The Guilty (Will Robie 4)

Robie pushed the door open and looked around.

It was set up as a study, with a desk, bookshelves, and comfortable chairs.

“Dad!” cried out Robie.

His father was lying on the floor next to his desk. His head had a bloody gash in the back and Dan Robie was struggling to get up.

Robie and Reel rushed over to him.

“Dad, just stay where you are. What happened?”

“Some…somebody hit me. From behind.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“N-no. Just m-my head.”

“Did you see who hit you?”

His father shook his head and then slumped back down.

Reel was already calling 911. She ordered an ambulance and then phoned the police.

“They’re on their way,” she said.

Robie was holding his father’s head.

“Get me a wet towel.”

Reel ran out to do this.

Robie said, “Just take it easy, Dad. You’re going to be okay.”

“Vic-Victoria. T-Ty?”

“It’s okay, just keep still. The ambulance is on its way.”

While Robie was waiting for Reel he glanced around the office looking for any clues that might lead them to whoever had done this.

One shelf was devoted to sports memorabilia. As he saw this, he gaped.

When Reel came back in with the wet towel, Robie had her apply it to his father’s head wound, then he bolted out of the room and down the stairs.

He hurtled onto the front porch, hung a left, and rushed around to the rear of the house. He reached the garage and went inside.

The Volvo was gone.

The Range Rover was there.

Robie raced over to it and stared for a moment at the New Orleans sticker on the back of the SUV. He used his knife to peel it off.

Underneath was what he thought he’d find.

A bullet hole.

The bullet hole caused by my gun when I fired it at the vehicle driving away from Sara Chisum’s murder.

The bullet hole in the Range Rover in Sherman Clancy’s garage had been created later. So it would be found and concluded that that vehicle was involved and not this one.

The ambulance arrived at the same time the police did. Taggert had phoned and let Robie know that she and Sheriff Monda were on their way. A BOLO had been put out on the Volvo and Victoria and Tyler Robie.

Robie led Reel back to the garage and showed her the bullet hole.

“How’d you find that?” she asked.

“The shelf full of Dallas Cowboy memorabilia in my dad’s study. Why would a Cowboys fan have a Saints sticker?”

“But who put it there?”

“Whoever shot Sara Chisum. The same person who took Victoria and Ty.”

“But why the hell kill Priscilla?”

“I don’t know.”

They raced back around to the front of the house.

“Where do you think they’ve taken Victoria and Ty?” asked Reel.

“I don’t know.”

“Why even kidnap them?’

“I don’t know, okay?” barked Robie.

“Okay,” said Reel calmly. “Okay. It could be Henry Barksdale.”

“Why would he come here and do this?”

“It’s his old homestead. If he’s crazy enough to kill all these people, then he might have come here and attacked your father, killed Priscilla, and then taken Victoria and Ty. Maybe he saw them as interlopers.”

“If it was Barksdale he could be anywhere,” noted Robie.

“Not anywhere. Like you said, Priscilla’s body was still warm. This did not happen that long ago. He couldn’t have gone far.”

Robie’s expression cleared and he said, “Maybe he went to—”

At that moment his father came out on a gurney and Robie and Reel helped load his father into the ambulance.

“How is he?” Robie asked one of the paramedics.

“Concussion and a nasty gash, but he seems okay otherwise. Vitals are strong. He’s a tough guy.”

Robie said, “Give me a minute.” He climbed up into the ambulance and sat next to his father.

“You’re going to be okay,” said Robie. “Lucky they hit you in the head. It’s unbreakable.”

His father stared at him grimly. “Where are they? They told me Victoria and Tyler are missin’.”

“We don’t know. We believe Henry Barksdale is behind this.”

“Barksdale! Why the hell would he take Victoria and my son, damn it?”

Robie put a calming hand on the older man’s shoulder. “We’ll find them. I have an idea of where they might have gone. Somewhere on the old Clancy farm. And Dad, whoever killed Sara Chisum was driving your Range Rover.”

“What?”

Robie explained about the New Orleans Saints sticker covering the bullet hole.

His father had partly risen in his anxiety. Then he slowly lowered himself back down.

“You okay?” asked Robie anxiously.

“I’m…I’m just very tired.” He gripped his son’s hand. “Please find them.”

“I will, Dad. I promise. I will.”

Robie climbed out of the ambulance, the paramedics closed the doors, and the vehicle drove off. Then he sprinted toward the car with Reel right behind him.

“Where are we going?” she called out.

“To where all this really started.”

* * *

It took them nearly an hour to get there. They drove as close as they could to the old shack on Sherman Clancy’s farm, then continued on foot from there.

There was little moonlight, and twice they stumbled as they made their way quickly over the uneven ground.

Even at this late hour the air was so humid that Robie’s clothes were plastered to him. They heard rustlings and the occasional rattle from the woods, but trudged on.

They slowed as they drew closer to the old wooden structure. It was dark. They could hear nothing from inside. They circled the building and then came back around to the front.

Then they pulled their weapons and approached the door slowly.

“I didn’t see the Volvo anywhere,” whispered Reel.

Robie nodded, his gaze tight on the shack. In his mind he imagined little kids trooping in there, no doubt believing they would be fed and looked after only to have something else, something horrible, happen to them.

They reached the small porch. The wood creaked under their feet.

Robie’s hand tightened on his gun. He slipped off the sling so he could make use of his other arm.

Reel flitted over to the other side of the door. She leaned against the wall and looked at him. In barely a whisper she said, “No back door. This is the only way in or out.”

He nodded, pointed at Reel, held up three fingers, and then slowly dropped them one at a time.

When the last finger went down, Reel kicked open the door and sprang inside.

Robie was right behind her. They started to do their sweeps and then stopped.

In the middle of the room was Tyler, sitting in a chair.

Robie froze for an instant when he saw the little boy. In his mind flashed the child he’d seen reaching for his father. It just came from nowhere, like the thrust of a knife into his belly.