Rusty Nail

Safe. He was safe.

But I wasn’t.

Bud peered down at me and wrapped his fingers in my hair, pressing the gun against my left eye.

“BUD! HELP ME! GET THE CAT!”

Bud looked at Lorna, then at me, then at Lorna, then at me. He eventually removed the gun from my face and aimed at Lorna. His hand jittered and shook, and Lorna spun like a dervish, Mr. Friskers sticking to her face like Velcro.

“HELP ME, BUD!”

Bud fired the gun at Mr. Friskers.

The bullet caught Lorna in the exact center of the N in DUNES on her stolen T-shirt.

Her wailing stopped mid-yelp, and she pitched forward onto the floor.

Mr. Friskers, the ride over, hopped off her head and trotted out of the kitchen.

Something between a sob and a scream escaped Bud’s mouth. He swung the gun at me, his fist shaking so badly, I was sure it would go off.

“Save her! Save her!”

I crawled to Lorna. The exit wound in her back left an indentation the size of a cereal bowl under her shirt, which quickly filled with blood. Blood also spread out under her in a rapidly widening pool.

I grabbed a towel hanging from the refrigerator handle and pressed it against her wound. With my free hand, I searched the flab of her neck for a pulse.

I found it for three erratic beats, and then it stopped.

“Save her!”

I stared up at Bud.

“She’s dead.”

Bud opened and closed his mouth, like a fish trying to breathe air. The gun remained pointed, more or less, at me.

He whispered, “She’s not dead.”

“You killed her, Bud.”

“No, no, no, no…”

“She loved you, and you shot her…”

“An accident. I tried to help her.”

I held out my hand.

“Give me the gun, Bud.”

For the briefest instant I thought he would, but then his eyebrows creased in anger.

“NO! You’re a harlot! A liar! A devil! You controlled that cat, made her attack my Lorna!”

“Did I make you pull the trigger, Bud? You’re the one that pulled the trigger.” I stared at him, hard. “You’ve si

Bud’s face lost color, and though he was looking at me, his eyes seemed to be focused on something else, something beyond me.

“I’ve… si

“You’re a si

“I… need punishment.”

“Yes you do, Bud. I’m a police officer. I can punish you.”

“Punish me?”

“Thou shalt not kill, Bud. You’ve committed a terrible sin. But we can make it right. Let me have the gun.”

“I can make it right.”

Bud turned, facing the stove. I glanced around for Lorna’s gun, but couldn’t find where it had skidded off to.

“O my God,” Bud began his contrition. “I am heartily sorry for having offended You, and I detest all my sins…”

“Bud, don’t-”

I crawled backward like a crab, inching my way out of the kitchen, not wanting to watch but unable to turn away as Bud Kork plunged his hand into a boiling pot of hot oil.

His scream was inhuman.

I flipped onto my front and was using the doorway to get to my feet, just in time to see Latham walk through my front door, Holly at his side.

CHAPTER 47

ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, I was getting real sick of the Kork family.

Holly pressed her gun, the Wolverine, tight under Latham’s jaw, hard enough to force his chin up. She wore jeans, a sweatshirt, and heavy construction boots – the same boots she’d worn while shooting at me in Diane Kork’s burning house.

“Hello, Jack.” Her smile was dazzling, without a hint of the sickness that it hid. “Look who I found ru

Holly closed the front door using her foot. Behind me, Bud whimpered like a kicked dog.

“This is Latham, right? You described him to me in the car. You were right. He’s adorable.”

Latham’s eyes, so full of hope and promise a minute ago, had gone back to being blank and dead.

“Handcuffs,” Holly said.

“In the bedroom.”

“Let’s go get them.”

Holly kept her free hand on Latham’s arm, and the three of us walked into the kitchen.

When Holly saw the mess, she began to laugh.

“Looks like I missed the party.”

She gave Lorna a contemptuous kick, then turned her attention to Bud, who was curled up on the floor in a fetal position, shivering and cradling his burned hand. It was lobster red, pocked with blisters, puffed out to about twice the normal size.

“Hello, Father.”

“Alex… my baby…”

Again I sca

I spotted his Glock, on the floor next to the stove. Holly spotted it too. She pulled Latham over, moved the Wolverine from his chin to his belly, and did a quick bu

“Want to see how good I am left-handed?”

“Not really.”

“Then head for the bedroom.”

My handcuffs were on the nightstand, next to the bed. Holly spent a moment standing in the doorway, taking everything in.

“That’s the closet my brother hid in?”

“Yeah.”

She stared at it, almost reverentially, then ordered me to cuff Latham’s hands behind his back and step away.

“I’m sorry,” I told him.

His lips were a tight, thin line. “I’m getting used to it.”

“That’s right.” Holly nudged Latham. “You were alone with my brother for a while.”

Latham raised an eyebrow. “Your brother?”

“This is the Gingerbread Man’s sister,” I said. “The guy in the kitchen is her father.”

Latham stared at Holly. “You folks are in some serious need of family counseling.”

Holly’s lips formed a pout.

“Are you saying you didn’t like my brother?”

“He kept drooling on himself and trying to grab my ass.”

Holly apparently didn’t think that was fu

I sprung forward to help him, and got the Glock shoved in my face.

“Stay cool, Jack. We’re just getting started.”

Though I put on a brave front, staring down the barrel of a gun scared the crap out of me. It hadn’t happened that many times in my career, but each time it did, the feeling was the same.

I felt a hot spot, like a laser beam, where the gun was aimed. I knew what guns could do. The damage they caused. The death they brought. Staring at something so deadly made my heart race and my throat constrict and my palms sweat and my knees turn to mush.

All she needed to do was exert a few pounds of pressure on that trigger, and I no longer existed.

It was kind of like the feeling you get after narrowly avoiding a car accident. That sick, hollow feeling of dread, knowing what might have happened.

Except with a gun, what might have happened might still happen.

“Where’s Harry and Phin?” I managed to say.

“Fu

“They’re still alive?”

Holly smiled her seductive smile.

“Jack, look how cute you are, all full of hope. Yes, they’re still alive. I plan on keeping all of you alive for as long as possible. As you can imagine, I put a lot of work into this whole production. I want to enjoy the fruits of my labors.”

I eyed the Jewel bag, containing the Kork videotapes and files, sitting next to my TV.

It also contained Kork’s hunting knife, which I’d checked out of evidence.

Holly caught my furtive glance.

“Something interesting in the bag, Jack? Let’s see.”

She turned both guns on me and walked over to the bag.

“Videos. Are these the ones Charles and I made?”

I nodded.

“Did you watch them?”

“Yeah.”

“Did they make you hot?”

“They made me sick.”