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Glancing from her to Sandy, he stepped over to the girl from the trunk. She'd obviously been no match for Lisa. She was sprawled on her back, whimpering as she gasped for breath. The bib of her jumper had been torn down. Her blouse was ripped open and pulled off one shoulder. The skin of that shoulder looked mangled. In the glow from the street light, Trev saw blood there, mixed with the running black rain water. Her pleated skirt was rucked up around her waist. A knee sock had come down and was bunched above her ankle. Trev nudged that ankle with his shoe. |
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He stepped backward, sweeping his weapon from side to side. |
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'I'm in command,' he told the women as they slowly rose to their feet. 'You'll do whatever I say. Anybody causes trouble, I'll shoot. If you behave yourselves, we might all get through this mess alive. Is that . . .?' |
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From behind him came the metalic snick-snack of someone working a pump action. |
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Francine. She stood by the car's open door, grinning, a shotgun at her hip. |
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The one he'd left in the car. |
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He jerked his trigger. In the instant before the hammer dropped, he heard a clack from the shotgun and realized it was empty. He had no time to turn his muzzle away. The revolver bucked. Its blast crashed |
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