Linwood Barclay - Fear The Worst

Veronica became indignant. “They get lots of good jobs. Nannies, hotel work, restaurants, construction. Let me tell you something. They’ve got it a lot better here than they did back in the countries they came from. You see any of them trying to go home?”

“Would you let them? What do they pay you to come here? What kind of horseshit stories do you tell them to convince them they’re going to have a better life when they get here?”

Veronica had nothing more to say. When it was clear she wasn’t interested in debating with me any longer, I said to Patty, “You know she’s going to have to kill Sydney. And me. And Bob.”

Patty said nothing.

“And probably you, too,” I said.

“Don’t listen to him, Patty,” said Veronica. “You fucked this up, but you’ve been a lot of help to us. You made the right decision, telling me how to find your friend.” She was agitated. “Where are the rest of them?”

“They should be here any second,” Patty said. “If they see your car-”

“It’s across the street, behind a gift shop. Go out onto the road, flag them down, tell them to come onto the bridge, that Mr. Blake has turned his ankle, something. You’re good at lying.” She smiled. “Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Patty took a couple of hesitant steps.

“Go!” Veronica hissed.

Patty ran.

“The shit’s hit the fan back in Milford,” I said. “Have you heard?”

She looked at me.

“Gary’s dead. Carter is dead. Owen’s in the hospital.”

I could tell that she didn’t know about this. She was trying to hide her surprise.

“The whole thing’s unraveling, Veronica. You’d be smarter to forget about us and just get in your car and drive as far away as you can.”

“Shut up,” she said.

“You can’t go back. I’ll bet the hotel is swarming with police right now. When Owen’s able to, he’ll probably tell them everything if it means he can cut some kind of a deal. I’ll bet he gives you up first.”

“I have friends,” Veronica said, but her voice lacked confidence.

“Out in Seattle, maybe? Did one of them send you that cell phone in the mail?”

“Just shut up.”

“I don’t care how many friends you have. I don’t like your odds now. I think, basically, you’re fucked, Veronica.”

Her eyes dazzled angrily as she held the gun on me. “I don’t think so.”

We could both hear a car approaching. Then, in the distance, Patty yelling, “Over here! Over here!”

My gun was down in the creek, but Bob would still have his. The problem was, he had no idea he was going to need it. If I didn’t think I could get the drop on Veronica-she was careful to stand several feet away from me-I would have to wait until I was sure Bob and Sydney were out of the car before I started shouting.

I heard the echo of a car door closing, then some girlish squealing. Patty and Sydney embracing. Sydney genuinely excited, Patty giving an Oscar-worthy performance.

They needed to quiet down, just for a second.

I could hear them approaching the end of the covered walkway.

“Run!” I shouted as loud as I could.

“Fuck!” Veronica said, and fired.

I was already moving, but not quite fast enough. My left ear suddenly felt very hot and my hand went up to it instinctively. I could feel blood trickling out between my fingers. The bullet had nicked the top of my ear. The shock of it bounced me off the walkway wall and down to the floor.

Instead of scaring everyone away, the shot brought people running.

Bob was in the lead, reaching around to his back, which suggested to me that he had the Ruger with him. He could see me down on the bridge, and Veronica, gun still in hand.

He brought out the weapon, fired one shot wild, using all the skill he’d employed when he’d taken a shot out the window of the Mustang.

Veronica threw herself up against the wall and fired back, even though Sydney and Patty were already on the bridge behind Bob, and at risk of getting hit.

Bob, as it turned out, was an effective cover for both of them. “Oh shit!” he shouted. The gun fell out of his right hand. He grabbed his upper right arm with his left hand and tripped over his own feet. “Jesus!” he said. “I’m fucking shot!”

Sydney screamed.

Now Veronica was running down the bridge, away from me. Sydney turned to run, but Patty blocked her way long enough for Veronica to grab her. She took hold of her by the arm and started dragging her back to where I was leaning up against the walkway wall.

Veronica said to Patty, “Get that gun!” Meaning Bob’s, which had slid away from him. He was in too much pain to try to reach it.

Patty did as she was told, held the weapon down at her side in her right hand.

Veronica turned on Sydney and said, “Get over there.” She kept pushing Sydney along the bridge, then shoved her down when they reached me.

Sydney threw her arms around me, her fingers getting smeared with my blood.

“Dad, are you okay? Are you shot?”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“Why is Patty helping her?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

I put an arm around Sydney, pulled her into me. I wanted a chance to hold her before Veronica ended up killing all of us.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “We’re together. I love you. I love you so much.”

Veronica looked down at Sydney. “God, what a pain-in-the-ass little bitch you turned out to be. All we wanted was a nice, English-speaking face on the front desk, and look at the trouble you got us into.”

“He was a bad man,” Sydney said through her tears. “Mr. Tripe was a very bad man.”

“You think I’ve been hunting you down to get even for that?” Veronica asked. “I just want to shut you up, once and for all. As long as there was a chance you might come back, tell the police about the hotel…” Veronica shook her head, called over to Patty, “Bring me that other gun, would you, love?”

Patty approached.

The gun hung from her right arm. I wondered if Bob had ended up with the Ruger with only one bullet left in it. If so, it was empty now. That would mean at least Patty was not a threat.

But how many bullets did Veronica still have in her weapon?

Patty stopped a few feet away, gun still in her hand.

“You know how this is going to go,” I said to Patty. “If you ever thought there was going to be a chance for us to connect, to have anything, it’s not going to happen. She’s going to kill me. And your sister.”

Sydney said, “What?”

“Just shut up,” Patty said.

“She’s your sister,” I told Sydney.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Patty shouted.

I was still looking at Sydney. “Patty is… Patty’s my daughter.”

Sydney couldn’t find any words.

In the distance, a siren. People, no doubt, had heard the shots.

“Shit,” said Veronica. “We have to get out of here.”

It sounded as though more than one siren was approaching. A cop car, probably an ambulance, too.

“I’m sorry,” Patty whispered. She looked at Syd and me. “I’m sorry. I really really fucked this up. This isn’t how I wanted it to go.”

A solitary tear ran down her left cheek.

Veronica pointed her gun at my head. “We have to run,” she said. “Bye-bye.”

I got ready. I tried to pull myself over Sydney, to somehow protect her.

And then the shot came. Loud.

But it didn’t come from Veronica’s gun.

Then there was another shot.

Bob, evidently, had taken the gun with three bullets.

Veronica’s body was thrown up against the railing. Feebly, she raised her weapon and fired it once at Patty before she slid down to the planks of the covered walkway.