate, turned to give Moses a mock salute, and then started ru

He was fifteen feet away when Moses shot him in the back of the head.

Redden fell facedown to the concrete.

Some people would call it cowardice to shoot a man from behind. Others might regard it as cruel. But Redden had disintegrated into a liability that was bound to get them both killed. So Moses saw it not only as a smart move, but as an act of kindness.

Fernando Redden died a happy man. In the HAPP-Y Stable.

One down, Moses told himself, one to go.

Chapter 49

Theo heard the gunshot and flattened himself to the ground. This time there was no explosion of dirt around him, and it sounded as if the round had been fired deep within the stable, not out toward the pasture.

Theo took that as yet another good sign – possible dissension, or at least confusion.

He waited a full minute before making another move. Utter silence from the stable made for an eerie darkness, but the cover of night was perhaps his sole advantage. He couldn't count on the element of surprise. The only safe approach was to assume that his enemy knew he was coming back for them. Why else would they have stayed put? They wanted the showdown as much as he did. The thought made his heart pound.

Left: or right? Theo had to choose a path to the stable. There were more trees and cover to the right. He rose up on one knee and took off like a sprinter exploding from the blocks. He made it to the corner of the barn and stopped.

Side or main entrance? Gilford had emerged through the large sliding door just before getting shot, and it was still open. But that seemed like a risky point of entry. If this barn was like others that Theo had seen, the main entrance would lead to a wide center aisle that offered little cover. Much better to try one of the smaller side entrances – the dutch doors that allowed riders to take a horse directly from the stall to the outdoors. Theo counted twelve such access doors on this side of the barn. He steadied his nerves, crouched low, and went to the nearest door. Slowly, as quietly as he could move, he tried the handle. It turned.

For a moment he didn't so much as breathe, expecting even this slight disturbance to draw gunfire. There was none. He turned the handle all the way, and again he waited. Then he pulled the door open about six inches. He stopped and looked inside.

It was a typical square stall with a straw-covered floor. The horse, a beautiful bay-colored thoroughbred, was standing to the side on three legs, the right hind hoof relaxing. The animal appeared to be asleep. Theo was no horse expert, but he knew better than to sneak up behind a sleeping thoroughbred. He pushed the door another six inches, trying to give himself a large enough opening to see if the next stall was empty. It was hard to tell in the darkness. A few more inches of open doorway might have afforded a better view, but this last nudge made the rusty hinges creak like nails on a chalkboard. A shot rang out, the door panel splintered just inches above his head, and the sleeping thoroughbred was suddenly wide awake and kicking.

Theo slammed the door shut and rolled to his left. Another shot rang out from somewhere inside the barn, and the bullet popped through the door behind him. Theo kept rolling, working his way along the side of the barn, but it was as if the shooter knew where he was headed. Rapid gunfire – at least a dozen quick shots – sent shattered pieces of the barn flying at his heels, and he had to roll as fast as he could to stay ahead of the trail of bullets. The shooting suddenly stopped, but Theo wasn't about to wait for it to start again. He opened a door at the barn's midpoint and ducked into a stall. This one was empty, but Theo could hear the neighing and clamor of startled horses all over the barn. He immediately drew his weapon, ready to return fire, but the shooter's gun had gone silent, which was even more confusing. He dove through the gap in fencing between stalls and kept crawling in the darkness, past horses, through piles of straw and horse droppings, until he was four stalls away from where he'd entered.

Theo stopped and listened. Excited horses in neighboring stalls were settling down, and he became aware of the sound of his own breathing. Then, peering out between the wood struts of the stall, he noticed something just beyond the gate. On the concrete floor of the stable's center aisle, a man lay twisted, a pool of blood surrounding his head. Theo started, but the body was utterly motionless, the eyes fixed open. Dead. He went to the gate for a closer look and saw that the corpse was Hispanic. Wearing Ferragamo shoes, an Armani jacket, and a Rolex wristwatch. A Hispanic with serious money. Theo couldn't be totally certain, but somehow he understood, for the very first time, that he was laying eyes upon the man who had nearly gotten away with the rape of Portia Knight.