Page 134 of Blood Moon

“Shit! Stay on the line.” John put the car in park and chambered a bullet in his pistol. Talking to Beth, he said, “I want to be there when he arrives. Back up the car. Back onto the highway. Out of sight. Hurry. And call 911. Ask for sheriff and medical. Mitch?”

“Here.”

“If he doesn’t stop here, keep following him; we’ll catch up. But this feels right.”

“I have your back.”

John got out of the car as Beth ran around the hood to the driver’s side. She clambered in, put it in reverse, and stomped on the accelerator.

John ran along a weedy path up to the structure he’d seen thanks to one benevolent sunbeam that had found its way through a thick vine, making a beacon of a patch of tin.

The keypad lock on the door was too sophisticated to bother with; he’d never get it open in time. Instead, he ran along the far side of the building around to the rear, where he wouldn’t be seen if Wallace arrived.

He knocked on the corrugated tin wall with the butt of his pistol. “Molly! Molly! It’s Dad. Are you in there?”

It seemed that an entire lifetime slowly unspooled in the seconds between his shout and her feeble answer. “Dad?”

His knees went weak. His head thumped against the wall in relief. “I’m here. I’m here. I’m waiting on the son of a bitch who took you, and he’s due to arrive any second, so listen up. First, did he hurt you? Are you injured?”

“He hit me in the head. I think I have a concussion.”

“Okay, okay, Beth is calling 911. Are you tied up?”

“Yes. Hands and feet. How’d you find me?”

“Later, sweetheart. Listen. Are you sitting or lying?”

“Lying on the floor.”

“Don’t move. I’m going to try to surprise him when he opens the door. Did he have a weapon? What did he hit you with?”

“A purse.”

A purse?“You didn’t see a gun?”

“No.”

“Okay, good. I’m gonna get you out of here. Just stay down on the floor, low as you can, don’t—” He broke off, listened. “Molly, I hear his car coming. I can’t talk anymore and don’t you say anything else and give us away. Got it? Not another word.”

She didn’t answer, minding him without an argument for once in her life.

John’s heart was in his throat as he heard the car come to a stop and the engine die. The car door closed. Footsteps led up to the bolted door. He knew he had to time this just right, to catch him between opening the door and shutting it behind himself. He couldn’t spring either too soon or too late.

He was out of sight of the door as he crept along the side of the building toward the front. He got close enough tohear metal sliding against metal as the bolts were worked, then the swish of the door as it was pushed open.

“Hello, Molly. Ready for your big day?”

John rounded the corner and launched himself at the figure standing in the open doorway. He knocked him facedown to the floor and put the muzzle of his .45 against the back of his neck. “Don’t move or you are dead.”

“Detective Bowie,” he said pleasantly. “Surely you wouldn’t kill me in front of your daughter.”

“I wouldn’t count on that if I were you, Professor.” Mitch came up beside them. “I’ve known John for a long time. He gets pissed easily. I have to talk him down all the time.” He knelt and cuffed the man behind his back. “I’ll take over here, bro. See to Molly. Ambulance is coming down the road.”

John went over to where she was lying just as he’d instructed her to. He pulled her into a sitting position, then gathered her into his arms and hugged her against his chest. Due to the tightness in his throat, he managed to speak only her name, but he said it repeatedly.

“Stop rocking me, Dad,” she whispered. “I may throw up on you.”

He stopped the rocking motion, laughing softly. “I wouldn’t care.”

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