BooksBarbecue
Back The Runaway
Chapters (80)
  1. Cover
  2. TITLES BY NICK PETRIE
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. 64
  69. 65
  70. 66
  71. 67
  72. 68
  73. 69
  74. 70
  75. 71
  76. 72
  77. 73
  78. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  79. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  80. What’s next onyour reading list?

Through the frame, he had a clear view of the room and the people inside, arrayed as if in a tragic play. At the center against the far wall was a blood-soaked couch with a crumpled body on it. To the right of the couch, a fat man with a mustache cowered in an easy chair, his arms apparently restrained behind him. Peter only had a partial view of Roy in the near left corner with a big automatic held down along his right thigh. Whether by instinct or design, Roy’s sheltered position both gave him a clear line of fire on the rest of the room and took away any decent firing angle from someone standing outside.

In the middle of the human triangle, by the left side of the couch, Helene stood with a black revolver in one hand, aimed awkwardly at the fat man.

Peter’s heart sunk.

“Like this?” she asked, and made a half pivot toward Roy. The gun was still pointed toward the fat man. She wore a madwoman’s smile.

Don’t do it, Peter wanted to say. Wanted to shout. But that wouldn’t help her.

He could fire through the wall and have a decent chance of hitting Roy, even though the bullet would be slowed by the building. But Helene was directly opposite. He couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t harm her or the child in her belly.

Instead he crept backward into the unmown grass. All he needed was a running start. He would launch himself over the windowsill and into the room, where he could empty his pistol into Roy. And hope that Helene wouldn’t empty hers into him.

He stood and set his feet and began to sprint. Immediately he knew that his left knee was very bad. Three steps to go, then two. The knee gave way. He caught himself with the right leg and pushed off hard.

He didn’t make it as far as he’d planned. The sill caught him at the tops of his thighs. The remaining glass in the frame bit through his pants into his skin. He curled himself forward and fell into the room, scrambling to his side to bring his gun to bear.

But he knew he was too late.

71

Already half turned toward Roy, Helene completed the pivot, no longer awkward as she straightened her arm to find her new target and brought her other hand to the butt of the revolver as if she’d done it a thousand times. With her smile turned electric, she pulled the trigger and shot Roy high in the left breast and again just below the sternum.

Roy’s eyes widened and he began to raise his pistol.

Laying on his side on the floor, Peter got his finger inside the trigger guard and began to take up the slack, but Helene ran to Roy and collided with him.