The Guilty (Will Robie 4)

“Let’s go!”

“But—”

“Move your ass. Now!”

He dragged Pete out of the room.

“I think my jaw is broken,” screamed Pete.

“I don’t really give a shit,” said Robie.

“Where are we goin’?” yelled Pete.

“Away from the guys with guns and sulfuric acid.”

They reached the back door and Robie kicked it open.

They stepped outside.

“I’m outta here,” cried out Pete.

“No, you’re coming with me.”

“Why!”

“What did those men want with you? Who were they?”

“Leave me the hell alone!”

Pete pushed Robie away, but Robie regained his balance, stuck out his foot, and tripped the other man. Pete tumbled down the steps and landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom.

He stared up at Robie. “I’ll kill you.”

“Right.”

Pete jumped up and sprinted off into the darkness. A few moments later Robie heard the Porsche start up, and it came careening around the side of the house. Pete slammed it into second; the wide wheels gripped the asphalt, and smoke streamed out from behind them as he accelerated to third and was past Robie, who had hurtled down to the bottom of the steps and aimed his weapon.

But he wasn’t going to fire. For all he knew Pete would lose control of his ride and end up slamming into a tree. Hell, he might do that anyway.

Robie holstered his weapon, checked to make sure his other Glock was secure in his waistband, and hustled to his car. He drove off, certain that he had made multiple new enemies tonight. He just didn’t know who they were.

But maybe one of them had killed Sherm Clancy. Which meant his father hadn’t committed the crime and would go free.

He accelerated and zoomed down the road, his wake whipping low-hanging Spanish moss on trees.

Only Robie wasn’t really sure where he was going.

Chapter

31

BY THE TIME he had decided to return to the Willows it was after five in the morning, and the dark sky was just beginning to lighten a bit.

He sat in his car in front of the house, closed his eyes, and did his best to think things through.

The guys at Pete’s house might very well be these casino junkyard dogs he had heard about. They thought Pete knew what his father had known, whatever that was. Pete apparently had sent them some communications that had pissed them off, resulting in the “meeting” tonight.

But Robie had intervened and saved Pete’s life, risking his own by doing so. As a way of thanks, the “pissant” Pete had run off. He might well be in Louisiana by now. Maybe he’d never stop running.

Only the guys Robie had taken out weren’t going to be leaving. If they didn’t know who Robie was, they would soon find out. And he was sure other junkyard dogs would be sent out to finish the job the other three could not.

Which meant Robie was a target now. He stared up at the house. He had promised to protect Victoria and Tyler, yet now he might be simply driving trouble their way.

Robie slipped the flash drive out of his pocket and palmed it, staring down at the little slip of plastic and metal that he hoped contained answers to many of his questions.

He looked back up at the house. But what to do about that?

Did he stay or did he go?

And even if I left here they could find out the connection and come here and hurt or threaten them to get to me.

He pocketed the flash, got out of the car, and slipped inside the house from the rear, scurrying up the column to the second-floor verandah and from there into his room.

He grabbed a quick hour’s worth of sleep and then showered, letting the cold water fully wake him up. He had blood on his clothes from his fight. None of it was his, only the other guys’.

He washed off the blood as best he could and stuck the dirty clothes in the bottom of his duffel.

It was nearly seven a.m. now.

He called Blue Man and told him what had happened. Understandably, Blue Man was not happy.

“Things seem to be spiraling out of control, Robie. I want you to come back. Now.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I am ordering you to return to DC.”

“I’m on leave. I don’t think you can order me to do anything.”

“This is far more complicated than you think, Robie. If the Director gets any inkling about this…”

“Evan Tucker already hates my guts. I don’t think this could make matters that much worse.”

“You would be very wrong about that.”

“I appreciate the advice. But if you want me back in the field one day with the ability to actually pull the trigger, then I have to see this through.”

He clicked off and threw the phone down. He hadn’t asked about Jessica Reel’s status, because he figured the answer would be the same.

Still out. And now, he didn’t want her around him. After last night things had gone to a whole new level, and Robie had no idea how things would turn out. But if the world fell on his head on this little strip of the Gulf Coast, he wanted it to be his head only. Not hers, too. She didn’t deserve to be buried under his personal troubles.

He ate breakfast with Victoria and Tyler. The little boy snatched glances at Robie while he was eating.

Victoria seemed subdued, her mind far away.

As they were finishing up she said, “Did I hear you come in early this morning?”

“Not me. I slept like a baby.”

She nodded. “Maybe it was the man you saw coming back.”

“Maybe it was,” said Robie. “I’ll have a look around before I leave.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see my father. Are you going to see him today?”

“I see him every day. And I’m going to take Ty with me this time.”

Robie glanced over at the little boy. “I think that would do them both some good.”

She lowered her voice. “You think so? Seeing his father locked in a cage?”

“He doesn’t have to know that’s what it is. It could be just a visit.”

Victoria looked away, clearly frustrated.

“Keep your phone nearby. Anything comes up, call me.”

She glanced up at him as he rose. “Why would something come up?”

“You just never know.”

Priscilla followed him out of the house.

“Where were you last night? ’Cause I saw you climbin’ up to the second floor of this here house at five this mornin’.”