Linwood Barclay: Parting Shot

He dropped to his knees as the poker came around for a third time, this time catching him across the neck.

He hit the floor, writhing and gagging. He rolled onto his back, and as he looked up, a sliver of moonlight coming through one of the windows briefly lit up the face of his attacker.

What Cory saw was so unimaginably horrible he managed to utter a gasp between choking noises.

“Nice to see you again,” said Craig Pierce.

Barry Duckworth called me back more quickly than I had expected.

“Nothing on that phone,” he said. “It’s a burner. I can’t connect a name to it.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll get back to you.”

I had been talking with an officer named Higgins from the Town of Sandwich Police Department, filling him in on what Gregor Kiln had tried to accomplish. I wouldn’t let Kiln out of my sight, even as the paramedics examined him. I wouldn’t do that until someone had cuffed his wrists and shoved him into the back of a cruiser. If he left here in an ambulance, I was going to insist that a cop go with him.

“So this kid,” Higgins said, nodding his head toward Jeremy Pilford, who was standing a few feet away watching the fire department douse the flames that had engulfed Madeline Plimpton’s place, “is the one that was all over the news?”

“Yes,” I said.

Higgins pointed at Kiln. “So you shot that guy?”

“I did.”

“And broke his knee?”

“Possibly.”

“Maybe I should be arresting you.”

“I explained to you what he was trying to do.”

“Yeah, but you might be givin’ me a story.”

“See if he wants to file charges,” I said. “My guess is he’s got bigger things to worry about.”

Higgins pinched the top of his nose, as though trying to ward off a headache. “Look, I think I’m gonna have to bring the chief in on this. Arson, attempted murder, the Big Baby case? You shootin’ this guy. If the chief doesn’t hear about it till morning, my ass is gonna be in a sling.”

“Good idea,” I said. I asked for the chief’s name — it was Bertram — and contact info so that I could forward it on to Barry. While I’d been fairly forthcoming with Higgins, I’d not mentioned that Kiln’s cell phone was in my pocket.

Higgins excused himself to call his boss. I sent a message to Barry with the info about the chief. Jeremy wandered over and said, “Madeline’s not gonna be very happy. Have you called her and told her what’s happened to her place?”

I shook my head. “No, and I’m not going to.”

For all I knew right now, Madeline was the one who’d sent this guy, although I still couldn’t fathom why she would do that.

“And if you’ve magically managed to pull another cell phone out of your ass,” I said to Jeremy, “I don’t want you doing it either. We’re on radio silence for a while.”

“On what?”

“We’re not calling or talking to anybody. Don’t call your mother or Bob or your girlfriend Charlene or anyone.”

“Why?”

“Just go along with this, okay?”

Jeremy shrugged. “I guess.”

“No, no guess. Promise me.”

“Fine, I promise. What are we gonna do now? We’ve got no place to stay.”

“I think we’ll be heading home very soon. At least as soon as they’ll let us.”

Two more police cars had arrived, and four officers — two men and two women — got out. Higgins, a cell phone to his ear, waved over one of the women and started a conversation with her. He pointed to Kiln, and the woman nodded several times. As she walked over to where the paramedics were treating our shooter, Higgins resumed his phone conversation.

Then he called me over.

“Chief wants to talk to you,” he said.

I took the phone. “Hello?”

“Weaver?”

“That’s right. Chief Bertram?”

“Yeah. You’re private?”

He sounded very deeply pissed, and I didn’t think it just had to do with the fact that Officer Higgins had woken him up.

“Yes,” I said. “Look, I know you have a lot of questions, but before you begin, I’d like to offer my apologies.”

“Huh?”

“I just brought a shit storm of trouble your way. That wasn’t my intention. I came here with the Pilford boy because I thought he’d be safe here. He’s been the subject of countless death threats. It didn’t work out. I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t, actually, but I didn’t see the point in getting on the wrong side of this man from the get-go.

“Well,” he said, his voice sounding slightly softer than a moment earlier, “you sure got that right. I’m comin’ out there shortly, but in the meantime, I need you to bring me up to speed.”

I told him the same story I’d told Higgins. “You’re going to be hearing, any moment, I think, from Detective Barry Duckworth of the Promise Falls Police.”

“Where the hell is that?” Bertram asked.

“New York state. North of Albany. He’s going to ask you something on my behalf.”

“What might that be?”

“Nothing to the press for about twelve hours. Except that there was a fire.”

“Not likely to be any questions for that long anyway,” Bertram said. “This isn’t exactly Manhattan. We don’t have CNN watching our every move. But let me ask you why.”

“I’d like whoever sent this Kiln guy to kill us to think the job got done.”

There was a long pause at Bertram’s end. Then, “I’ll talk to your Duckworth guy. See if you’re on the level. My phone’s beeping now.”

“Take the call,” I said, and handed the phone back to Higgins.

Kiln was being loaded into the ambulance. The officer Higgins had spoken to climbed in with him. I ran over before they closed the doors.

“Where you taking him?” I asked.

“Hyannis,” said the paramedic.

I fixed my gaze on the officer. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”

She looked at me skeptically. “And who are you?”

“Just don’t,” I said, and closed the doors.

The ambulance rolled down the drive, red light flashing but siren off, and sped off once it had reached the road. I’d strolled down the driveway after it and watched it disappear into the distance.

Here, a hundred feet or so away from the charred beach house, things were slightly calmer, and quieter. I got out Kiln’s phone, brought up the number he’d most recently been in touch with, and dialed it.

It rang five times.

“Yeah.” A man’s voice.

Definitely not Madeline.

It was low, almost a whisper, as though someone else was in the room he did not want to wake. One word certainly wasn’t enough for me to recognize the voice, and there was no reason to believe this was someone I’d ever spoken to before, anyway.

I didn’t have the skills to do an impersonation of Gregor Kiln, but maybe it wouldn’t be necessary. I was going to be whispering, too.

“It’s done,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Both of them.”

“Fine. Next week.”

Next week what? Payment? I didn’t want to ask.

“Need a meet sooner,” I said.

“Next week.”

“No,” I pressed. “There was a complication.”

A pause. “What kind of complication.”

I dropped my voice even lower. “Can’t discuss now. In person.”

“Shit.” Another pause. “Ten. Usual place.”

And where was that?

“Ten’s good,” I said. “But not the usual place. Think it’s being watched.”

“What?” His voice went up. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Told you, can’t now. Tomorrow, ten, take a booth at the back of Kelly’s.”

“What the hell is Kelly’s?”

“Diner, Promise Falls.”

“Why the hell do I have to go up there?”