Part 35 (1/2)
”About us, dammit,” Steven said.
Her voice was sugar-sweet. ”And what 'us' would that be?”
Exasperated, Steven gestured toward the gas pump. ”Maybe you've noticed that that thing isn't working,” he told her.
She sighed, sounding put-upon. ”I guess I'll have to go inside to pay,” she answered. ”Get Martine to flip the switch.”
With that, she walked away, moving toward the gla.s.s doors of the entrance at an impressive clip.
Steven followed, double-stepping to catch up. ”I can't stop thinking about you,” he was surprised-and mortified-to hear himself say.
Melissa favored him with a winning smile, waited while he held one of the doors for her, and whispered, ”Try a little harder, then.”
She was inside in the next moment, Steven right behind her.
”There has to be a way around this lawyer thing,” he whispered back, nearly colliding with Melissa when she stopped abruptly.
The store was silent, and yet the air seemed to vibrate.
Martine was indeed behind the counter, and Nathan Carter was right beside her, with the barrel of a pistol pressed up hard under her fleshy chin. Her eyes were round with fear and they flitted between Steven and Melissa, begging for help.
Steven acted instinctively; caught Melissa by one arm and fairly threw her behind him.
”Put the gun down,” he told Nathan, his voice calm.
Melissa was back, and she tried to edge around him, but, with one arm, he eased her behind him again.
Carter merely c.o.c.ked the pistol, a flashy move, like he'd watched a lot of old Westerns on TV or something, and then practiced endlessly.
Oddly, it struck Steven then, and certainly not for the first time, that if criminals put the same effort into honest work as they did taking illegal shortcuts, they wouldn't need to turn to crime.
Martine made a small, whimperlike sound. ”The armored car service came today,” she said weakly, her eyes awash in tears now, ”picked up most of the cash we had on hand. All I have is a couple hundred dollars, so I can make change.”
”Shut up,” Carter rasped, poking Martine harder with the gun.
”Easy,” Steven said, in a tone he usually reserved for spooked horses and unfriendly dogs. ”You don't want the kind of trouble you'll be in if Martine gets hurt. Believe me, you don't.”
Carter was sweating, and his pupils seemed to be spiraling in the centers of his eyes. He was high, or drunk, maybe both. Very bad news. Drugs, alcohol and stupidity didn't make a good combination.
”She's lying about the money,” the thief growled. ”She won't tell me where the money is!”
”I just have what's right here in the till,” Martine insisted, in a frantic squeak. ”We've been selling a lot of gas and beer and soda and stuff, with all these people in town for the parade and the rodeo, and the boss wanted most of the money in the bank-”
”I told told you to shut up,” Carter said. Then, quicker than Steven would have thought anybody could move, especially when they were stoned, he turned the pistol in his hand and used the b.u.t.t of it to whack Martine hard in the side of the head. you to shut up,” Carter said. Then, quicker than Steven would have thought anybody could move, especially when they were stoned, he turned the pistol in his hand and used the b.u.t.t of it to whack Martine hard in the side of the head.
The sound was like a baseball bat striking a water-melon.
Melissa screamed, more in objection than fright.
And Steven pitched himself over the counter at Carter, who, in that split second, was fumbling with the weapon.
A shot ripped through the air, shattered the gla.s.s in the front window.
The alarm began to shriek.
Steven landed on Carter and they both went down, in a tangle, not far from where Martine lay, perfectly still and bleeding.
The quarters were close behind that counter. Carter still had the gun-Steven could feel it pressed sideways between him and his adversary, knew the other man was groping for the trigger, and if he managed to get a finger around it- Sirens sounded in the distance-too far far in the distance. in the distance.
The struggle for control of the gun seemed never-ending, although it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. When the pistol went off, Steven froze, waiting for the bullet to tear through him.
But it was Carter who'd been hit.
He looked up at Steven, smirked and then closed his eyes.
Steven raised himself slowly, got as far as his knees, then took the gun from the dead man's fingers-there was blood everywhere by then, some of it Carter's, some of it Martine's.
Melissa scrambled, half crawling, around the base of the counter, her eyes huge, her face chalk-white. Her gaze found Steven, clung to him for a fraction of a moment, skittered over Nathan Carter and fixed itself on Martine, who was beginning to stir. Moaning a little.
”Are you hit?” Melissa asked. And when she didn't get an answer in the next second, she repeated, ”Steven, are you hit?” ”Steven, are you hit?”
”No,” he said. The b.l.o.o.d.y pistol made a thunking sound as he reached up and set it on the counter.
She wriggled past him, and Carter, to reach Martine. ”Hold on,” she murmured to the other woman. ”Please, hold on. Help is coming. Do you hear the sirens? You're all right now, you're safe-”
The sirens were louder.
Closer.
Steven hauled himself to his feet, dazed.
Flas.h.i.+ng lights swiped at the windows, a slap of red, a slap of blue.
He blinked.
Melissa was still on the floor, trying to comfort Martine.
Tom Parker burst in, gun drawn, still wearing his fancy parade uniform. ”What the h.e.l.l-?” he said.
”You can holster that thing,” Steven told him, in a remarkably calm voice. ”The shooting is over.”
Tom hesitated as two deputies piled in behind him, their own service revolvers out and ready.
Tom raised a hand, evidently a signal that any immediate danger was past, and ordered, ”Tell the EMTs it's okay to come in, and make sure-make d.a.m.n sure d.a.m.n sure-n.o.body else sets foot in here. I don't want this scene messed up.”
The deputies obeyed.
Things had been happening at warp speed right along, but now time seemed to move even faster.
The EMTs appeared.