Kit Ehrman: At Risk

Harrison grabbed my hair and pulled my head back so that I had to look. I closed my eyes, but it didn't make any difference. I could see him clearly in my mind, every detail.

That was it. What I'd missed. The guard wasn't a horseman. He wouldn't have known that the riding area in barn B was called an arena. It had been Harrison or Robby on the phone, not the guard.

I wondered how he'd felt when they'd marched him in here and thought I already knew. My stomach heaved. I swallowed hard and tasted bile at the back of my throat.

"Johnny," Robby said, "his eyes are closed. Think he's asleep?"

"Let's wake him up." Harrison leaned into me and placed the knife under my ear. "This is how Robby did it." He drew the blade across my throat. "Just like that. Shit, Cline, you're shaking so much, you made me cut you." He chuckled. "Next time it's gonna go all the way in, got it?"

"I think he's got it," Robby said.

Harrison pulled me to my feet and shoved me against the wall. He stuck the point of the knife under my chin and squinted at my face.

I forced myself to hold his gaze.

"Say something, damn it."

"Fuck you."

He pushed the knife in deeper, and I had nowhere to go. I think he would have killed me then and there. It was certainly in his eyes. But Robby yelled, "Don't kill him, Johnny. Not yet. We run into the cops, we can use him."

Harrison eased up on the knife.

More blood trickled down my neck.

After a moment, Robby said, "Come on, Johnny. We gotta get outta here."

Harrison wiped his knife off on my shirt and slid it into a sheath on his belt. He reached into his waistband, pulled out the gun, and casually aimed it at my chest. "Don't try anything, Cline."

Robby grabbed hold of my arm and steered me toward the door.

"Robby," Harrison said, "move over. You're blocking my aim. You-"

I swung round in front of Robby, kneed him in the balls, and wrenched free of his grasp. I bolted for the door.

Rich was outside, but I didn't give a shit. I was getting out of there.

As I twisted around to get hold of the door handle, Harrison slammed into me. I hit the wall so hard, my teeth rattled.

"Nice try, Cline." He gripped my chin and turned my face toward his. "But you're not gettin' outta this. Not until I put you in the ground." He shoved my face sideways. "And it ain't gonna be no easy trip, is it Robby?"

Robby grinned, though he was no longer standing upright. "Not for him, it ain't."

"You know," Harrison said, "he's gonna be fun the way he don't wanna give in."

My skin prickled.

He held the gun to my head and waved me outside. Rich spun around at the sound of the door opening.

It had stopped raining. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, it seemed as if time had become suspended, and I was overcome with a feeling of disbelief.

As we turned toward the barns, Robby screeched, "Rich, you stupid sonofabitch! All the time we were in there, and you couldn't think to turn off the lights?"

"But John told me to be a lookout," Rich whined.

"What?" Harrison said. "You couldn't watch the road and turn off the lights?" He shoved me toward the barn. "Jesus Christ. Put out a neon sign, why don't ya? Send out engraved invitations. Before you know it, everybody and his brother'll be down here."

Harrison yanked on my arm, and I stumbled. Rich followed alongside, glancing nervously from Harrison to Robby. He wasn't afraid for me, though. He couldn't care less. His only concern was for his own hide. We walked into the barn aisle and stopped in front of the feed room.

"Go turn off the lights," Robby said.

Rich ran down the lane. The lights went out in aisle two, and he was back in less than half a minute. "Come on, John," his voice was high-pitched, "we gotta get outta here. We've been here way too long and-"

"Shut up," Harrison said. "I'm sick of your sniveling and whining. You should take a lesson from Cline, here. He's gonna be dead soon, and he ain't whining like you." He turned to face me. "Ain't that right, boy?"

I stared at him with what I hoped was an expression devoid of emotion. The longer we were on the farm, the greater the chance someone would realize that something was wrong.

Harrison pulled me into him, then slammed me against the feed room wall. "I want to hear you beg, damn it."

"No."

He leaned into me. His facial muscles were stretched tight, and a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin.

"You will, you know." A thought moved in his eyes, and he smiled. "After you're dead and buried, I'll go visit that cute, little honey of yours. Make her feel better."

Robby laughed.

I felt the blood drain from my face. I pushed against him. "You bastard!"

He swung the gun up hard and fast and broadsided me. I sagged against the wall and closed my eyes. Pain coursed through my head and settled in my eye. I heard a clicking sound-metal against metal-and instinctively knew what it was. I held my breath and opened my eyes. He was holding the gun in front of my nose, and the hammer was cocked.

He pressed the muzzle into my cheek. "Ask me not to."

Whatever I said, it wouldn't make any difference. The longer I held out, the longer I had to live. If I was wrong, if I had misread him, I would never know.

"Screw you."

Harrison looked over his shoulder at Robby.

"You've got his number," Robby said. "He doesn't like the thought of you doing his girl."

Harrison turned to face me. "You done it with her, boy? I can hardly wait to get my hands on her."

"Go to hell!" I choked on the words. Not her. Not Rachel.

Harrison studied my face, then nodded. "It's a start. Let's get the fuck outta here." He pulled me away from the wall, and Rich headed toward the doorway. "We'll drive by his apartment," Harrison said. "See if she's there."

Robby jiggled the coins in his pocket and cleared his throat. "Better not, Johnny. We gotta start tyin' up some loose ends, startin' with him."

Rich poked his head out the door, then jumped back as if he'd been shocked by a cattle prod. When he spun around, his eyes were wide with terror.

"There's a cop car parked outside the office." He almost screamed it.

"Shit." Harrison pushed me against the wall. "You're gonna get rid of him. If you don't, he's dead, and you're dead. Understand?"

I nodded.

Harrison spun me around to face the wall, then cut through the rope that bound my wrists.

"Now," he said, "get rid of him. If I even think he's getting suspicious, I'll kill you both. Got it?"

I nodded.

"Good. Don't move out of my line of sight, or you're dead."

I concentrated on keeping my legs steady and stepped out of the barn.

Officer Walter Dorsett, tall, lean, and muscular, was headed straight for me. Fifteen yards separated us. He stopped when I did, and his hand moved instinctively to his gun.

I cleared my throat. "Hi, Harry. Nice night." My voice was hoarse.

Dorsett removed his gun from its holster and held it at his side. He looked toward the barn door and, without looking at me, said, "What are you doing here?"

"Just checking on a horse."

"Everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better, Harry."

He signaled for me to approach him. When I didn't move, he raised the gun with both hands and sighted on the barn door.

"I'll catch up with you tomorrow, Steve," he said loudly, then jerked his head toward the door. "What time?"

What time? What was he talking about? Oh… "Three… three o'clock."

Dorsett glanced at me, and in that instant, I saw movement in my peripheral vision. I turned toward the barn door in time to see Harrison squeeze off three shots. The muzzle flash was brilliant in the dark.

"No!" I screamed and spun around.

The force of the bullet slamming into Dorsett's chest knocked him off his feet. The gun slipped from his hand and clattered onto the asphalt.