Page 120 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

One was that Newton Dwayne crashed in through the doorway near the back of the room, wielding his gun. “Did you find them—Jesus, Gannett, get your shit together!”

And as Gannett Hoover’s soft moan of total surrender sputtered across the room, Ellery heard the faint roar of ATV engines.

For better or worse, Ellery needed to make his position strong.

While Dwayne was still gesturing with the gun like a rank amateur, Ellery crouched behind the monstrosity of the desk and—after making sure his mother had ghosted up the stairs already—fired a little to the right of his target.

Dwayne whirled, aiming desperately, and Ellery realized that the light was on his side.

The far end of the room had two open doors into what was a wide, well-lit space, so that end of the room had natural light, but not enough to blind.

Ellery, on the other hand, was in a pit of darkness, his mother hidden by shadows up the staircase, he himself nearly invisible behind the computer and stacks of paperwork on the desk itself.

“Gannett, thehell—”

Gannett had slid out of the chair and was curled up in a corner of the room, his hands over his eyes. “Schmitty, don’t…,” he whimpered. “Please… no more….”

“Who’s got the gun?” Dwayne demanded, and Ellery stayed low as Dwayne approached, caution in every movement. He wasn’t great with guns, Ellery noted with detachment. He hadn’t had lessons. He had no stance, no squared spine, no sturdy triangle between his arms and his chest. He held it up in one hand, his wrist shaking, as he scanned the room frantically for other hazards besides his unknown assailant crouched behind the desk.

And still the sound of ATVs got louder.

“I told those punks to shut off the engines,” Dwayne muttered. “Gannett, get out here. Did you just shoot at me?”

“No no no no no no no…,” Hoover was chanting, and upstairs, on what sounded like the second floor, Ellery heard the sound of shrieking and thumping, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

Hismomwas up there!

But he couldn’t peek over his shoulder, the risk was too great, and he kept shifting his crouch as Dwayne swung wide, hugging the sides of the living room, his back now toward the great coat closet that was probably used for guests.

Ellery’s vision sharpened, and he steadied his aim, ready to shoot at this horrible person and then defend that action in a court of law, when the closet door exploded open, and before Newton Dwayne could even squawk in surprise, Galen brought his cane down on the back of Dwayne’s head.

The roaring of the ATVs grew louder, and there was a crash of glass from the ballroom as the things rumbled in like an exhaust-belching hurricane, and over the din, Ellery heard Jackson’s voice—Jackson’s?—shouting his name.

And in a spill of Chanel jackets, sensible pumps, pearls, and hose,twowomen tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom, in front of Gannett Hoover, who was still mewling like a kitten. Galen’s assault of Dwayne with the cane came to an abrupt end as Dwayne grabbed it and upended Galen, who crashed to the ground with an angry snarl, and Taylor Cramer scrambled to straddle a woman who must have been Valerie Trainor from behind and, using the woman’s knotted hair as a handle, slam her forehead into the hardwood floor on the edge of the stained carpet.

Repeatedly.

“Ellery!” Jackson cried, and as Ellery heard his feet thundering down the hallway and into the sitting room, he saw that Dwayne had turned toward this new assailant with his gun, however inexpertly held, aimed at the lighted end of the doorway.

“Jackson, he’s got a gun!” Ellery screamed, and as Jackson burst through the same door Dwayne had charged through, another shot rang through the house, this one from Newton Dwayne’s weapon.

“Ouch,fuck!” Jackson snarled, and his momentum through the house was derailed as his body wrenched sideways.

Oh fuck. He’d been hit! He was still running, but Newton Dwayne’s entire attention was turned toward Jackson and Cody as he tried to fix his aim to take another shot.

Ellery was done with shooting.

With a rush at Dwayne’s back, he used the heavy Berretta in his hand to clock Newton Dwayne on the back of the head, and their opponent went down in a bruised, concussed pile of debris.

“We’re right here!” Ellery yelled, dodging the body as it crumpled. “Jackson, get your ass over here!Somebodyneeds to go fetch thegoddamned FBI!”

Galen had regained his footing and was beating the shit out of Newton Dwayne with his cane again, and Jackson, probably following his voice, sprinted through the great sitting room to Ellery’s side and took in the situation.

“Galen, stop,” Jackson said automatically. “If you kill him, you might get disbarred.”

“Fucker,” Galen muttered, but he staggered a little, the move forcing him to put his weight on the cane, and Ellery figured he’d about exhausted his strength.

“Cody,” Jackson called, “could you zip-tie that guy?”

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