The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10)

The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10) Page 13

Josie stood slowly and moved toward the door. When she did, I pulled Skarda backward so that he was standing between me and everyone else in the cabin. I rested the barrel of the shotgun on his shoulder just below his ear and pressed the muzzle of the Glock against his back.

“Jimmy,” she called. “Roy. Can you hear me? I need you to come into the cabin. Leave your guns on the deck.”

“Hell w’that.”

Josie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth, giving me the impression of an elementary school teacher slowly counting to ten. “Must you argue all the time, Roy?” she said. “That’s why no one likes you. Everything’s a debate.”

“People like me.”

“Get your ass in this cabin right this minute.”

A moment later I heard heavy footsteps on the deck. The door flew open and Roy stepped into the room. He was tall and clean-shaven, ten years older than Josie, with the furrowed brow of a man who would rather have his car stolen than admit he had forgotten where he parked it. He leaned down toward Josie, bringing his face within inches of hers.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” he hissed.

“Hey, pal,” I said. He pivoted and looked at me as if he were surprised to find me standing there. I angled the barrel of the shotgun so it was pointed between his eyes. “Stand by the old man and be quiet.”

His eyes narrowed, and he smiled with soft hostility. “Make me,” he said.

“What, are you five years old? Get over there.”

“Do what he says, Roy,” Skarda told him. “I already saw him kill a man today. Shot him three times—”

“Hey, Dave, hey.” I whacked Skarda’s ear with the barrel of the shotgun. “You didn’t see anything. Did you?”

Skarda rubbed his ear. “No, I didn’t see anything,” he said.

“Go stand over there, Roy,” I said.

Roy moved next to the old man. The young woman joined him there. She set a hand on his arm, a gesture meant to assuage his anger and frustration. He brushed it aside and glared malevolently at her. She backed away.

“Jimmy,” I said. “You still out there?”

“Yes.”

“Come on in.”

“You won’t hurt me, will you?”

“Why would I do that?”

Apparently Jimmy couldn’t think of a good reason, because he entered the cabin and moved to where the young woman was standing. He took her hand and squeezed it.

“Are you okay, Jills?”

She cradled his head and rested it against her shoulder. “It’ll be all right, Jims,” she said.

“It’ll be all right, Jims,” Roy said. The disdain in his voice was unmistakable. “What do you know about it?”

She looked from Roy to me. Her remarkable eyes darkened and she found a spot on the floor to stare at. Jimmy lifted his head from her shoulder and stood straight, but he did not release her hand.

“Nothing bad will happen as long as we all keep our heads,” I said. I was still using Skarda as a shield, still balancing the shotgun on his shoulder. “Who are you people?”

“You know me,” Josie said. “You know my brother. This is my father.” Her gesture swept from the old man to Jimmy and the girl. “These are my cousins Jillian and James Neihart. This is Jill’s husband, Roy Cepek.”

Now we know where she got the bruise, my inner voice said.

“What is this?” I asked. “A family reunion? Never mind. All I want to do is get my money and get out of here.”

“What money?” Roy asked.

“The fifty thousand dollars that Dave promised to pay if I broke him out of jail.”

“We don’t have it,” Josie said.

“You said twenty-five,” Skarda said.

“All right, I’ll settle for twenty-five,” I said.

“We don’t have it,” Josie said.

“Remember what I said about nothing bad happening? We might want to rethink that.”

“Mr. Dyson—”

“How much do you have?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I’m sorry.”

I whacked Skarda’s ear again. “Nothing, she said.” He brought his fingers up to soothe his ear, and I whacked them, too. “Nothing,” I repeated.

“I can explain,” Skarda said.

“Volatile personality, Dave. Remember? I did warn you.”

“Nick,” Josie said. “Your name is Nick, right?”

“Dyson. Just make it Dyson. Let’s not get overly friendly here.”

“Dyson, we don’t have fifty thousand dollars. We don’t have twenty-five thousand dollars. We don’t even have twenty-five hundred dollars. We’re barely making expenses as it is.”

“What do you have?”

Josie stepped forward. “We can give you a place to hide for a while. A place that’s safe and no hard feelings, okay? I mean, we pointed guns at you and you pointed guns at us…”

“Here? Is this the safe place you’re talking about?”

“Yes, and—”

“I’ve seen airport terminals with less traffic.”

“And tomorrow, tomorrow we can give you some money and show you a place where you can cross over into Canada. That’s where you’re going, isn’t it? Canada?”

“How much money?”

“A couple of thousand, anyway. That’s the best we can do.”

“Where are you going to get it?”

“We’re going to rob a grocery store in Silver Bay.”

“A grocery store?”