Page 49 of No Safe Place

“Is that Big Joe?” Scotty said.

We all seemed spellbound for a moment as we watched. He was coming at us at top speed, his lanky arms pumping. Even at a distance you could hear the loud chug of his breath. It was like he was doing the hundred-yard dash at a football tryout.

“Help!” Big Joe suddenly screamed. “Help! They’re killing everyone! They’re killing everyone.”

“What?” Scotty said.

We all saw it then a split second later.

I heard it because I knew the sound. But the others just saw it.

From up the rise of Main Street, came the soft clack-clack-clack of suppressed gunfire and with it, a gush of blood blossomed at Big Joe’s throat.

He was still running when another soft clack-clack-clack came and he tottered forward, trying to keep his balance. But he couldn’t do it. The big man went down in a headlong face-plant so hard he actually bumped up off the asphalt, before he skidded to a stop in a kind of rag doll tumble against the gutter.

“What, what in the world?” said Scotty in shock.

“Oh, my—” Daisy cried. “He’s dead! Big Joe’s dead!”

I grabbed Daisy and steered her back for the front door of The Forge.

“Everyone back into the restaurant! Now, now, now!” I said.

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“What in the hell?” Scotty said in shock as the last of us came inside and I bolted the door.

“You, could you help me with this please?” I said to Brooklyn as I grabbed the reservation podium.

“Name’s Mario,” he said.

“Mike,” I said.

“What the hell is going on?” he said as we dropped the big piece of furniture down sideways. It was heavy, easily a hundred pounds. With it propped against the door, no one was getting in without a fire axe.

“What did we just see?” came another voice.

It was Papa Bear. He had an accent. I was going with Swedish as he was the size of a Viking.

“First go the lights? Now a killing?” he said.

After I made double sure the heavy podium had the front door well barricaded, I went to a front window and flipped a blind. There was no one out there on Main Street. Just Big Joe. He was still lying there in the gutter in front of the grocery store.

“Can’t we help him? Maybe he needs CPR. Does anyone know CPR?” said Daisy, suddenly looking out the window beside me.

“No, Daisy. He’s gone,” I said. “He was dead before he hit the ground and whoever shot him is still out there.”

“You heard what he said, right?” Mario said. “They’re killing everyone? Who the hell are they?”

I shot a look over at Jodi and Colleen, who were standing beside the booth, telepathically messaging them to keep their mouths shut.

“Any ideas what this could be about?” Scotty chimed in.

“I used to be a cop,” I said. “This looks like a hit to me. Maybe a drug hit. The cartels are very sophisticated. They will cut the power, jam the cell sites. Even act like cops. They’re all paramilitary now. Very well funded, highly sophisticated and highly trained.”

I said this because the script had changed, I knew.

We were on this ride together now. That we all had just witnessed that murder meant that not just Jodi and Colleen, but myself and everyone else in the room were all marked for death as well.

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