Knock Out
Page 95
Joanna and Autumn. They had to be all right if he was; surely he wouldn’t have hurt Joanna, but he could have. Blessed could have told him to do anything and he’d have done it as fast as he could and to the best of his ability. Even murder. It was in that moment he realized he was tied to a chair, his hands behind his back, nearly numb. He tested the knots. They were solid. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his head and studied the room.
Cheap dresser, ugly brown draperies, threadbare and dirty, covering a set of skinny windows. The brown-painted door looked like a kid could shove it open. It smelled like air freshener. A motel. He was in a cheap motel. Where?
He heard slow, even breathing behind him. At first he didn’t understand—it was Joanna and she was probably tied to the chair behind him, still sleeping or unconscious.
“Joanna?”
No answer. He worked his hands more but the knots held.
He heard a movement off to his left, turned his head quickly, and nearly groaned with the slicing pain in his head. Blessed stood not six feet from him. He looked taller than Ethan remembered when he’d been propped against the wall in his guest bedroom, a bullet wound in his shoulder, his mad eyes blindfolded to protect anyone who looked at him. Ethan froze, quickly looked down.
“You’re awake, are you? No, I won’t stymie you, but I could, real fast, you know that.”
“Ethan!” Autumn ran to him and threw herself against his chest. “You’re awake. Are you back again, Ethan?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m back.”
“But maybe not for long, Sheriff,” Blessed said.
Ethan said quickly, “Where are we?”
“You’re in a lovely motel tied to a chair. The woman is tied to the chair behind you. She’s still asleep. Don’t worry about her; she’ll come out of it when she’s ready to. It’s interesting that you woke up first. Usually women wake up faster. Grace always says—” Blessed broke off, swallowed once, then again. He rubbed his shoulder where Savich had shot him.
Ethan said, “You need to get that bandage changed, Blessed, or you might die of gangrene. It still hurts pretty bad, doesn’t it? And how about your arm where Joanna shot you?”
“I’ll be a lot better than you’ll be when this is all over.”
“I saw him take lots of aspirin,” Autumn said.
Blessed walked to Joanna, slapped her face lightly. “Come on, you bitch, face me.”
Autumn jumped back from Ethan and hurled herself at Blessed. “Don’t you dare call my mama a bitch! My mama isn’t a bitch. And don’t you hit her again, you hear me? You’re a monster, you’re crazy. Leave Ethan alone. Leave my mama alone!”
“Now, now, Autumn, child, calm down.” Blessed’s voice had gone all low and soothing, but that sounded bizarre to Ethan, and evidently to Autumn too. Ethan could hear her hitting him, hear her panting, then Blessed must have grabbed her. “Calm down, Autumn, or I’ll stymie the sheriff right now.”
Silence.
He heard her fierce little voice: “Don’t you stymie him again! Don’t, or I’ll run away from you, I’ll hide, and you’ll never find me.”
“I can always find you.”
“Then I’ll go hide in another place and then another and another until you’re dead. You’re old, you’ll die soon. Don’t you dare stymie Ethan again!”
More silence, then Blessed said, “All I have to do is tie you up, little girl. Don’t threaten me.”
Ethan twisted about in the chair so he could see them. There was fear in Autumn’s voice, and rage, and hysteria, building. She started to hyperventilate, and then she was crying, ugly, tearing sobs.
Blessed wasn’t deaf; he heard it too. Ethan heard the desperation in his voice as Blessed said, “Stop breathing so hard, stop it. And stop crying.”
Autumn cried harder.
“Oh, all right, all right. If the sheriff doesn’t try to do anything stupid, I’ll let him be, but only as long as you do what I tell you to do.”
Autumn stopped crying. She started to hiccup.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise. But you better keep your word or I’ll run and hide from you.” Ethan knew a hysterical child was the last thing Blessed needed. Autumn hiccupped again, but it sounded—it sounded like a fake hiccup to him. Despite the blasting pain in his head, Ethan smiled. She was an incredible kid.
“Sheriff?”
It was Blessed, and he was standing just off to Ethan’s right side. “Your head hurt?”
Cheap dresser, ugly brown draperies, threadbare and dirty, covering a set of skinny windows. The brown-painted door looked like a kid could shove it open. It smelled like air freshener. A motel. He was in a cheap motel. Where?
He heard slow, even breathing behind him. At first he didn’t understand—it was Joanna and she was probably tied to the chair behind him, still sleeping or unconscious.
“Joanna?”
No answer. He worked his hands more but the knots held.
He heard a movement off to his left, turned his head quickly, and nearly groaned with the slicing pain in his head. Blessed stood not six feet from him. He looked taller than Ethan remembered when he’d been propped against the wall in his guest bedroom, a bullet wound in his shoulder, his mad eyes blindfolded to protect anyone who looked at him. Ethan froze, quickly looked down.
“You’re awake, are you? No, I won’t stymie you, but I could, real fast, you know that.”
“Ethan!” Autumn ran to him and threw herself against his chest. “You’re awake. Are you back again, Ethan?”
“Yes, sweetheart, I’m back.”
“But maybe not for long, Sheriff,” Blessed said.
Ethan said quickly, “Where are we?”
“You’re in a lovely motel tied to a chair. The woman is tied to the chair behind you. She’s still asleep. Don’t worry about her; she’ll come out of it when she’s ready to. It’s interesting that you woke up first. Usually women wake up faster. Grace always says—” Blessed broke off, swallowed once, then again. He rubbed his shoulder where Savich had shot him.
Ethan said, “You need to get that bandage changed, Blessed, or you might die of gangrene. It still hurts pretty bad, doesn’t it? And how about your arm where Joanna shot you?”
“I’ll be a lot better than you’ll be when this is all over.”
“I saw him take lots of aspirin,” Autumn said.
Blessed walked to Joanna, slapped her face lightly. “Come on, you bitch, face me.”
Autumn jumped back from Ethan and hurled herself at Blessed. “Don’t you dare call my mama a bitch! My mama isn’t a bitch. And don’t you hit her again, you hear me? You’re a monster, you’re crazy. Leave Ethan alone. Leave my mama alone!”
“Now, now, Autumn, child, calm down.” Blessed’s voice had gone all low and soothing, but that sounded bizarre to Ethan, and evidently to Autumn too. Ethan could hear her hitting him, hear her panting, then Blessed must have grabbed her. “Calm down, Autumn, or I’ll stymie the sheriff right now.”
Silence.
He heard her fierce little voice: “Don’t you stymie him again! Don’t, or I’ll run away from you, I’ll hide, and you’ll never find me.”
“I can always find you.”
“Then I’ll go hide in another place and then another and another until you’re dead. You’re old, you’ll die soon. Don’t you dare stymie Ethan again!”
More silence, then Blessed said, “All I have to do is tie you up, little girl. Don’t threaten me.”
Ethan twisted about in the chair so he could see them. There was fear in Autumn’s voice, and rage, and hysteria, building. She started to hyperventilate, and then she was crying, ugly, tearing sobs.
Blessed wasn’t deaf; he heard it too. Ethan heard the desperation in his voice as Blessed said, “Stop breathing so hard, stop it. And stop crying.”
Autumn cried harder.
“Oh, all right, all right. If the sheriff doesn’t try to do anything stupid, I’ll let him be, but only as long as you do what I tell you to do.”
Autumn stopped crying. She started to hiccup.
“Do you promise?”
“Yes, I promise. But you better keep your word or I’ll run and hide from you.” Ethan knew a hysterical child was the last thing Blessed needed. Autumn hiccupped again, but it sounded—it sounded like a fake hiccup to him. Despite the blasting pain in his head, Ethan smiled. She was an incredible kid.
“Sheriff?”
It was Blessed, and he was standing just off to Ethan’s right side. “Your head hurt?”
