Collision Course (20 page)

“I'm really not the man to facilitate anything,” he said. “I'm glad to help out wherever I can, but this is not my meeting. I just handed out the flyers with Harold and Robby. This is your meeting, so if someone has an idea, come on up.”

“Let's just have our own farmers' market,” someone shouted.

“That's a great idea. Why don't you come on up and lead the discussion?”

“What's to discuss? Just tell us which day and where, and let's do it,” the voice said, not quite as strongly as before.

Gabe's shoulders dropped. He placed his hands back on the podium, noticing that they weren't shaking anymore. He sighed. “What day would be good for everyone?”

“Ever since the lights went out, I've lost track of what day it is!” Jane yelled out, smiling up at Gabe, as if she was enjoying his uneasiness. The whole auditorium laughed.

“Thursday,” Gabe replied seriously. A second later, he laughed uncomfortably, realizing Jane was trying to lighten the mood or pulling his leg. Probably both, he thought.

“What's wrong with Saturday?” someone asked loudly.

“Nothing, I guess,” Gabe said. “I figured we could just do it here in the church parking lot. Say we start at about eight. Is that all right with everyone?”

Gabe only heard positive responses. “All right, then, is that all, or is there anything else?”

It was quiet for a moment as everyone looked around. Just as Gabe was about to adjourn the meeting, a woman from the center of the sanctuary spoke. “What's everyone doing about school? I've been too afraid to send my kids for a couple of weeks now.”

“Me, too,” someone else said.

“I stopped sending mine last week when there was a shooting less than a block from the school,” another voice said.

“What about homeschooling them?” a man in the front said.

“I would, but I don't have the materials,” the lady who started the conversation said.

“Does anyone here homeschool their kids?” Gabe asked.

Two people raised their hands.

“Good. How about teachers? Do we have any here?”

Two other people raised their hands.

“That's excellent,” Gabe said. “How about the four of you get together and come up with some suggestions for the next meeting, just like the roadblock guys?”

It seemed as though everyone was in agreement. Gabe decided not to ask for any more questions. He just wanted to finish up the meeting.

“Then what does everyone think about getting back together on Saturday evening, same time as today?”

Everyone agreed.

“Then we're adjourned.” Gabe gave a quiet sigh, and felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

CHAPTER 22

T
he knock on the door woke DJ up from his nap with a start. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his pistol, and headed toward the door of his room. Before he could get there, Crystal appeared.

“It's the sheriff,” she whispered, her eyes wild. “What should we do?”

“Do you know him?”

Crystal shook her head.

DJ turned and placed his pistol on the bed. “I'll answer it,” he said. “Will you just go along with me, no matter what happens?”

She nodded.

He made his way to the front door as quickly as he could, but not before the authoritative knock was repeated. DJ unlocked the door and pulled it open before the man on the outside could put his hand down.

“Hello, Sheriff,” DJ said, painting on his best smile.

“Uh, it's Reserve Deputy Johnson actually.”

The man was a little shorter and much wider than DJ. He was older, too. His eyes didn't hold the icy stare the professional peace officers in the city had. DJ had dealt with many of his city's finest when he caught shoplifters at the mall. The cops all had a certain air about them as if nothing escaped their notice, but not Reserve Deputy Johnson.

This guy looked more like a manager of a fast food joint. His uniform was shabby and worn sloppily, the shirttail hanging out around his ample midsection. His pistol was an inexpensive model DJ wouldn't have used for a trotline weight, and it was in a cheap nylon holster he'd never seen professionals use.

“I'm sorry, Deputy. Won't you come in?”

“No, no,” the man said. “I don't want to bother you folks, Mr. . . . ?”

“Clark,” DJ said. “It's on the mailbox.” He pointed toward the road.

The deputy looked over his shoulder in the direction DJ was pointing. Of course, the letters on the mailbox weren't big enough to read from this distance. The man turned back. “We're looking for two brothers,” he said, holding up two pictures. “Have you seen them, by chance?”

Despite his best effort, DJ felt his eyes widen and his face go hot as he recognized the two quad thieves. He knew that an experienced lawman would have picked up on it. He hoped this guy wouldn't since he was obviously just some hick wannabe who probably wasn't able to make it on a real force. DJ reached out and took the pictures, pretending to study them. After a moment or two, he extended them back toward the substitute lawman.

“Sorry, Deputy. I don't recognize either one of them.”

“Perhaps your wife has seen them?” the deputy asked.

DJ walked over to Crystal and held up the pictures. “Honey, have you seen these men?”

Crystal immediately shook her head no. DJ walked back to the door and gave the pictures back.

“I'm afraid neither of us has seen much of anyone the last couple of weeks,” DJ said. “Why are you looking for them?” he asked, feigning mild interest.

“That's a good question,” the man said in exasperation. “They're just a couple of local punks, but they're the sheriff's second cousins or something, so he has us out looking for them. Supposedly, they've been missing for a couple of days. We found their truck on a side road not too far from here, and now the sheriff has us going door to door. It's a big waste of time if you ask me. We've got a lot worse problems than a couple of overgrown delinquents. They're probably holed up in some crack house or whorehouse, or something. Anyway, if you see them, tell them their mama's looking for them, okay?”

“No problem,” DJ said in a cheery voice.

“Thank you, Mr. Clark,” the deputy said. He turned and walked back to his car. DJ shut the door but watched as the deputy backed out of the driveway and drove off.

“Does he know anything?” Crystal asked as DJ turned from the door.

“I don't think so. He's not a real cop.”

“Good,” she said. “I was scared.”

“No need to be, Crystal. Even if he did know something, it would all be on me. I'd tell them you didn't know anything about it.”

The tension on her face melted. “Thanks, DJ,” she said as she stepped up and gave him a hug.

He returned it. “You're welcome, girl. How about I help you with dinner?”

* * *

Jane set the large pot of soup in the middle of her kitchen table. The smell of the chicken wafted over the room. She filled the three bowls, then sat next to Gabe. He detected the scent of her perfume over the aroma of the soup. It made his mind race and he wondered what might happen if they got some time alone tonight.

“What do you think?” she said.

“This looks great,” he said quickly, hoping she was talking about the soup and not what he was thinking about.

“Thanks, but I was talking about what you thought about the meeting.”

“Oh, I guess it went okay. I was hoping a leader would show up and take over. Maybe once people get a little more comfortable, someone will step up to the plate.”

“I'm sure we'll find someone,” she said. “How's your soup, Robby?”

“This is delicious, Mom,” Robby mumbled with his mouth half-full.

“Yes, Jane, you really outdid yourself. The chicken tastes so fresh,” Gabe said.

“It should. One of the hens quit laying a few days ago. I told her that everyone had to contribute one way or another. Today was her last chance.”

Gabe looked at Jane with surprise. “Oh,” he said. “Well, I hope I'm contributing. . . .”

“We'll see,” Jane said with a smile.

When dinner was over and the dishes were done, the trio retired to the living room. Jane and Robby sat down, but Gabe looked nervously toward the door. Jane noticed, but didn't say anything. After a minute, he spoke.

“I'll be right back.”

He headed out the front door and went to his truck. He removed the box containing the .22 rifle from behind the seat. When he came back in with it under his arm, Robby's eyes lit up. Gabe looked at Jane, and she gave him a soft smile and a gentle nod of her head.

“Robby, this is a .22 rifle you can use,” Gabe said, as he set the box on the coffee table. “Tomorrow morning, I'll show you how to shoot it and how to care for it. This is not a toy. If I see that you don't respect how dangerous even a .22 can be, I will take it back home. Understand?”

“I promise, Mr. Horne, I'll be careful.”

“I know you will.” Gabe smiled. He opened the box and lifted the little rifle from it. He opened the bolt and looked to make sure the rifle wasn't loaded. “Tonight, I want us to go over the rules. First, you must treat every gun as if it is loaded, whether it is or not.”

“Treat every gun like it's loaded,” Robby said as he stared at the .22 as if it were some magic talisman.

“Second, never point a gun at anything you aren't willing to destroy.”

Robby repeated word for word.

“Next, finger off the trigger until the sights are on the target,” Gabe said.

“Finger off the trigger until sights are on target.”

“And last, always make sure of your target and what is behind it.”

Robby parroted the last rule.

“Good, we'll go over these again in the morning.” Gabe motioned the boy over. When he was close enough, Gabe handed the .22 to him. Robby took it cautiously and looked it over from end to end, careful to keep the muzzle pointed at the ceiling.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Horne! I can't wait to shoot it tomorrow. This is going to be so much fun.”

“You're welcome, Robby. I'm sure you'll have a great time with it, but I'm not just lending it to you for fun. Your mother and I are going to expect you to provide us with some meat. There are lots of rabbits and squirrels in this area, and I don't think your mother has enough chickens to cook one every day.”

“You can count on me,” Robby pledged.

Gabe laughed at the wide-eyed oath. “I know we can, son. Now you take this owner's manual and read it, cover to cover.”

“Yes, sir,” Robby said enthusiastically.

He handed Gabe the rifle and took the booklet. Before he returned to his chair, he had the cover open and was studying the first page. Gabe returned the rifle to its box and looked at Jane. She was smiling. She mouthed the words “thank you.”

Gabe nodded at her and closed the box. He slid it under the couch. “I guess I'd better get home,” he said.

“You're welcome to the couch again,” Jane said.

“I don't know. I think it might be better if I go home tonight.”

“As you wish. I'll walk you out.”

“Robby, you wait until I get here to get that rifle out, all right?” Gabe said.

“I will, Mr. Horne,” Robby said excitedly. “What time will you be here?”

“I'll come for breakfast if your mom will have me.”

“You're welcome any time, Gabe. You know that,” Jane said.

Once out the door, Jane reached for Gabe's hand. The press of her flesh onto his gave him goose bumps. They walked silently to his truck. He opened the door of the old Chevy and then turned to face her. Leaning down, he kissed her, and time seemed to slow down until their lips finally parted.

“I love you, Gabriel Horne,” Jane said softly.

“I . . .” Gabe began, but something stopped the next three words. “ . . . better get home,” he said instead.

* * *

DJ lay in the guest bed staring up at the ceiling that he couldn't see in the dark. He was weighing the risks versus the benefits of staying at Crystal's. The benefits—or at least the potential benefits—were obvious. He'd known he would probably move on at some point, but the promise of hooking up with Crystal, along with the ability to get more gas in town, had kept him hanging around.

But now he realized he needed to get the hell out of Dodge. If those two thieves really were related to the sheriff, it was only a matter of time before someone else came around asking questions, and next time, it might not be some overweight, undertrained, reserve deputy.

DJ thought about his retreat. Would the group be there? Did they still even own it? He'd heard that they had put it up for sale. It really didn't matter. He knew his stuff was still buried. No one but he knew where it was, and if he did find them there, they'd most likely be very happy to see him, considering the circumstances. In fact, if anyone should be holding a grudge, it should be him. He had started the group, found the property, and organized them.

He figured he had enough gas to get at least two-thirds of the way there. He'd have to siphon what they'd bought in town out of Crystal's car. Whatever he couldn't get out would probably leave enough for her to get back to town for some more. He was sure he could scrounge up another five or six gallons along the way to complete his trip. He made a mental note to take a siphon hose with him.

He was disappointed he hadn't made the progress with Crystal that he'd hoped. If he had another week, who knows what might have happened? As he thought about it, he started to get angry. Who was he kidding? That bitch was probably never going to put out. She was more than likely just stringing him along to keep him around.

Maybe he just should take what he wanted. After all, he had saved her from a fate much worse than that, probably twice. If his quad hadn't been there for the rednecks to take, who knows what they might have done? She owed him. He had not only protected her and her daughter, but helped out around the place and had bought food for them. If he tore a little piece off as repayment, who would it really hurt?

No, I can't do that. If I did, I wouldn't be any better than those gangbangers. I'll just leave tomorrow night once it gets dark.

* * *

Gabe was kicking himself for what he'd almost said. He did have feelings for Jane, but he still loved Hannah. He picked up the picture of her and Michael, the one he'd taken at the beach. Her eyes told him that she would love him forever, no matter what happened. He just couldn't do this to her.

He'd been stupid, sneaking around like some teenager with his first crush. He would end it tomorrow. Jane would be upset with him, but it had to be done. He appreciated how she and Robby had befriended him and how they'd worked together for the whole neighborhood's benefit. However, that was as much as he could give. If she couldn't accept that, well, it didn't really matter. That's just the way it had to be.

Gabe gently placed the picture back in place. It struck him as odd that looking at it this time hadn't left a burning hole in his guts.