Part 42 (1/2)

”You too, Micky. Please don't get hurt any more than you already are.”

”Cordelia,” I said, for perhaps the last time. ”I love you.”

”I know,” was all she replied. For an instant her hands held my face and she touched her lips to mine.

Then she was gone, disappearing into the darkness, leaving me with only the lingering fragrance of her warmth. But the chill of the night rapidly overtook it and I knew we had to keep moving.

”Come on. Let's go,” I said.

”Where? Where's Cordelia?” he asked.

”Follow me. In position,” I answered both his questions. ”And be quiet.”

Their cars were parked behind the barn. That was why I hadn't seen them when I drove up. There were four cars still here. None of them costing less than fifty grand, including a vintage Rolls, probably Korby's. No keys in any of the cars, not that I thought there would be. Cordelia will be all right and there are keys in Karen's car, I told myself.

Unfortunately for the Rolls, its gas cap was easy to open. The cap on the Mercedes was also easy to pry loose. I told Th.o.r.eau to stand watch. I dumped the rags and the hay on the ground and poured gasoline over them, saturating the pile as much as I could. By tying some of the rags together, I made two separate lengths each about five feet long. I stuffed the end of one into the open gas tank of the Rolls. The same for the Mercedes. By overlapping the rest of the rags, and when I ran out * 270 *

of rags, hay, I managed to make a thirty-foot fuse. It was Y-shaped with the rags from the two cars meeting, then continuing in one line to where I was standing.

Dawn was coming. My hands and the light Mercedes seemed to be glowing faintly, but they were only reflecting the first dim light from the horizon.

”Go on over to the trees, near the front of the barn,” I told Th.o.r.eau.

”When this thing blows, run for the road as fast as you can. Wait, rub some dirt on that red s.h.i.+rt.” Bright red, the perfect color for morning light.

”This is one of my favorite s.h.i.+rts,” he argued.

”Do it!” I hissed at him. He rubbed some dry gra.s.s on his chest. I didn't have time to argue. I hoped there would be no one looking in his direction. ”Get going,” I said. He didn't need to be told twice.

I took a lighter out of my jacket pocket. Every good girl detective carries razors and lighters. And tampons, but I hoped not to have to use one of those.

I flicked my Bic and the hay caught fire. I turned and ran away as fast as I could. I wasn't interested in seeing my handiwork. I was about halfway back along the side of the barn when there was a tremendous roar and the sky flashed and crackled with an orange glow. When I reached the front of the barn, I spotted Th.o.r.eau huddling behind a tree a few yards in front of me.

The guard should be heading this way now, I mentally calculated.

If luck ran our way, Milo and second goon boy would use the back door and we could all avoid any unpleasant meetings. I ran on, trying to keep as many bushes and trees between me and the house as I could.

I motioned Th.o.r.eau to keep running. I hoped Cordelia was okay.

I was really beginning to hate rich people and their fetish for endless yards. There had to be two hundred oaks on the estate and it looked like I would get to run by every one of them before I got to the road. Th.o.r.eau continued loping in front of me, his s.h.i.+rt seeming to get redder and redder with each pa.s.sing tree. The sun was coming up, though I knew it couldn't be coming up as quickly as it felt.

We got to the long open section of the lawn. Th.o.r.eau was bright red in the middle of it when I left the trees. I risked a quick glance back to the driveway. I didn't see Karen's car. She had made it, I cheered silently.

* 271 *

”The car's gone,” Th.o.r.eau yelled back at me.

Idiot. Shut up. Hopefully Milo and boys were too busy behind the barn to hear anything except the sound of that Rolls-Royce going up in smoke.

I was catching up to Th.o.r.eau in the flat. Wait to wring his neck until you get in the car, Micky, I told myself. We had another fifty or seventy-five yards before we got to the road. There was another line of trees and shrubs, so I couldn't see the pavement, but I knew the car was there. Th.o.r.eau was only about five feet in front of me. I would pa.s.s him and get the front seat beside Cordelia, I told myself smugly.

Then I tripped. I couldn't figure out how I had tripped on this immaculately smooth lawn, until I tried to stand up. Pain shot through my leg and I realized that I had been shot.

I limped a few steps. I would never make it to the road in time without help.

”Th.o.r.eau,” I called. He had just reached the cover of the trees. He turned back, looked at me, then at something behind me. He wavered for a second, but only a second. He turned and ran, leaving me behind.

I staggered into the trees, waiting for the final bullet in the back or in the head. But it didn't arrive. Not yet. I wasn't going to make it to the road. Cordelia's free, that's all that matters. And so is that jerk.

I thought about sitting down and just letting the goons catch me. No more running uselessly from fate.

d.a.m.n it, no! I wasn't going to make it easy for them. Besides, someone had to be around to object at Cordelia's wedding. I ripped off my jacket and wrapped it around my leg. I had been shot in the thigh.

I didn't want any blood dripping on to the ground and leaving a trail.

Instead of heading for the road, I turned for the swamp. The edge of it was only about ten yards away. I could hide for a long time in that mora.s.s. If I was lucky.

I half-rolled, half-slid down the slope into the bog. I hoped I didn't leave too much of a b.l.o.o.d.y trail. Bracing against a pine tree for support, I hauled myself up. Using my good leg and trees for balance, I limped into the shadows of the swamp. I found a gra.s.sy knoll and crawled to the top, hoping to see the road. There was a gap in the trees, lighter with the encroaching dawn, but I couldn't be sure if it was the road or not.

I shouldn't be lingering here on this high ground. Still, I stared at the * 272 *

gap. One more minute and I have to leave, I told myself. There was the briefest flash of red past the opening, then it was gone.

She had made it. Cordelia was safe, I exalted. Finally, one person that I hadn't let die.

I limped off the high ground, the mud sucking wetly at my feet.

Blood had soaked through my jacket and was running down my leg.

I smeared it into my pants to keep it from dripping onto the ground.

At least it was my own clothes that I was destroying this time. It was getting colder. No, it was getting warmer with the sun coming up. I was getting colder. I was wet and muddy and b.l.o.o.d.y and had to use too much energy just to keep going.

I was guessing that they would a.s.sume I would try to make it to the road. So I headed toward the river, painfully making my way through the dense undergrowth and treacherous mud holes.

One good thing about being shot in the leg was that it stopped everything else from hurting. The drop-something-very-heavy-on-your-foot school of headache cures.

I found some relatively dry ground and gingerly let myself down.

My leg needed attention. I slowly undid the jacket, trying not to make it bleed any more than it already did.

Daylight was filtering in, penetrating even this dense tangle. Light enough for me to examine my leg. It wasn't so bad, merely a flesh wound, I told myself. But what do I know about medicine, the voice of reality answered. I could be bleeding to death. I tried not to think about that.

I took the razor out of my jacket pocket and cut off one of the jacket sleeves. Then I cut the sleeve into two halves, lengthwise. These halves I wound tightly around my leg, splitting the tail end of the top one and tying it off. That would have to do. I put the b.l.o.o.d.y jacket back on.

I heard voices off in the distance. I had to keep moving. I hobbled toward the river, away from the voices. Every twenty feet or so, I had to stop, clutching whatever tree was handy in an attempt to take weight off my one supporting leg. Still, it wasn't long before I could feel fatigue trembling in my muscles. I had to find some place to hide and rest. I veered farther into the swamp. I had been traveling parallel with One Hundred Oaks Plantation toward the river. Now I was angling away * 273 *

from it, toward the river and the place where Barbara and I had been held. So long ago, it seemed.

The ground was getting wetter as I walked. Soon I was wading in water mid-calf to knee level. I was beginning to s.h.i.+ver from the cold water. And I was making too much noise splas.h.i.+ng through the water on one leg. I tentatively put my weight on the damaged leg. Pain shot through me. I gritted my teeth and put a little more weight onto the leg.