sending her to her death. We had to take that chance, I knew. Either way, she would probably die, and this was the one chance she had to take. I didn’t want her to do it. But I knew it was the only thing she could do. I had no idea what was going to happen, if it worked.
I drew in close to the right side of the road, still slowing, with one hand on Lillian’s thigh, resting easy, holding her gently back, waiting.
“You know, pal,” Angers said, “I have to find where I want to build, too. It should be centrally located.”
“That’s right,” I said.
I held my hand on her leg, and we approached the turn. A car passed us, gunning away fast. I came in very close to the right-hand curb, with the shrubbery almost brushing the car, then started the turn. I slapped her thigh, pushed her toward the door.
She slammed down on the door handle. The door swung open, and before I’d made the turn, she was out of the car, running for an instant beside us, then off toward the bushes.
I slammed my foot on the gas, all the way to the floor.
“Lillian!” Angers shouted.
The door banged closed and the engine began to pick up speed. It was an old car, and the engine was tired. Too much gas choked it up and I sat there cursing.
“Stop, Steve! Stop the car.”
I kept easing it to her.
Angers got his window open, leaned way out, and the Luger began barking above the crazy whine of the engine. I looked back once, searching the road back there. I saw her running, her white dress bright against the night. She was running along the bushes toward the palm trees.
I heard the gun bang away, then stop, and Angers sat back in the seat.
“Empty!” he said. “Damn that woman!”
We were going plenty fast now, right along the sea wall beside the bayou. And Ralph Angers’ gun was empty.
Chapter Ten
T HE ROAD followed the bayou for perhaps a mile and a half, I knew. It was all residential out here, and on the left there were large homes, fronting the water. Piers jutted occasionally from the sea wall and boats were moored to some of them. I figured I’d get as far away from Lillian as I could before I did anything. I couldn’t let him get that gun loaded. The tires slid and grabbed on the glassy brick pavement.
“Stop the car, Steve!” Angers said. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Lillian’s back there. Stop the car!”
All right. I decided to stop the car. I slammed the brakes with everything I had and the Dodge was out of my hands.
We whipped to the left, slammed over a curb, and careened wildly across somebody’s big beautiful lawn. We narrowly missed two coconut palms and I wrenched the wheel.
“Steve!” I heard Angers say. Something hit the back of my head.
I let her go then. I turned in the seat and went at him. He slammed at me with the gun, yelling something. The car came down into the street again, not going very fast now, and headed for the sea wall. It barked up against the short edge of wall, climbed it, followed it, then screeched to a rusty stop, teetering. The right-hand door was open again, and the car was tipped that way.
Angers was up on the back of the front seat and we started falling toward the water. Not the car, just us. I tried to hang on, but we went right on through the door into the bayou.
We landed in about two feet of water. I knew that just a step or two farther away from the wall the water was deep, real deep.
“Steve, what’s the matter with you?”
I dove at him. He was standing against the wall. I didn’t reckon with the gun. I tried to dodge, but he brought it down against my forehead. Once, twice, he whipped that gun against my head. I reeled backward and fell. It hurt plenty. I could hear him talking to me but I couldn’t make out the words.
I kept trying to get up but the bottom was mud and silt and slippery. I fell back toward deeper water. I dragged myself toward the sea wall and he was standing there, loading the clip on that damned gun, talking to me.
I drew in close to the right side of the road, still slowing, with one hand on Lillian’s thigh, resting easy, holding her gently back, waiting.
“You know, pal,” Angers said, “I have to find where I want to build, too. It should be centrally located.”
“That’s right,” I said.
I held my hand on her leg, and we approached the turn. A car passed us, gunning away fast. I came in very close to the right-hand curb, with the shrubbery almost brushing the car, then started the turn. I slapped her thigh, pushed her toward the door.
She slammed down on the door handle. The door swung open, and before I’d made the turn, she was out of the car, running for an instant beside us, then off toward the bushes.
I slammed my foot on the gas, all the way to the floor.
“Lillian!” Angers shouted.
The door banged closed and the engine began to pick up speed. It was an old car, and the engine was tired. Too much gas choked it up and I sat there cursing.
“Stop, Steve! Stop the car.”
I kept easing it to her.
Angers got his window open, leaned way out, and the Luger began barking above the crazy whine of the engine. I looked back once, searching the road back there. I saw her running, her white dress bright against the night. She was running along the bushes toward the palm trees.
I heard the gun bang away, then stop, and Angers sat back in the seat.
“Empty!” he said. “Damn that woman!”
We were going plenty fast now, right along the sea wall beside the bayou. And Ralph Angers’ gun was empty.
Chapter Ten
T HE ROAD followed the bayou for perhaps a mile and a half, I knew. It was all residential out here, and on the left there were large homes, fronting the water. Piers jutted occasionally from the sea wall and boats were moored to some of them. I figured I’d get as far away from Lillian as I could before I did anything. I couldn’t let him get that gun loaded. The tires slid and grabbed on the glassy brick pavement.
“Stop the car, Steve!” Angers said. He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. “Lillian’s back there. Stop the car!”
All right. I decided to stop the car. I slammed the brakes with everything I had and the Dodge was out of my hands.
We whipped to the left, slammed over a curb, and careened wildly across somebody’s big beautiful lawn. We narrowly missed two coconut palms and I wrenched the wheel.
“Steve!” I heard Angers say. Something hit the back of my head.
I let her go then. I turned in the seat and went at him. He slammed at me with the gun, yelling something. The car came down into the street again, not going very fast now, and headed for the sea wall. It barked up against the short edge of wall, climbed it, followed it, then screeched to a rusty stop, teetering. The right-hand door was open again, and the car was tipped that way.
Angers was up on the back of the front seat and we started falling toward the water. Not the car, just us. I tried to hang on, but we went right on through the door into the bayou.
We landed in about two feet of water. I knew that just a step or two farther away from the wall the water was deep, real deep.
“Steve, what’s the matter with you?”
I dove at him. He was standing against the wall. I didn’t reckon with the gun. I tried to dodge, but he brought it down against my forehead. Once, twice, he whipped that gun against my head. I reeled backward and fell. It hurt plenty. I could hear him talking to me but I couldn’t make out the words.
I kept trying to get up but the bottom was mud and silt and slippery. I fell back toward deeper water. I dragged myself toward the sea wall and he was standing there, loading the clip on that damned gun, talking to me.
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