When She Was Bad

5

Pender took advantage of the whispered conference between Max and Lilith long enough to shake out his left arm, which had gone all pins and needles. The conference ended with Max nodding his head. Pender resumed his position, half-crouched, with his forearms resting on the roof of the car.

“Much as I hate to break up the party,” said Max, “my partner here has suggested it may be time for us to make a strategic withdrawal. But keep in mind, you two-this is a postponement of our final reckoning, not a cancellation. Someday there will come a knock on your door or a tap on your window-”

“Can the Snidely Whiplash act,” Pender broke in. “No point acting tough when you’re hiding behind a woman.”

But Max and Lily had already begun sidling to their left, toward the mule, which was parked facing the cabin. They circled around to the passenger’s side. Lily climbed up to the raised bench seat ahead of Maxwell, then slid over behind the wheel, keeping her body between Max and Pender.

“Lilith,” called Irene. “Lilith, stop-take a moment to think this over.”

Lily who’d been driving the mule since she was twelve, was busily pretending to study the rudimentary dashboard. (She’d told Max earlier that she’d seen another route out of the canyon on the USGS map; when he’d asked her if she could figure out how to operate the mule, she’d told him if she could drive a Harley, she could drive anything.)

“I have thought it over,” she called down from the cab, then pressed the starter button with her thumb and opened the choke wide. “And this is the best way for everybody.” Then, with her back turned to Max, she mouthed the words I love you to Irene.

The engine back-farted bluish smoke, then sputtered to life as she gingerly fed it gas. The mule shuddered and puffed until she’d turned down the choke, then waited, trembling-pocketapocketapocketa-while she released the floor-mounted hand brake.

Expertly, she depressed the clutch and shifted into reverse, leaning out of the cab and glancing over her shoulder as she steered the mule backward. She cut the steering hard, guided the narrow, ten-foot-long vehicle through a tight backward turn, then shifted out of reverse and gunned the mule up the dirt track and into the cover of the trees before Maxwell could get off a clear shot.

“That was Lily,” said Irene. “Dear God, that was Lily.”

“It’s getting so you can’t tell the players without a scorecard,” Pender muttered under his breath as he slid behind the wheel of the Infiniti. He turned to Irene as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Keys?” he said, extending his hand toward her, palm up.