Then, suddenly as it started, the rain stopped, but it wasn’t quiet. The collies were both howling now. And they were close, only a few feet away. The dogs hadn’t attacked them before, but they might now. Maggie and Gay were at the back corner of Greenthumb’s yard, the collies at the back corner of theirs. The only thing between the dogs and them was the fence. Maggie wondered if they could jump it.
She moved back to where Gay was, put her mouth to her friend’s ear. “Get down, in case he shoots into the dark.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“He might,” Maggie said.
Gay crouched on her hands and knees.
Maggie moved against the back of the garage, willed herself to be invisible, hoping Ponytail would be as blind, staring into the tunnel behind the garage, as she’d been. She raised the rake above her head. She had to choke up about halfway on the handle or the rake would hit the tin roof.
But he didn’t come. Maybe the dogs were drowning out the sound of the rake scraping against the garage. She scratched it against the wall again, a little harder.
And then he was there, at the entrance to the tunnel, looking in. He stood, legs together, relaxed, arms at his side, gun still in his right hand. In her mind, Maggie knew he couldn’t see through the dark, but the way he seemed to be looking right at her chilled her more than the cold night or wet rain ever could.
“Come on,” she mouthed. For an instant, she thought she’d said it aloud, but it was only her lips moving in the dark. “Come on in, just a little.”
He took a tentative step forward, then stopped, as if waiting for his eyes to get used to the dark. Could they do that? Maggie wondered. Maybe they could. After all, she could see him. But that was because what little light there was from the night was behind him.
“Come on,” she mouthed again.
And as if he’d heard, he took another step forward, arms still at his side, gun still pointed toward the dirt. But he stopped again, turned his head to the side, cocking it like a frightened deer listening for the wolf.
Maggie held her breath, tightened her grip on the rake. “Come on, get closer. Just a couple more steps.” Sweat trickled her face, caught on her lip. She licked it away.
And Ponytail took another cautious step into the dark. He stopped again, brought the gun up, pointed it ahead of himself, moved it back and forth. If Maggie wasn’t afraid to breathe, she’d have sighed. He couldn’t see. But he knew they were back there. Felt it. He was a hunter.
But he wasn’t a very good one, Maggie thought, because he pointed the gun toward the back of the tunnel. If he fired, the round would go well over Gay’s head and it wouldn’t even be close to Maggie.
“Come on,” she silently said. “One more step.”
And he took it. Gun hand in front of himself, finger on the trigger.
Maggie brought the rake down with everything she had, hitting him square on the head. He slumped to the ground without a sound. The gun went flying and, for a second, Maggie thought it might go off, but it didn’t.
“Shit,” Gay said as the smell of human excrement filled the enclosed space.
“Exactly,” Maggie whispered. Ponytail’s bowels had cut loose. The body jerked for a few seconds, then stopped. Maggie crouched, felt for a carotid, sought a pulse, found nothing. “He’s dead.”
“We gotta go,” Gay said.
“Just a second.” Maggie ran her hands around the ground, found Ponytail’s gun. It was a revolver. She shoved it between pants and back as she got up. “Okay, let’s get the F out of here.”
She stepped over the body.
Another siren ripped up the night.
“The streets must be crawling with cops,” Gay said.
“We’ll go over the fences till we get to the end of the block where we left Jonas’ car. There can’t be that many more.”
“Okay.” Gay gave Maggie’s arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about him. You did good here. Better than I could’ve. Now, let’s move.”
Maggie sprinted across the yard, Gay on her heels, the collies howling in the background. When she reached the fence, she climbed over, then she was up and running to still another, then another, then another.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Miserable is how I feel.” Horace closed the door after himself, stepped into Sadie’s small apartment. “Rain’s coming down like it was the Everglades.”
“You gonna leave the car in front? I like it in back, it’s not such a good neighborhood.” Sadie toked on a joint, held it out to Horace.
“I don’t do that stuff.” Horace waved it away. He wanted to take off his wet jacket, stay awhile, but he still had work to do.
“Might make you feel better.”
“I gotta go back out. I just wanted to check, make sure you were alright.”
“I’m okay, babe. Why wouldn’t I be?” She took another hit. It bothered Horace. He didn’t hold with drugs. He’d have to talk to her about that, but not now. Not tonight.
“I didn’t want you worrying about the car, so I brought it back. I can use the van for the rest of what I gotta do.”
“You sure you have ta go?” She draped arms over his shoulders, pulled him in for a languid kiss.
“I got someone in the car. He’s the impatient type, Japanese. I’ll take care of business and get back quick as I can.”
“You do that.” She reached between his legs, grabbed his crotch and squeezed. Pleasure rippled through him. “Sure you don’t want a toke?”
“What the hell.” He took the joint, sucked in deep. It had been years, but he still knew how. He took a second toke as she lowered herself to her knees and pulled down his zipper and a third as she took him into her mouth. He held the joint in one hand, with the other on her head for balance. He sucked in deep, held his breath and let go, shaking on quivering legs as she swallowed.
“That’s a reminder, so you come back quick.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. The look in her eyes told of a thousand more delights.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” He zipped up, glad he’d insisted on taking his car and not the Jap’s. And doubly glad he’d made the asshole wait outside while he came inside to swap keys. The fucker didn’t want to come by Sadie’s. He wanted to go straight to the Shore and get the faggot, but Horace had put his foot down. He’d wanted his van. It was souped up and built for speed. Besides, you had to show his kind who was boss or you never got any respect.
“I parked your van ’round back. You can drive mine around and park next to it.” Sadie was still on her knees, hadn’t bothered to get up.
“Thanks, Sadie,” Horace said, then he was out the door.
Maggie came over the fence after Gay to the sound of automatic gunfire drowning out the yapping dogs four yards back. Whoever lived in this house-the corner house and the last yard the women had to cross-was playing some kind of war movie through a mega sound system with the volume cranked up loud.
Gay put her mouth to Maggie’s ear. “Only one more fence.”
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Maggie sprinted across the yard, attacked the side fence, pulled herself over it as if she’d been doing it all her life.
A wet wind blew her hair as she hit the grass. It was going to rain again. She sighed when she saw Jonas’ red Volkswagen parked across the street where they’d left it.
Gay came over, squatted on the ground next to her, huffing like she was out of breath.
“You okay?” Maggie was breathing hard herself, but the adrenaline sparking through her made her high. Even her arm didn’t hurt any more.
“Yeah.” The rain came down, sheeting cold. “We’re safe now.”
“No we’re not. Nighthyde and that Scarface character are on their way to Jonas’. They’re going to kill the girls, Jonas and Gordon, too. Then Scarface is gonna shoot Nighthyde in the head and make it look like suicide.”
“How do you know this?” Gay sounded stunned.
“It’s what they were talking about when they didn’t think I understood them.” Maggie shivered.