Page 64 of Midnight Ride

The old guy didn’t smile. “You watch out for Franko, Sheriff.He’s a match for any man and he has no fear.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

Sheriff’s Office. Coyote Creek. Montana.

Molly took a call from Wyatt Thompson, and he wanted to talk to Travis about a story. “I’m sorry, Wyatt, but Travis is out of town on a case. Can Billy help you?”

“Maybe he can. Thank you, Molly.”

Molly put the call through to Billy in his office.

“Hey, Wyatt,” said Billy. “Travis isn’t here but I can meet you at noon and give you an update if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Anything I can use for a follow-up story on the four murders, Billy. Appreciate it.”

“I’ll meet you at the diner at twelve.”

Billy hung up the phone wondering how he could be in six places at once. There was no time for Wyatt Thompson today. Finding Earl Clarkson was more important, but Billings was a five-hour drive and with Travis and the boys away, Billy couldn’t go.

He did the next best thing.

He called the Billings Chief of Police and told him what he needed. The Chief seemed helpful and guaranteed Billy that a unit would be dispatched to Earl Clarkson’s address to make the arrest within the hour.

Billy blew out a breath. “Okay. That’s covered.”

Taber. Alberta. Canada.

I worked all night getting my hands free from the plastic ties. My hands were small and when I clenched my fist, I could almost get the left one through the loop.

Lying on the cot naked in the dark, I tried for hours and could feel the plastic tearing my skin, but I couldn’t give up. I had to get away from Franko or he would keep me as his prisoner for years, just like his brother had.

Finally, I got one hand free, and one hand helped the other. Once my hands were free, I relaxed a tiny bit, and it didn’t take me long to untie my ankles.

As soon as I could feel my feet again and was able to stand up, I silently left the narrow bed Franko had tossed me onto. I put my clothes on and tip-toed to the kitchen.

No knives on the counter. These guys didn’t cook. I eased open the kitchen drawers one at a time and found a jackknife that was no good to me. Too small. Nothing else but a loaded gun on the coffee table.

My own gun.

I searched the kitchen and living room for my phone, but it was gone. Franko probably threw it out the truck window right after they grabbed me. That’s when he snatched it out of my hand.

No way to call Travis or Harlan or anybody.

My gun felt good in my hand as I walked back to the bedroom the boys were sleeping in. Franko was snoring with his buddy Ray sprawled beside him.

Ray was closest, so I killed him first. Using a pillow to keep the noise down, I popped a cap into the side of his head, and it hardly made any sound at all.

Just enough to wake Franko up. He jumped up and hurled his naked body at me and I had no choice but to pull the trigger.

Bang.

The bullet went into his nutsack, and he howled and rolled as he hit the floor. Putting one in his head would be too fuckin merciful after what he and Ray had done to me, so I left him on the floor to bleed out, and I ran.

I should’ve taken their keys and stolen one of their trucks, but the cops could’ve tracked me down too easy that way. I wasn’t a Canadian cop, and they might not see me killing those boys as self-defense.

No choice but to run to the highway and try to get a ride.

No way I can go home.

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