No Time for Goodbye - Linwood Barclay [138]
Standing between them, looking back at us, was Jeremy Sloan. He had something in his right hand.
When he raised it, I could see that it was a gun, and when the windshield of our Honda shattered, I knew that it was loaded.
48
I slammed on the brakes and threw the car into park in one fluid motion, undid my seat belt, opened the door, and dived out. I knew I was leaving Clayton to fend for himself, but at this point, I was thinking only of Cynthia and Grace. In the couple of seconds I’d had to survey the situation, I’d been unable to spot either of them, but the fact that Cyn’s car was still on the precipice and not in the lake seemed to me a hopeful sign.
I hit the ground and rolled into some high grass, then fired wildly into the sky. I wanted Jeremy to know I had a gun, too, even if I had no skill with it. I came to a stop and maneuvered myself around in the grass so that I was looking back at where Jeremy had been, but now he was gone. I looked about frantically, then saw his head poking out timidly from around the front bumper of the brown Impala.
“Jeremy!” I shouted.
“Terry!” Cynthia. Screaming. Her voice was coming from her car. “Daddy!” Grace.
“I’m here!” I shouted.
From inside the Impala, another voice. “Kill him, Jeremy! Shoot him!” Enid, sitting in the front passenger seat.
“Jeremy,” I called out. “Listen to me. Has your mother told you what happened back at your house? Has she told you why you had to leave so fast?”
“Don’t listen to him,” Enid said. “Just shoot him.”
“What are you talking about?” he shouted back at me.
“She shot a man in your house. A man named Vince Fleming. He’ll be in the hospital by now, telling the police everything. He and I went to Youngstown last night. I figured it out. I’ve already called the police. I don’t know how you originally planned this to go. Make Cynthia look like she was going crazy is my guess, make it look like she might even have had something to do with her brother and mother’s deaths, then she comes up here, kills herself. Is that it, more or less?”
I waited for an answer. When none came, I continued, “But the cat’s out of the bag, Jeremy. It’s not going to work anymore.”
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Enid said. “I told you to shoot him. Do what your mother says.”
“Mom,” Jeremy said, “I don’t know…. I’ve never killed any one before.”
“Suck it up! You’re about to kill those two.” I could make out the back of Enid’s head, see her motioning to Cynthia’s car.
“Yeah, but all I have to do is push the car over. This is different.”
Clayton had the passenger door of the Honda open and was slowly getting to his feet. I could see under the car, spotted his shoes, his sockless ankles as he struggled to stand. Granules of windshield glass fell from his trousers to the ground.
“Get back in the car, Dad,” Jeremy said.
“What?” Enid said. “He’s here?” She caught sight of him in the passenger door mirror. “For Christ’s sake!” she said. “You stupid old coot! Who let you out of the hospital?”
Slowly he shuffled his way toward the Impala. When he got to the back of the car, he placed his hands on the trunk, steadied himself, caught his breath. He appeared to be on the verge of collapse. “Don’t do this, Enid,” he wheezed.
Then Cynthia’s voice: “Dad?”
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said. He tried to smile. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all this.”
“Dad?” she said again. Incredulous. I couldn’t see Cynthia’s face from my position, but I could imagine how shocked she must have looked.
Evidently, while Jeremy and Enid had somehow managed to abduct Cynthia and Grace and get them up here above the quarry, they had not bothered to bring them up to speed.
“Son,” Clayton said to Jeremy, “you have to put an end to this. Your mother, she’s wrong to drag you into this, make you do all these bad things. Look at her.” He was telling Jeremy to look at Cynthia. “That’s your sister. Your sister. And that little girl, she’s your niece. If you help your mother do what she wants