Part 22 (2/2)

Feeling along the wall, his fingertips found a light switch. He flicked it. A single bulb came on.

No car.

But he smiled as he saw what he wanted.

Lacey, shocked awake by the shooting, grabbed her revolver, scrambled off the makes.h.i.+ft bed, and rushed into the living room. She saw Scott kneeling on the couch, aiming through the open slats of a window.

He glanced around at her.

”Come here,” he said.

She hurried to the window.

”See that guy out there? Dukane's in the garage. He'll be coming out in a minute, and the guy'll try to nail him. Take my place here. I'll go to the front. When Dukane comes out, start shooting.”

”It's too far.”

”Doesn't matter. With fire coming from two angles, he won't know whether to...”

”s.h.i.+t or go blind?”

”Exactly.”

Lacey nodded, and Scott ran out the front door. She c.o.c.ked the revolver. She lined up the distant man in the sights, glanced away at the garage door, then back to the man. From his location, it looked as if the garage would give Dukane shelter for the first two or three yards. Then he would be in the open.

Her hand was sweaty on the walnut grips.

Too bad the man's so far away, she thought. If he was half that distance, she'd stand a much better chance of hitting him.

Just as well, maybe. She didn't need another killing on her conscience.

The garage door opened. She sighted on the man and held her breath. Then she glanced again at the door. Dukane stepped out, a large metal container in each hand. But he didn't run. Instead, he set them outside the door and vanished into the garage. Moments later, he reappeared. With a ladder!

He spread the ladder's legs, climbed it, and boosted himself onto the roof of the garage.

He was gone.

Seconds pa.s.sed. Lacey licked her parched lips.

Then a single gunshot roared in the stillness.

The distant figure of the rifleman lurched as if kicked, and dropped flat.

Dukane climbed down the ladder. He made a thumbs-up gesture toward Lacey, then carried the ladder back into the garage. He picked up the two containers, and strolled across the open area.

He and Scott came into the house, beaming like boys who'd just won a no-hitter.

”Nice play,” Scott said.

”The b.a.s.t.a.r.d came too close, first time across. I chickened out of the return run.”

”Wonder if we can get his rifle.”

”Not worth the risk. The rear man would pick us off. But I got what I wanted.” He raised the cans: a two-gallon tin of gasoline and a gallon container of turpentine.

Lacey frowned. ”Turpentine? You're going to take the paint off Hoffman?”

”Right.”

”Don't.”

”Could come in very handy. Lacey, you stay out here and keep an eye on the situation. Scott, get your recorder. No time like the present to get his story.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.

Statement of Samuel Hoffman July 20

Okay. You want me to talk, I'll talk. Give you everything you need to know for your f.u.c.kin' book that's gonna get you killed.

I'm Sammy Hoffman. You guys know that, right? Okay. So I'll start with something you don't know. How about this? I banged my English teacher way back in high school. She was a c.u.n.t. That's what you do to c.u.n.ts, bang'em.

The one I really wanted, it was Lacey. Used to spend all my time looking at her, thinking how she'd look naked, thinking how her t.i.ts'd feel, and her a.s.s and her puss. Now I know, now I know. Only wish I'd got her then. She was just sixteen. Should've took her someplace and kept her. But I was chicken-s.h.i.+t. She was too d.a.m.n beautiful. Scared me off. Yeah, well, got her at last. Well worth the wait, I tell you that. You guys oughta have a sample, if you haven't already.

Okay, so I had this hard-on for Lacey but I was scared to touch her and this English teacher b.i.t.c.h p.i.s.sed me off so I did her instead. Right on top of her desk after school. It was a kick.

I was dumb, then. If I was smart, I'd of turned the b.i.t.c.h's switch off so she couldn't put her mouth on me. But I didn't, and she did.

Adios, Oasis.

So I'm on the road, here and there and everywhere, doing people every chance I get, always on the move. s.h.i.+t, I've probably got kids from one end of the country to the next,'less all the hons got themselves sc.r.a.ped. Yeah, well, plenty were probably on the pill.

Left lots of graves, too. Dead men don't yap. Learned my lesson from the English teacher. See, she taught me something, after all. Thought I was stupid.

Stupid, all right. I should've stayed on my own. That was my big mistake.

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