Good Day In Hell by J.D. Rhoades Page B

steel cable blocking the road.
    “What now?” Marie asked.
    “Guess we walk,” Keller replied. He turned off the engine and killed the lights. They got out and stood by the car for a few moments. Gradually, the blackness began to resolve into shadows, then to actual shapes as their eyes became accustomed to seeing by starlight. Keller opened the back of the car and took out the shotgun and Kevlar vest.
    “That’s not going to stop a knife,” Marie warned him as he slipped the vest on. Keller had filled her in on Laurel Marks’s history of violence as they were driving. While a bulletproof vest would stop a blunt high-speed entry such as a handgun round, the more focused blow of the sharp tip of a knife had been known to penetrate Kevlar.
    “I know,” Keller said. “But she or this Randle guy might have a gun. And if she has a knife… well, that’s where you come in.”
    “Great,” Marie said. Keller took out a long black flashlight and handed it to her.
    They walked down the road side by side. Darkness surrounded them. There were no other houses on either side of the dirt track. Cicadas buzzed in the trees around them and every now and then the groaning bellow of a bullfrog announced that they were close to water. The road suddenly widened and they stepped into the clearing. They could see moonlight shimmering on the river. The trailer loomed to one side. There was no light through any of the windows.
    “Looks like no one’s home,” Marie said.
    “Maybe,” Keller said. “Or they heard us from up the road.” He unslung the shotgun and advanced slowly. Marie drew her Beretta and walked behind and slightly to one side. When they reached the door of the trailer, Keller took up a position on one side. Marie crouched on the other. “Hand me the light,” he whispered. She did. He reached up and tapped firmly on the door. Nothing. Hetapped again. Still no response. “Laurel?” he called out. Nothing. Keller relaxed and Marie straightened up. He put a finger to his lips, then pointed to his eyes, finishing with a circular motion of his index finger pointed skyward. Look around.
    Marie nodded. She stepped away from the door and stole silently off into the darkness. Keller edged slowly down the side of the trailer to the window. The curtains were drawn and he could see nothing. He stopped for a moment to consider, then walked around back. The windows there were also curtained.
    He went back around to the front and stood for a moment, watching the front door and considering the situation. He played the flashlight over the dirt driveway in front of the trailer. He could see the tracks left by a large vehicle, a truck or van.
    No lights, no vehicle, he thought. Fuck it, no one’s home. He glanced over to where Marie was standing in the tall grass. He saw her bend over to pick something up. He glanced back at the door. As a cop, she probably wasn’t going to approve of what he was about to do. But one thing he had learned in the army was the old adage “Ask forgiveness, not permission.” He slung the shotgun onto his shoulder and set the flashlight down on the trailer’s rickety wooden steps. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, flat leather case. He stepped up onto the steps and flipped the case open. He withdrew a pair of slender metal picks and set to work. It only took a few moments for him to pick the cheap lock on the trailer’s front door. He slid the case of picks back into his pocket, then unslung the shotgun and turned the knob. There was a slight feeling of resistance as he slowly pulled the door open. Keller frowned and pulled harder, then yanked on the knob.
    Marie stalked silently through the grass, looking right and left for signs of anyone hiding out in the overgrown area around the trailer. There was no sound other than the crickets and the bullfrogs. She straightened up and holstered her weapon. If the bugs and the frogs were raising this much hell in the grass, it was