Spencerville

He never heard Baxter yell out in pain, never heard the rounds slap against the body armor, and never heard the sound of a man falling. He realized that Baxter must have moved or crouched low after he'd spoken and before Keith fired. Baxter had made a smart move. Keith had made a fatal move. He heard Baxter's voice, coming from a different place, saying, "So long, sucker..."

Instead of the explosion of Baxter's rifle firing into him, he heard a dull thud. He had no idea of what that was, but it meant he wasn't dead, and he jumped to his feet, lunging toward the sofa with his knife in his hand. He collided with the sofa and slashed out with his knife, then something hit his legs and fell to the floor, making another, softer thud.

There were no more sounds in the dark room, then he heard a groan, then a floor lamp came on beside the sofa.

It took him a second for his eyes to adjust to the light, and even then he wasn't completely processing what he saw.

Baxter was kneeling on the sofa in front of him, slumped over the back, his head and bare arms dangling toward Keith. Baxter was wearing a thick gray nylon vest, and Keith saw blood ru

Keith, the knife still in his hand, glanced down at his feet and saw the rifle with the night scope lying on the floor and realized that this is what had hit him in the legs. He knew he hadn't gotten Baxter with his knife, yet Baxter was bleeding now from the mouth.

Keith was aware of A

Baxter groaned, and his head lolled to the side, the blood still trickling from his mouth.

Keith looked back at A

The sofa was between him and her, but he put out his arm, reaching past Baxter, and motioned for her to give him the poker. He noticed now that she had leg irons around her ankles. He made another motion for her to hand him the poker, but she shook her head.

Cliff Baxter groaned again, and Keith looked at him. Blood was ru

Baxter raised his head, and, still conscious, looked at Keith and said, "Fuck you..." Then he tried to stand and turn around, his head and eyes moving around the room. "A

She swung the poker in a wide overhead arch and brought it down hard against the top of her husband's head, sending him sprawling back over the couch.

Keith could actually hear the skull crack and saw Baxter's eyes bulge out of his sockets and blood pour from his nose. Keith was not at all surprised by that second, fatal blow — he was certain she knew far better than anyone else what she was doing and why.

A

He said, "All right... it's all right..."He continued to speak softly to her as he moved around the sofa. She took a tentative step toward him, then a longer step, but the chain pulled taut and she stumbled. He caught her arms and moved her gently back into a chair, making her sit down. He took off his shirt, put it around her shoulders, and put his hand on her cheek. "It's okay."

Keith stepped away from her and picked up the poker. He took a long stride toward the sofa and brought the poker down with all his strength on the top of Baxter's already smashed skull. He noted, irrelevantly, that Baxter was in his underwear, that his skin was pale, and that his sphincter had let loose.

Keith threw the poker on the floor and turned to A

She didn't reply.

He said again, "A

She looked at Keith.

He knelt in front of her and took her hands, which were cold and clammy. He said, "It's okay now. You're going to be all right. We're going back to Spencerville now."

She nodded, and tears ran down her cheeks. She said, "Thank you."

This wasn't the time, Keith thought, to thank her for saving his life, because Keith wanted to establish a different set of events in her mind. He rubbed her hands and asked her, "Are you hurt?"

"No." She touched his face where the blood was still wet from the knife cut. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine." He saw a bruise on her face and bruises on her legs. Her eyes looked all right, though her skin was pale and cold. As he held her hands, he felt that her pulse was fast but regular. "You're okay. You're tough."

She ignored this and said to him, "He has the keys around his neck. I want these off." She jiggled the manacles around her ankles. "I want them off."

He smiled at her. "Okay."

He stood, went over to Baxter's body, and ripped the key chain off Baxter's bloody neck. He knelt in front of A

"I unscrewed it with the poker."

He nodded. Keith unlocked the leg manacles and rubbed her ankles. "Okay?"

"Yes."

"Let's get you dressed and out of here."

She didn't seem to want to move, but then she looked at Cliff Baxter slumped dead over the back of the sofa and said, "Yes, I want to get out of here. Help me up."

He stood and helped her stand, turning her away from the dead body. He walked with his arm around her as she made her way toward the hallway, his shirt draped over her shoulders.

She stopped and moved away from him. "I can do this. Wait here. I'll be dressed in a few minutes."

"Okay."

She hesitated a moment, then looked at him and asked, "There was someone else outside, wasn't there?"

"Yes. Billy Marlon."

"Is he dead?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

She looked at Cliff Baxter, then at Keith and said, "I killed him."

He didn't reply.

She put her hand on his face and looked into his eyes a long time, then said, "I knew you'd come."

"I told you I would."

"Well... I hope you think it was worth it."

He smiled at her and kissed her. "What are friends for?"

Chapter Forty-three

Billy Marlon's pickup truck rolled south along Route 127. By the time Keith and A

Keith glanced at A

"I want to stay awake and look at you."

He smiled. "I've looked better."

"You look fine."

"You, too," he said. In fact, he knew, neither of them looked their best, but A

He said to her, "I broke into your house before I came to the lodge, to look for clues. I wanted you to know that."

"That's all right." She smiled again. "You're such a gentleman. Was everything clean?"

"It's a nice house." He added, "You're still a neat freak."

"There's a pig inside trying to get out."

"Good."

They drove on in silence awhile, and when they spoke, it had little or nothing to do with the last three days.