Wolf in the Shadows - Marcia Muller [120]
Mourning mumbled again.
I slid my arm around his slumped shoulders. “Tim,” I said, “it’s going to be okay now.”
He started to raise his head, then let it fall forward.
“Tim, wake up.” I put my hand under his chin, propped it up. “We’re going to take you home.”
More mumbles. Then, “Kill me.”
“Nobody’s going to kill you. You’re safe now.”
“Safe?”
“But you’ve got to help us. Can you walk?”
“Walk?”
“So we can take you home.”
He flinched. Jerked back, sitting up under his own power. “Not home!”
“Ssh!” I glanced at Hy, who was listening at the door now.
“Diane …”
“It’s okay. She can’t hurt you anymore.”
My words made no impression. Mourning shrank back on the mattress. I followed his gaze, saw he was staring at Navarro. “Get her out of here,” I told Hy.
He grabbed her arm, dragged her over by the door. She pulled away and drew back into a corner between a bureau and the wall.
Mourning’s eyes were wide and panicky now. He struggled to rise, gained a shaky footing. I got up fast and draped his arm over my shoulder. “You take her,” I told Hy. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Hy motioned for Navarro to come out of the corner. When she didn’t move, he went over and got her. She struggled and he pinned her arm behind her back. “Don’t give us trouble now,” he muttered. “We’ve got Mourning; you’re expendable.”
Instantly she stopped struggling and went with him.
Holding tight to Navarro’s arm, Hy looked out into the hallway. Signaled to me and slipped through the door.
Mourning leaned heavily on me. I took a small step. He said, “Can’t.”
“Try.”
He took a small step that almost matched mine.
“Good. Another.”
“Dizzy.”
“I’ve got you.”
We navigated the space between the bed and the door.
Hy waited in the hall, still gripping Navarro by the arm. When we came out, he turned and moved toward the room off the patio. Navarro went quietly, all the fight gone out of her.
Mourning supported some of his own weight now. We moved as one, lurching from side to side like a large ungainly animal. Partway to the door he slipped and almost fell. I half carried, half dragged him the rest of the distance.
Through the archway. Past the wet bar. Around the pool table. Hy at the door now, checking outside. Navarro beside him, rubbing her arm.
Mourning saw her and stiffened. He made a growling sound and his feet churned against the tiles, as if he wanted to get at her. She shrank back against the wall.
Three feet to the door. Hy moving to help us. Step … drag … stumble. My heart pounding. Mourning’s breath labored. Step … drag … step … step … Hy reaching out—
Lights flashed on around us.
Mourning stumbled again, pitched forward, his arm slipping off my shoulders. As Hy tried to go for his gun, Mourning reeled into him. They went down. I whirled, trying to get at my .45.
Too late.
Jaime stood inside the archway, a .357 Magnum leveled at us. His thick lips twisted in a grotesque smile. He said, “Whatta buncha payasos.”
Payasos: clowns. Of all words, why the hell did I have to understand that one?
He added, “Stick your guns over there on the bar.”
I glanced at Hy, who was getting up from the floor. He didn’t look so much afraid as sheepish. We went to the bar, set our weapons down. I backed up, watching Jaime, until my buttocks pressed against the edge of the pool table. Hy stood midway between us.
Mourning lay on the floor, moaning. Navarro was still flattened against the wall, eyes wild. She pushed away from it, started toward Jaime, arms held out in a placating gesture.
Smiling, Jaime shot her in the head.
As the bullet smashed into Navarro’s skull, I shut my eyes and whipped my head away so fast that pain shot up my neck. My stomach lurched violently. I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of Hy’s face—slack-jawed, sick. I leaned farther back against the table, hands splayed on the felt. Moved them around until I found a billiard ball.
Jaime was still smiling. He swung his gun toward Hy. “Shouldn’t’ve come back here, asshole.”
I straightened with the