There was another long silence.
“Rex?”
“But this town. Pineview. You should see it. It’s not prepared for what Ink is capable of doing.”
“Just stay in Buffalo with Peyton until I call. Then one of us will go to Pineview. Laurel means as much to me as she does to you, but this has to happen in a certain way or we’re all screwed.”
Rex’s response, when it finally came, was grudging. But an agreement from him was an agreement. Virgil trusted him to stand by his word. “Okay.”
The terminal opened up ahead of him, wide and cavernous, with people flowing in both directions, and he lengthened his stride. “Thanks,” he said, and he meant it.
“So what are you going to do now?” Rex asked.
“First thing? I’ve got to buy a gun. I couldn’t exactly bring one on the plane.”
“From where?”
“A few bucks spread around the right neighborhood, and I should be able to come up with something.”
“I’ve got a friend,” Rex said. “He’ll fix you up if you call him.”
“Can I trust this guy?”
“Completely. He doesn’t even know any of The Crew.”
Which meant Rex’s contact with this guy came before his gang involvement, before he went to prison. “What’s his name and number?”
As Rex gave it to him, Virgil put the information in his phone.
“And once you have…what you need?” Rex said.
“It’ll be time to pay Horse a little visit.”
Rex’s voice, which was muffled now, told Virgil he’d turned or moved away from Peyton, and for that, he was grateful. “What you’re planning—it’s suicide, you know that, right? You don’t have a prayer of pulling it off. Not alone.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, and pushed the End button.
24
Myles checked outside his front windows. He saw no truck parked at Vivian’s, no vehicle at all, except for hers, which was in the drive. From what he could tell, there were no lights on in the front of her house, and no squad car rolling down the street. The view looked exactly like it did every other night. The houses sat dark and quiet, the lake glimmered, placid, beneath the moon, and the stars dangled like Christmas ornaments above.
Because he doubted Ink and Lloyd would’ve approached Vivian’s house from the front, and he figured they’d probably come out the same way they went in, he hurried through his kitchen and exited onto the deck. There he paused to listen. He could hear his heart pounding with urgency, maybe even fear despite the gun in his hand, but he couldn’t hear voices or movement.
Had he already missed them?
That upstairs light didn’t allow him to see in the first-floor windows. Maybe when they found her gone they’d left without bothering to turn it off. Or they were ransacking her house right now, looking for clues or leaving surprises…?.
Guessing they’d be too disappointed and angry at finding her gone to simply go away, he walked as quickly and quietly as possible through Vivian’s garden. He had no idea what vegetables he happened to be trampling, but he wasn’t worried about it. If he could arrest Ink and Lloyd, send them back to prison where they belonged, it’d be worth a few smashed tomatoes.
Although Myles had put on his bulletproof vest along with his utility belt, he hadn’t taken the time to change into his uniform. He wore the vest over his T-shirt, knew it probably looked a little ridiculous, but he had what was necessary. That was all that mattered.
When he discovered the broken door, which stood slightly ajar, and the glass on the floor inside, he was especially glad he’d had the presence of mind to put on some shoes.
Someone had been in her house, all right.
Hinges squealing as he pushed the door wider, Myles stepped over the shards of glass and stopped again to listen. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything, either. There was no light whatsoever in this room. The moon slanted into the front of the house and didn’t filter to the back. Myles had brought his flashlight, but he didn’t dare use it. He wanted to find Ink and Lloyd before they realized he was there, so he felt his way through instead, hoping he wouldn’t knock something over in the process.
He hadn’t even made it out of the laundry room and into the kitchen when he heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. Whoever was here seemed to be leaving.
Without seeing where he was going, he couldn’t move fast so he snapped on his flashlight and charged through the swinging doors between the kitchen and the living room.
The shifting glow of his flashlight landed on the back of a man who was opening the door. Ink. He turned at that second, giving Myles a glimpse of his face. Then Myles spotted a second man, Lloyd, standing behind Ink across the threshold.
Lloyd had a gun. Ducking behind the sofa, Myles called out, “Hold it right there or I’ll shoot!”
They didn’t stop. Myles hadn’t really expected them to. Ink shoved Lloyd to the side, and attempted to shut the door behind him, so Myles squeezed the trigger. He felt the familiar recoil travel up his arm and hoped to God he’d hit something. He was peering around the sofa to see, when someone flung the door open again. It crashed against the wall with a bang that reverberated through the house just before the sound of a second shot, this one coming from the bad guys.
Ink had taken control of the firearm. Blinded by Myles’s flashlight, he was shooting into the dark, but he’d come darn close. Too close. When Myles heard the bullet whiz past his ear, he tossed the flashlight into the living room so it couldn’t give his location away and dropped to the floor. But there wasn’t any time for the Oh, shit! that was going through his mind. He had to act and he had to act now.
Lifting his Glock, he fired once, twice, three times.
And he hit someone. He heard the grunt of pain, the curse.
Hoping the squad car he’d ordered would come and hem them in at the front, he waited. Without his flashlight, he couldn’t see them anymore. “Ink?” he called out. “Drop your weapon!”
“Go to hell!” came the reply. Then someone started to run.
It had to be Lloyd. Myles didn’t believe Ink could move that fast, not with his handicap. That meant he had a good chance of apprehending Ink, even if Lloyd managed to escape. But he wouldn’t get anyone if he stayed where he was. He had to sacrifice the cover of the sofa in order to advance.
First, he wanted to reload. The clip he’d been using wasn’t out of bullets, but he didn’t want to be down to two or three shots if he got into another exchange. So he changed clips by feel alone, then rose cautiously to his feet.