Thirty-Six and a Half Motives
Page 21

My nerves were getting the better of me again. I suspected Merv wasn’t going to be as gung-ho about this plan as his boss seemed to be.
I pushed the door open enough to see Merv sitting on toilet with a blood-soaked towel pressed to his leg. His phone was on the counter, its illuminated screen the only light in the small room.
“Merv,” I said, stuffing my arm into my coat sleeve, “Skeeter wants you to give me your Glock.”
“You’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead fingers if I don’t hear it from the man himself.”
A second later, the hold tone sounded in my ear and the phone on the counter began to bounce around.
Merv scowled as he answered. He didn’t say anything, but I could hear Skeeter’s voice yelling in Merv’s ear.
“Got it,” Merv said, then immediately hung up, smacking the phone on the counter. He pulled a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at me.
“Do you have it?” Skeeter asked in my ear as I slid my other arm into the coat.
I stared down the barrel of Merv’s Glock, then lifted my gaze to meet his angry eyes. Surely he wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot me while his boss was on the line, listening to his every move. I took a breath to steady my nerves and held out my hand.
“Do you have the gun?” Skeeter repeated, sounding pissed. “Is Merv giving you trouble?”
I reached up and switched off the microphone, keeping my thumb and finger on the switch. “Skeeter’s on my phone right now,” I said quietly. “And he’s asking if you’ve given me the gun. I’d like to keep this disagreement between us, but I’m going to turn the microphone back on now.”
I slid the switch and extended my hand again. Merv’s grip tightened on the weapon, and his scowl deepened before he let out a grunt. He turned the gun around and handed it to me, with the barrel pointed toward the ground.
“Rose!” Skeeter barked.
“I have it,” I said, taking the gun and pulling out the clip to look at the shells inside. After setting the clip back into place, I stuffed the weapon into my right coat pocket. “I’m ready.”
I spun around and used to the key to open the padlock securing the door to the spiral staircase that led up to the roof. At the last minute I remembered that Bruce Wayne kept a flashlight by the fuse box, also hidden here, since the power had gone out so much during the first few weeks of our tenancy. I switched the flashlight on and shined it into the closet-sized room.
“What the hell is goin’ on over there?” Skeeter demanded. “Give me an update.”
“I found a flashlight,” I said, exasperated, but then a new terror hit me. “Oh, mercy. After Merv locks the door, I’m gonna be trapped up there.”
More gunshots filled the square outside, followed by several shouts and screams.
“I’ll come get you,” Skeeter barked. “Go. Now. Simmons is making his move. Tell Merv to be ready.”
I started to say something, but Merv grunted, “Get goin’.”
I stepped into the room, and Merv shut the door behind me. Fear almost crippled me as I heard the clink of the padlock locking into place. Memories of all the times my mother had locked me in a closet—a small, dark space like this one—as punishment for one of my visions came rushing back. I started breathing heavily as I stepped onto the first tread.
“Rose, talk to me,” Skeeter said in a tight, low voice. “What’s goin’ on?”
I could give into my fear—and let Sam Teagen or whoever was coming for me hear me hyperventilating in the staircase—or I could keep going. I was pretty sure the wooden door wouldn’t stop any bullets. Which meant I needed to get control of my nerves and get up on the roof. “I’m fine. I had to take a moment.”
“You don’t have a moment, Lady. Go.”
I knew he couldn’t see me, but I nodded anyway. “I’m goin’.”
I hurried up the two flights of stairs, trying to tread lightly so no one could hear me.
“I’m at the top,” I whispered, shining the flashlight at the flat door over my head. Holding the flashlight in place with my shoulder, I climbed up the metal rungs that had been set into the concrete wall until I reached the door. I struggled to get the key to turn in the padlock, not surprising since I was sure it hadn’t been opened in several years, but it finally turned with a rusty creak. I pulled off the lock and pushed up on the door, trying not to let it bang onto the roof as it dropped open.
The cold night air struck me in the face as I climbed out of the stairway, making me grateful I’d thought to grab my coat. Staying in a crouch, I flipped the door back over, then cringed when I heard more gunshots.
“Rose!” Skeeter shouted in my ear.
“I’m here,” I said as I stuck the padlock into the pocket that held the Taser.
“Did I hear more gunshots?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you see what’s going on?”
“Let me get to the side of the roof.”
“Keep your head down.”
“I’m not stupid enough to let anyone see me,” I grumped as I crawled on hands and knees to the edge.
“I’m more worried about stray bullets.”
“Oh, yeah.” I realized with a jolt that Joe was down there in the melee. I had to make sure he wasn’t hurt. The ledge around the edge of the roof was less than three feet tall, so I stayed as flat to the ground as possible.
“The Henryetta police are hiding behind their open car doors.” Officer Ernie’s arm jutted out over the door’s hinges, his gun pointed at the front of my office.
That was a bad sign.
“And where are the sheriff’s deputies?” Skeeter asked.
“I don’t see them.”
“You mean they’re hiding so well that you can’t see them?”
“No, most of the sheriff cars are gone. There’s no sign of Joe.”
“He’s makin’ his move. Do you see anything else?”
I peered around the square, my stomach in knots. “No. Nothing.”
“Make your way to the back of the building and check out the alley. Stay down. Simmons Sr. is gonna be a lot more sly then all them boys on the ground put together.”
That’s exactly what I was afraid of. I crawled across the roof, tiny scattered pebbles digging into my palms. When I got to the edge, I peered down into the alley. “I don’t see anything.”