“Looks like you found yourself some sugar sand,” the driver said.
“Can you help us out of it?” John said.
The driver shook his head. “That stuff’s like soup now. Maybe after the water settles out a bit.”
Desperate, John was about to ask him for a lift when he heard a door slam and saw another set of lights behind the truck. Someone holding a newspaper over his head was sloshing their way.
Good Lord—Gerry Canney, the FBI agent.
“Come on!” Canney yelled to him as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Get in our car!” He turned to the driver of the pickup. “They’re with us.” The driver nodded and rolled up his window.
John didn’t even bother checking with Decker. He jumped out and followed Canney. Seconds later a dripping Decker joined him in the back seat of the FBI man’s sedan.
As the pickup pulled away, Canney introduced the driver as Special Agent Geary. He waved over his shoulder and began following the pickup. “How come you’re not stuck?” Decker asked, wiping the rain from his face.
Canney shrugged. “Front-wheel drive, I guess. Look. Those guys in the pickup are two of Poppy Mulliner’s uncles. They’re taking us to her.” John levered forward and gripped Canney’s shoulder.
“They’ve seen her? Is Katie—?”
“Katie’s fine. She and Poppy are hiding out with some deep-woods relatives of the Mulliners.”
“And that’s where they’re taking us?”
When Canney nodded, John wanted to hug him. “Thank God!” Almost over, he thought. A few more minutes and Katie will be safe.
“They wanted to make a deal,” Canney said. “If Poppy gave herself up, could we do anything for her? I said, Hell, yes. I even offered witness protection if she turned state’s evidence. How’s that sit with you, Bob?”
“I’ve no problem with that,” Decker said. “She’s an angel compared to some of the other people who’ve been offered that deal.”
John felt a nudge from Decker. “How about you, Doc? Will you squawk if we make a deal with Ms. Mulliner?”
“Absolutely not,” John said, meaning it. “I have a feeling she’s the only reason my little girl is still alive. Give me back my Katie and Poppy can walk, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Good,” Canney said, then turned to Decker again. “And you know that leak we were discussing?”
Now Decker was leaning forward. “What about him?”
“Plugged. With four 9mm hollow points.”
Decker grimaced and lowered his head. “Where?”
“On the sidewalk near his office—making another telephone call. And another thing: I don’t know if there’s a direct connection, but an explosion on M Street this afternoon reduced a restaurant to dust. The owner, a very well-connected Colombian named Carlos Salinas, was inside.”
Decker nodded. “They’re covering their tracks, erasing all the links. We’re not going to be able to pin this conspiracy on anyone.”
A few hours ago, John would have been intensely interested in the identity of the “leak” and the names of the people behind Katie’s abduction. Now he didn’t care. Just get me to Katie, he thought, wishing the car could fly.
19
Just when Poppy thought the storm couldn’t get any worse, it did. The thunder was so loud, she was sure the house would get knocked flat by the sound waves.
So when the door smashed open, letting the wind and rain howl into the tiny room, she thought it was just the storm. But then the lightning flashed and she saw somebody standing in the doorway. At first she thought it was the Frankenstein monster—with an eye patch. But then he smiled and she recognized him.
She screamed as Mac stepped into the room.
“Hello, Pop—” But he never finished. Lester was suddenly in his face.
“Here! Who the hell do you think—?” Mac’s hand darted up and Poppy saw the pistol clutched in his fist. Lester grabbed at it and the gun went off, sounding like an explosion. A stream of water gushed through a new hole in the ceiling.
Poppy huddled with Katie, who wailed in terror as they watched the two men struggle for the gun. Lester was holding his own but Poppy wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. She looked around for something to hit Mac with and spotted Lester’s applejack jug against the wall.
As she began to crawl toward it, another shot blasted through the room. She felt this one whiz past—right between her head and Katie’s. Katie huddled on the floor, eyes closed, hands over her ears, screaming.
Without hesitation, she picked her up and ran for the open door. She had to get Katie outside—the next shot could hit either of them—then she’d come back to help out Lester.
She’d carried Katie maybe twenty feet through the almost night of the rain when she heard a third shot behind her, followed by a cry of pain.
Poppy rounded the corner of the house, then stopped and peeked back, hoping, praying that Lester would appear in the lit doorway. It took a long time, but finally someone stepped through and looked around.
Mac.
With a small cry, she spun and dashed for the brush at the rear of the house. He hadn’t seen her—or had he? Maybe he’d go the other way.
Still carrying Katie, she crashed through the bushes for a good dozen or so feet, then turned and crouched behind a tree, panting. She and Katie were soaked through to the skin. No shelter from this rain—the wind seemed to be driving it at them from all directions. Katie shivered against Poppy and began to cry.
“I want to go home! I want my Daddy!”
“Hush, honey bunch,” she whispered frantically, placing her hand gently over Katie’s mouth. “If that man hears you, he’ll find us.” She rocked Katie, trying to soothe her. With the dark and the rain and the thunder, maybe they could survive here until the rest of the Appletons returned from their stills—if they kept quiet.
Katie seemed to be calming down until a bolt of lightning sizzled into a tree not a dozen feet to their left, and the simultaneous thunder clap knocked them flat. Katie wailed in terror then, long and loud, lasting well after the thunder had faded, and Poppy knew Mac had heard it. How could he not have?
They had to move, but she couldn’t cover any ground carrying Katie. She’d have to go without her.
“Katie,” she said, peeling the dripping child off her, “I’m going for help. You stay here and keep quiet and I’ll be right back.” I hope.
Katie wailed again and grabbed for her. “No! Don’t leave me!”
“I got to, honey bunch,” she said, fending her off. “It’s the only way. Just sit tight and don’t make a sound.” Poppy gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and resisted the impulse to hug her—she might never get free. Then she turned and slipped away.
She felt like such a creep, leaving her there cold, wet, crying, and scared half to death. But this was their only chance. At least Katie was alive.
Her regrets faded into fear as she bent into a crouch and began running through the bushes, making as much noise as she could.
“Help!” she shouted as she ran. “Help! Murder! Somebody! Help!” But how much noise was too much? She wanted to draw Mac off, but she sure as hell didn’t want him to find her.
She could make out the Appleton house to her right. Some of the windows—and there weren’t all that many of them to begin with—were lit, but mostly it looked dark and empty. She thought she saw movement around the side but couldn’t be sure. Were all the women and kids hiding? Afraid of the storm or afraid of the shots? Where was Levon now when she needed him? He looked like he could break Mac in half with one hand.