Chapter Twenty-Five

Daniel heard Cleo’s gasp. Keeping a grip on the shovel, he slowly straightened from the hole to find himself looking down the barrel of a revolver.

“Burton Campbell,” he said with no surprise. A range of possible tactics raced through Daniel’s mind, each quickly discarded. Cleo was standing too close to Campbell. If Daniel could get her to step away without attracting the guy’s attention…

“I don’t know what you’ve done,” Daniel began in what he hoped was a conversational tone, “but anything more can only make things worse.”

“Don’t use those hostage negotiation tactics on me. You of all people should know they don’t work. Didn’t you single-handedly cause the death of a mother and her kids?”

Daniel stopped breathing.

“Jo told me all about it,” Campbell said. “She tells me a lot of things. You know Jo. There’s nothing she likes better than being the first link in the gossip chain.”

The deaths had been Daniel’s fault, brought about by an error in judgment and his damn inability to follow rules, follow protocol. He hadn’t thought the kidnapper-who was no more than a scared kid-would pull the trigger. But Daniel had been mistaken. He’d pushed too hard too fast, and by the time he and his team rushed the house, no one was left alive, not even the kidnapper.

“You’re just some charity case of Jo’s,” Campbell said. “She hired you out of pity. She told me you’d never get a job anywhere else. Nobody wants a mess like you. How old were those kids?”

“Shut up,” Daniel said.

“Just goes to show what a fuck-up you are.”

Daniel repositioned his grip on the shovel handle.

“He’s baiting you,” Cleo said. “Don’t listen to him.”

“You pretend to be in Egypt because of that brother of yours, but I know you’re using him as an excuse. You’re afraid. Isn’t that right? You’re nothing but a loser with a pitiful moron for a brother.”

A cry of rage tore from Daniel’s throat. With one hand, he shoved Cleo out of the way, with the other he swung at Campbell. The shovel connected with flesh and bone, the blade breaking away, leaving Daniel holding a piece of rotten wood. He threw down the handle and dove, grabbing Campbell with both hands. Daniel heard the crack of a gunshot. Pain, hot and searing, ripped through his shoulder, the impact throwing him to the ground.

“Daniel!” Cleo screamed.

Time stuttered, stopped, then started again.

Cleo’s mind pulled back-a way of distancing herself from the horror playing out before her. She watched Campbell raise his arm until the gun in his hand pointed straight at Daniel. Cleo lunged, throwing her body into Campbell. As he went down, the gun exploded, a bullet hit the wall with a pitht.

“Run!” Daniel shouted. He was lying on the ground, one hand pressed to his shoulder. “Go!” he yelled, his voice thick with agony.

Campbell shoved himself to his feet, face flushed, composure gone. “Outside!” He waved the gun wildly. When nobody moved, his face turned an even brighter red. “Now!”

Cleo took a step toward Daniel.

“Stay away from him,” Campbell ordered.

She ignored his command. Instead, she grabbed Daniel’s good arm and helped him to his feet. Sweat trailed down the side of his face. Blood, shiny and red, glistened against the dark green plaid of his shirt.

They left through a back door. From there, Campbell prodded them forward into a densely wooded area. Brambles cut Cleo’s arms and ripped her skirt. Tangled, twisting vines caught her ankles and pulled her hair.

The thickness of the vegetation forced them to walk in a line. Cleo took the lead while Daniel stumbled along behind her. She heard his labored breathing, heard him crash to the ground.

She swung around in time to see him struggling to his feet. Once upright, he looked into her eyes. In them, she saw so many things, but the main one, the one that broke her heart, was regret.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He straightened and his breath caught.

“Go,” Campbell commanded. “Move.”

He was taking them to a place where no one would find them.

From behind, Campbell barked out directions until they finally worked their way down an embankment.

Cleo stopped and Daniel ran into her.

Yards away, an open well protruded from the ground, the low walls lined with stone, the stones covered with years of moss. No one would find them there.

“I’m going to rush him again,” Daniel whispered, his lips barely moving. “When I do, I want you to run like hell and don’t look back.”

“He’ll kill you.”

“He’s going to kill us both anyway. At least you’ll have a chance.”

“I’ll rush him,” she whispered back. “You run.”

He gave her a crooked smile that said, Come on. You know that won’t work.

“I came across this the other day when I was looking for a good place to hide a body,” Campbell said. “It’s deep. Toss a pebble down there. Takes forever to hit bottom.”

When nobody moved, he repeated his command. Cleo found a small rock and dropped it in the well. She never heard it hit.

She didn’t see a way out. Daniel’s idea of rushing Campbell was maybe the only option, and that didn’t seem promising. She was so weak, she could hardly stand, let alone outrun someone. She looked at Daniel, silently begging him not to try it. There had to be another way.

He shook his head. No other way, his eyes said. The regret was there again. And she knew it had nothing to do with Campbell, nothing to do with what was happening now.

It’s okay. You didn’t mean to hurt me.

“These old farms are notorious for abandoned wells like this,” Campbell said. “I should adapt that to my rural renewal plan. Really, they should all be sealed so no one can fall in one, don’t you think?” His mood had improved now that everything was under control and going his way. “Both of you move a little closer,” he instructed, like someone preparing to take a snapshot rather than perform an execution.

“Don’t I get a last cigarette?” Daniel asked.

“Too much of a cliché. Besides,” Campbell looking above his head past the canopy of green, “it’ll be getting dark soon.” He pulled back the gun hammer. “Who wants to be first? You?” He pointed the weapon at Daniel. “Or you?” The gun shifted slightly until it was aimed at Cleo.

“Me.” They spoke in unison.

Campbell laughed.

He was still laughing when a breeze kicked up from somewhere, somehow penetrating the thick foliage. Campbell tipped his head slightly, thinking he heard something.

A little kid.

There it was. A little kid, chanting one of those verses.

“Old lady, old lady, turn around.

Old lady, old lady, touch the ground.”

Campbell turned his head, his eyes scanning the hillside, trying to find where the voice was coming from. There! A flash of red. Someone dashing from one tree to the next.

“Not last night, but the night before,

Twenty-four robbers came knocking at the door,

I went downstairs to let them in,

They hit me over the head with a rolling pin.”

“Hey!” Campbell shouted, his eyes straining for another flash of red, his ears intent upon the high-pitched voice. “Hey, kid! Come out of there!”

Daniel lunged. “Run!” he shouted to Cleo as the momentum of his attack sent both men to the ground. He tried to wrench the gun from Campbell ’s grip, surprised at the man’s strength. They rolled, grunting, evenly matched. Daniel didn’t need to win. He just needed to give Cleo a chance to get away.

Daniel’s surge of strength was quickly fading.

Campbell jabbed him in the shoulder. Daniel gasped, almost letting go of the wrist that held the gun. In a last-ditch effort, he pounded Campbell ’s arm against a stone that marked the perimeter of the well.