Page 96 of Ink's Devil

I’ve no choice but to do what he instructs. Dirt must have slipped away unseen, as when I grab hold of Mom’s hand—whether to give comfort or receive it, I’m not entirely sure—and slowly descend the stairs, the man makes no comment about anyone else being in the house.

“Where is it?” the man almost screams when we reach the bottom step. “Where’s the fuckin’ smack? Connor said it was here.”

“What are you doing in my house?” Mom sounds scared, and I don’t blame her. I’m shaking too. “I have no idea what you think I’ve got. Please leave.”

“I’ve called the cops,” I warn him. “They’re on their way.”

His eyes widen. “You stupid bitch. So you better talk fast. Where is the stash? Where did Connor put it?”

“Stash?”

“He’s talking about drugs, Mom. But why the hell he’s asking us, I don’t know.” I open my palms and gesture that I have no idea what he’s talking about, noticing my hands are trembling.

“There are no drugs here,” Mom states shakily and truthfully. “Please get out of my house.”

The man steps closer, he looks from me to my mom, then for some reason, homes in on me. He takes another pace which puts him in front, his head only just above the level of my shoulders. As he looks up into my face, I recognise this particular sneer. He doesn’t like feeling at a disadvantage. I’ve seen his reaction often, like many short men, he doesn’t like women being taller than him.

“Give me what I want, or I’ll kill this one.” He raises a gun and points it at me.

“No,” Mom screams. “No. And I can’t give you what I don’t have. This is all a mistake!”

I look at the barrel of the gun, wondering if this is the last thing I’m going to see, wondering whether the police will get here in time. As I stare death in the face, the thoughts which hurt most are that I’ll never have a chance to see Ink and explain, will never be able to tell him how much he means to me, that I understand why he hates me or how I’d give everything to be in jail and him walking free. Those are the regrets I’ll take to my grave.

Time seems to stand still.

“You’ve got one more minute, then this one here takes her last breath.”

“I can’t tell you as I don’t know,” Mom cries out. She starts to move toward me.

“Stay back!” I swear he’s frothing at the mouth as momentarily the gun points at her before swinging back to me.

“Leave us alone, please.” Finding my voice, I begin to beg. The thought of Mom being killed worse than if it was me.

Suddenly another man runs through the smashed front door. “Cops are on their way.” He looks panicked. “Just heard this address on the radio. Have you got the shit we came for? We’ve got to go,now.”

The cheeks of the man standing close blaze bright red. His jaw tightens. Maybe my senses are all on high alert as adrenaline floods through me, but I read his intention almost before he decides what he’s going to do. No drugs. He’s failed. And that threat he’d made? Well, he’s going to follow it through. But before his finger has a chance to even twitch on the trigger, my arm shoots out and chops down on his with all my strength behind it.

Not expecting a woman to fight back, he’s not got a tight grasp on it and his gun flies out of his hands.

Mom might be aging, but she’s not old. She is, however, fast, with all her faculties intact. She’s quick to make a dive for it with a rather impressive improvised roll and has it in her hand and pointed in his direction.

“Get out of my house!” she roars like a lioness protecting her cub. “And don’t come back. We don’t have what you’re after. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Arch,” the man standing by the door calls out, his voice shrill with fright, “we don’t have time. I’m going with or without you.”

To my utmost relief, Arch, proving he’s not deaf and hearing the gradually loudening sirens, doesn’t argue with his companion and they disappear the same way they came in. Moments later I hear a squeal of brakes. Only seconds after that, another vehicle draws up, and now it’s state troopers in uniform entering the house.

Neither Mom nor I mention they were looking for drugs as I don’t want to give the cops more ammunition to use against me. Instead, we say they’d broken in, and we’re in the dark as to the reason.

They bag the gun, complimenting me for disarming the intruder, but don’t take the death threat seriously. Then they go through the motions which don’t take long, the broken door is the only sign the men had been here. Even though I was almost killed, they write it down as a failed home invasion where nothing was actually stolen.

After being given unnecessary advice about calling someone out to fix the door, Mom, driven by fear of the men returning, snaps, “They held us at gunpoint. What if they come back? Aren’t you going to do anything?”

One of the cops shifts awkwardly. “Look, ma’am, it’s very unlikely they’ll come back. Just keep your phones with you and call us immediately if you hear or see anything suspicious. They’ve probably moved on to another house. I doubt you’ve got much to worry about.” He glances around the room which is pleasant enough but doesn’t scream money. “We can get a patrol car to cruise past when they’re in the area.”That’s supposed to be comforting?“There’s been a spate of home invasions recently, looks like you’ve just been unfortunate. Ma’am,” he addresses her directly again, “you said they wore gloves, so there’re no fingerprints unless we find any on the gun. You can come to the station and look through our mug shots, see if you recognise them, but unless you can point them out, there’s nothing for us to go on.”

If it really had been a home invasion I’d have been annoyed, but as it is, I’m just glad to see the back of them when they leave.

As soon as the troopers pull away, Dirt appears.

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