Side by Side

53

Winter Massey sped to the clinic, darted from the truck, swung open the pole gate, and parked his truck on the lot. Still wearing the camo coat, he sprinted down the steps, crossed the bridge over the creek, unlocked the front door, and hurried to disarm the alarm system. He ran back to the lockup ward, opened the door, and flipped the light on in Click’s cell right before unlocking and jerking it open.

Click was wedged in a corner, frozen, his blank eyes as wide open as his mouth.

He looked up at Winter and started crying. “I’m soooo sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you. I’ll take you to find them. .”

“Tell me where they are,” Winter said, kneeling beside the sobbing boy.

Click put his hands on Winter’s forearms and squeezed. “And you’ll. . you’ll let me go? You. . prom. . prom. . ise?”

“Tell me where Lucy and her son are, and I will take you out of here. Show me where they are. As soon as I have them, you’re as free as a bird. Word of honor.”

Winter lifted Click to his feet. He felt a sharp pang of remorse when he realized that the kid had urinated on himself. Winter led him out of the padded room and down the long hallway. They stopped at the counter just long enough for Click to blow his nose and tell Winter how to find the land in South Carolina where the Dockerys were almost certainly being held. Winter gave Click a sheet of clear plastic from the floor to keep him dry on their walk to the truck. Turning off the lights, he set the alarm, after which, he led Click though the door, closed and locked it. Reflexively, Winter checked out the route up the slope, holding Click by his left arm to support him and to make sure he didn’t try anything. The kid might have lied to Winter about the location, figuring it would be a while before his deception was discovered. Click was extremely intelligent and crooked as a sow’s tail.

“So, tell me the truth, are you a cop?” Click asked him as they walked.

“I used to be.”

“Ever really killed anybody?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll really let me go?”

“As soon as I know for sure you’ve told me the truth.”

Winter opened the truck door and let Click climb in, crossing the console and buckling his belt before he followed him in. He cranked the truck and started out.

“They’ll kill me if they find out it was me,” Click said. “Kin or not. I’m breaking the code.”

“I won’t tell them,” Winter said.

“How many people you taking in there?”

“Just me.”

“In that case, if they don’t kill you outright, you’ll tell them I did.”

“You can tell them you knew they’d kill me so you tricked me into coming to them.”

Click was silent a moment. Then he said, “You said I could go free.”

“You will. But while I’m getting the Dockerys, you’re going to be cuffed to my steering wheel.”

Click looked down at the floor. Winter raced down the winding driveway.

“So, knowing that,” he told the kid, “you maybe want to make any amendments to the directions you just gave me?”

Winter came around the final bend and saw that the heavy yellow pole was back in place. His gut twisted because he’d intentionally left it standing open.

“Duck!” he yelled, flooring the accelerator. He cut the wheel at the last second, aiming at the boxwoods between the security pole’s upright steel post and the sign kiosk. He saw a head rise above the shrubs, and he ducked lower just as the automatic weapons opened up. He felt the impact as the truck exploded through the shrubbery and caught the shooter behind it, punting the man’s body in a high arc. Winter’s tires bounced as he ran over the assailant’s body. He jerked the wheel and skidded sideways, straightening as the automatic weapons shattered the rear windshield and then the front one.

“Shee-at,” Click said, straightening to peer over his shoulder.

“Down!” Winter yelled. There was a sound like a bottle of cola being dropped. The back tires went flat and what remained of the front windshield was peppered with gore as Click folded at the waist. The truck crested the hill.

They would be coming after them.

He didn’t have to look at the gauges to know the truck was mortally wounded. He smelled the radiator fluid, and it was all he could do to hold the truck in the road with two flat tires that would be sliced off the rims in a matter of seconds. He turned onto a narrow county road, waited until he saw the headlights swing onto the road behind him, then he jammed the accelerator and aimed the truck at the tree line beyond the ditch.

Winter’s truck went into the ditch, came up the other side, and went airborne. Tumbling, it finally stopped on its left side in the muddy field, its headlights illuminating the scraggly trees fifty yards ahead.