Knock Out

54

WHEN ETHAN WOKE UP, for one terrifying moment he didn’t know who he was. He only knew he wasn’t where he had been, and he was now someplace different, someplace he didn’t recognize.

Memory flooded back. He was Ethan Merriweather, and he’d been—away. He felt a spurt of fear, then forced himself to think, to remember. He had a rip-roaring headache, and it pounded so hard it was difficult to focus, but he did, and he remembered. He saw himself at the campsite in Titus Hitch Wilderness, remembered whirling about, bringing his Remington up fast to shoot Blessed but not fast enough. Blessed had gotten to him. How much time had passed? What had Blessed made him do? Something inside him didn’t want to know.

He saw sunlight coming around the edges of the draperies. That meant it was daylight, but how late? He knew he’d slept and awakened back into himself. So what did that mean? Blessed couldn’t hold him beyond a certain number of hours? Sleeping broke the hypnosis, or whatever it was?

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 last, 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 lake 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?”

“Yeah.”

“Get him some aspirin, Blessed.”

“Let him suffer, I don’t have—”

Autumn did it again, the too-fast breathing, a single pathetic hiccup, and Blessed sighed. “All right, Autumn. You just stay still, all right?”

“I won’t move,” she said to Blessed. She stroked Ethan’s hand.

The kid was playing him. Good. She wound her skinny arms around Ethan’s neck, and he whispered against her cheek, “You’re on a roll, kiddo, but be careful, all right? Blessed isn’t stupid.”

He felt her nod. When Blessed came back, she straightened and said, “You’ve got to untie him so he can take the aspirin.”

Ethan groaned. Unlike Autumn, he wasn’t faking.

He felt the pull of Blessed’s fingers as he worked the knots at his wrists. Soon they fell away, not that it mattered much since he couldn’t feel his hands. Ethan slowly brought his arms in front of him and began rubbing his hands together, then shaking them. Slowly, they started to tingle and he began to feel them again. His fingers throbbed and ached, but it didn’t bother him all that much because his head was about to explode.

“Don’t even think about coming after me, Sheriff. I won’t let you live next time. Here’s your aspirin.”

Come after him? As if he could, since his feet were tied. Ethan took the aspirin and dry-swallowed them. He looked at his watch. Eleven o’clock in the morning. But what morning?

“What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

Okay, good. He’d slept a few hours at most. He closed his eyes and sat very still, waited for the aspirin to do something good.

Autumn said, “I want you to untie my mama too.”

A beat of silence, then Blessed’s voice, irritated now: “No, the bitch stays—”

Autumn screamed at him, “My mama’s not a bitch! Don’t you dare call her that, ever again!” She sounded wild and out of control. She flew at him, hitting him again and again. Ethan heard Blessed curse under his breath, heard him say, “All right all right, I’ll untie her. Calm down, stop acting crazy, you hear me?”

Acting crazy?

Autumn sobbed again, whispering through her tears, “Untie my mama.”

Ethan thought the kid should be in the movies.

Blessed tried to sound tough, but he fell short to Ethan’s ears. “Maybe I will, but if she tries anything, she goes away again. I mean it.”

“Just untie her.”

He heard Joanna moan.

“Don’t you stymie her, Blessed!”

Ethan said, his eyes still closed, “Get her some aspirin, Blessed; she’ll need it bad.”

A minute later, Autumn said, “Here, Mama, here’s some aspirin. I got you some water so you don’t have to choke them down like poor Ethan.”

Joanna let her put the aspirin in her mouth and the glass to her lips.

“Untie her, Blessed.”

Blessed, looking harassed, untied her hands.

“Mama, let me rub your hands for you. That’s better, isn’t it? Ethan? Are you feeling better yet?”

“Yes,” he said, and surprisingly, he was. “Joanna?”

“I’m here, Ethan.” Ethan felt the chair move, and knew Joanna had picked Autumn up and was rocking her.

He heard Blessed walking toward him. He didn’t look up, which was stupid, really. He looked down at Blessed’s boots. He had small feet for a man. Ethan said, “Your boots are dirty, Blessed.”

“Yeah? Well, you should see yourself, Sheriff, and the—woman.”

Ethan knew Autumn was opening her mouth to blast him. Blessed had made a fast save. Ethan said, “What happens now, Blessed?”