Mean Streak

“I didn’t mean safe for me,” Hayes said, his lips barely moving. “I meant for Jeff. If I see him, I’m liable to kill him.”

At that point Grange rejoined them and reported that a deputy was in place. “He’s got Jeff’s suite and car in plain sight.”

As Connell was pulling on his coat, he said to Hayes, “I’ll call when we’ve got him in custody. What’s your current phone number?”

Hayes hesitated.

Connell rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you leave Rebecca a way to contact you.”

Hayes pulled a cell phone from his pocket, and when the number showed up on the readout, he held it out for Connell to see and commit to memory. “Got it.” Turning to the detectives, he said, “Let’s go get this done, gentlemen.”

Grange opened the door and stood aside for Connell to go first. “You can ride with us.” The three filed out and pulled the door closed. None of them had seemed to notice that Emory hadn’t spoken a word since the mention of Alice.

But Hayes had.

Chapter 39

Looking like trick-or-treaters, Will and Norman arrived at their aunt and uncle’s house just as Lisa was about to leave for school.

“Ma’s sick,” Norman announced. “You gotta come home with us now.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

Bypassing the question, he asked their uncle for the loan of his pickup.

“How did you get here?” the man asked as he reluctantly handed over the keys.

“A friend dropped us.”

“You look awful,” Lisa said. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital for several more days?”

“We’ll be okay. Ma might not.” Norman took her by the arm and roughly propelled her toward the truck parked in the driveway. Will was holding the passenger door for her. “You’re a freak show,” she said.

Glowering with more malevolence than usual, he boosted her in.

Once they were under way, she asked, “What’s wrong with Mother?”

“That’s for us to know and for you to shut up about,” Norman snarled as he wove through traffic. “You been talking way too much, little sister.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you? Let me out of here!” She made a grab for the steering wheel.

Will yanked her back and whacked the side of her head with the heel of his hand, then took a bone-crushing grip on both her wrists, pinning her hands together.

Norman said, “You try something like that again, and you’ll regret it.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just like we said. Home.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with Mother, is there?”

“Besides being old and ugly? No.”

Despite the Frankenstein apparatus, Will managed to snicker at his brother’s joke.

Lisa hated them, loathed them, and feared them. She knew from experience that she couldn’t get free of Will’s grasp until he was ready to release her. He had successfully held her down too many times to give her any hope of breaking away from him now. He was weakened by his injuries, but the feverish light in his eyes warned that he had a lot of fight left in him. And even if she could manage to free her hands, how would she get out of the truck?

Her only hope lay in the man who had promised to come to her aid if she ever needed him. All she had to do was wait until they got home and somehow get to a telephone.