The Last Day

SEVENTY-ONE

Ward sat holding the gun in one hand and Natasha's hand in the other. Alice was seated with her legs bent under her, playing an electronic game in a chair to one side of them, her face illuminated by the small screen. She was absorbed in the whistles and beeps. Leslie sat with her ankles crossed on the ottoman in front of her chair, ab-sently tapping the blade of the butcher knife on her thigh. She was glaring at Alice.

“I should take a walk around and check the doors,” Ward said.

“Take the gun,” Natasha told him.

“You keep it,” he said.

“No, I insist,” Natasha said. “It freaks me out.”

He walked through the kitchen to the garage door. Turning on the light inside the garage, he stared out at the vehicle closest to himNatasha's Lexus-and his heart sank when he noticed that the two tires he could see were flat. Gismano had flattened the tires of the vehicles. If they had already been flat when Todd had slipped out, neither had noticed in the dark.

“Shit,” he said.

“What is it?” Natasha said, startling him. She had come up behind him.

“Nothing,” he said, flipping off the light. He led her back to the kitchen.

“Obviously it isn't nothing,” she insisted.

“I was just looking at the cars. Silly since the driveway is blocked. That's all.”

“That isn't all,” she said. “I know you, Ward. What else?”

“He punctured the tires of your Lexus, probably all three cars. I couldn't see the Beemer or the Toyota's tires, but I assume he got them as well.”

“We have to get Alice and Leslie out of here. They aren't involved in this,” Natasha said. “It isn't fair for them to be in danger. It isn't fair for you to be either.”

“I'm with you about them, but I'm sticking with you. He's our problem, and with Todd's help we'll get through this. And I do have a gun. That's an edge. Isn't it?”

“One thing,” Natasha said. “He got into the garage, and we know he's gotten into the house before. So, can't he do it again?”

John Ramsey Miller

The Last Day