“Cover me,” Baby said. “I’m going to see if I can find some water and buckets nearby.”
I put the lantern over in one corner near the girls, told them it was going to be okay, and then took up position just outside the door with the shotgun. Baby slipped out, gun in hand, and went left, in between our shed and the next one. The fog lay over the grounds like a wet white veil, quiet as a coiled snake. The dogs on the hill had stopped their racket, and mine were plastered to my legs. I stood out there for five minutes, listening. I should have sent them with Baby, I thought, although they might have taken off after sounds in the fog.
Sounds in the fog. There was something out there.
I slipped back into the barn and closed the doors down to gunport width. Then I realized Baby might return in a hurry and opened one about a foot. Frack bristled at the foggy darkness, and I told him to stay. I went down on one knee to lower my profile. Tendrils of fog probed the doorway and chilled my ankles. Where the hell was Baby? I heard more snuffling behind the tunnel door, and one of the girls began to whimper again.
Suddenly, out front, an orange glow flared in the fog. Then a second one, then two more. Two were close together, the rest spread out. They were far enough away that all I could see was the flickering light, but it was obvious I was looking at torches. Lots of torches. Then a disembodied voice spoke out of the fog.
“Lawman!” the voice called. “You in there.” It was Grinny’s voice.
I said nothing, but got down flat on the ground with the shotgun pointed out front.
“ You in there, speak up, damn yer eyes,” she said. Even her voice was hateful. There were some old shingles on the floor by the door. I picked one up, slanted it across my mouth so that my voice would be pitched to the right, and answered her.
“I don’t talk to women who murder children,” I called back.
“Shet yer mouth with that talk,” she called back. “You’s the one gonna die tonight.”
I wondered if perhaps Baby was out there, doing some kind of a flanking movement. If he could surprise them from the side, I could release the dogs and attack them in the face. Had to keep her talking so I’d be able to locate them. The torches made it harder, not easier, to pinpoint where they were.
“We’ve got Nathan hanging by a hook at the glass hole,” I called back. “Talking to some federal friends right now. Then they’re coming here.”
“Maybe not, sport,” Baby said. “Look behind you. In the corner, by the kids. I think your little love note came with you.”
I blinked. What? His voice had come from the same direction as Grinny’s. A cold, sinking feeling filled my stomach as I realized where he’d gone.
I looked. My note to Carrie was on the floor. They might yet come, but not because they knew I was here.
“That you, Special Agent?” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “You’re in this kid-killing thing with that monster?”
“Consider it culling, not killing,” he said from somewhere out there in the fog. “You saw them: Most of’em aren’t going to make it past puberty anyway.”
“Especially if you and mother-of-the-year out there are selling their innards.”
“Hey?” he said, almost pleasantly. “We need to stop wasting time here. You and the demon spawn in there are history anyway. Or here’s a deal-you get to walk away, take your chances with the black hats in the fog. You do that and I’ll make sure those kids go to the county.”
“Under their own power or in plastic bags?”
“They don’t know anything, sport,” he said. “We don’t need them dead-just out of here.”
“Oh, right, Special Agent,” I said. “I have your word as a murderer on that, do I?”
He didn’t answer that. Now I knew why the DEA team had never succeeded in getting at the Creigh operation, and how Grinny had known what we were up to with such precision. Son of a bitchl
I tried to see through the fog to locate them, but they were still just voices in the mist, framed by flickering torchlight. She must have her whole damned crew out there, I thought. Minus the two trolls up at the glass hole.
“So how come you didn’t pop me when you had the chance, Special Agent?” I called. “Up there on the mountain tonight?”
“‘Cause yer mine, you son of a bitch,” Grinny shouted back. “I ain’t afeared’a no law. We buy and sell law up here. I want your hide for Rowena. Fair’s fair.”
“So that’s the deal, Baby?” I called. “You were just taking orders?”
Greenberg didn’t answer, and I noticed that the nebulous points of light out there in the fog seemed to be separating. I slid back into the barn, pulled the lantern over, and cranked the wick down to its lowest position.
“Well, shit, what’s it goin’ to be, lawman?” Grinny called. “Feelin’ a mite skeered, are ye? Ain’t like it was out on the road, is it, when you kilt my sweet baby Rue.”
“Your sweet baby Rue shot at me and lost,” I said, desperately trying to think of what to do.
“Cut her down, clear’n simple,” she replied. “Blowed her head clean off. You gonna burn for that. You’n ’em gully rats in ‘ere.”
As if to confirm that observation, a bolus of orange light rose into the fog and then came down in my direction as someone threw a torch at the shed. It landed on the tin roof with a clatter, then rolled off and landed in some grass. The fog had dampened the grass, but it wouldn’t stay damp for long. I had to do something.
“C’mon, sport,” Greenberg called. “That trash in there isn’t worth all this. C’mon out here and palaver-the money in this thing is positively amazing.”
Fucking unbelievable, I thought. Children as sausage. I wanted to scream.
I threw back my head and howled like a frustrated wolf. Nothing happened. I did it again, and then both of my shepherds joined in. I went out the door in a crouch, moved to the right a few feet, and howled again. The shepherds came to the door and got into it in earnest. Some of the black-hat dogs howled back, thrilling the mountain fog. While the animals were doing their thing I sprinted straight out toward the torchlight, shotgun cocked and pointed forward, until I could make out some figures spread out in an arc, holding torches. One of them was much wider than all the others, and I didn’t hesitate: I stopped, knelt, raised the shotgun, and fired right at her, then let go the second barrel at the shortish figure standing next to Grinny. Then I jinked sideways while all hell broke loose back there in the fog, with guns going, dogs barking, and several torches hitting the ground as the black hats scattered.
I blasted back through the barn doors, jacking new shells into the shotgun. The shepherds dove in behind me, and then rounds started to smack against the walls and bang off the tin roof. I leaned around the doorjamb and fired two more shells into the darkness out front and then pulled the doors closed. Then I frantically began piling the hay bales into two rows, extending from the tunnel door to the front door, creating a channel between the two. A rifle bullet went by my head close enough to make me wince, and I could dimly hear shouting out front in between gunshots. The kids were flat on the ground, their eyes squeezed shut, grimy little hands over their ears. A bullet blew up their water bucket.
I piled the bales up three high, then partially opened the front doors and fired two more rounds in the direction of the torches. I knew I wasn’t hitting anything, but I fired low, hoping the sounds of buckshot slashing through the weeds would encourage the black hats to at least back away. Then I went to the tunnel door, reached over the row of bales, knocked the pitchfork away, and tripped the latch.
Four seriously ugly dogs charged into the makeshift run between the bales and bolted right out the front door, which I slammed shut behind them. Then I yelled at the girls and the shepherds to come with me. I swept them all into the tunnel and shut the door before the dogs outside figured out what had happened. I hadn’t had time to the grab the lantern, so we were in utter darkness. I switched on my flashlight, reloaded the shotgun with my last two shells, and then herded my little crew of terrified children up the passageway, the shepherds running ahead. Behind us I could hear bullets hitting that door. I should have barred it somehow, I realized.