Quietly they carried their bags downstairs and set them by the front door so they could grab them on the way out. Goss's veins were burning with adrenaline. A couple of bodies; a credit card charge that might not lead directly back to Faulkner, but a smart cop would eventually dig deep enough to find him; and a botched job for Bandini... the setup couldn't get any sweeter than this. And Toxtel's finger, not his own, was on the trigger. Even if he got caught up in the heat, he could plea-bargain, give up Toxtel, and be a free man in a few years. He'd have to change his name and disappear again, but that was no big deal. He was tired of being Kennon Goss.
Signaling for Goss to take his back, weapon in his hand, Toxtel pushed open the kitchen door. "Sorry to do it this way, ladies," he said calmly, "but you have something we want, Ms. Nightingale."
Cate froze, a spoonful of cookie dough in her hand. The older, suit-clad man stood just inside the door, an ugly black weapon in his hand. The only thought that sprang into her mind was a desperate prayer: God, please don't let Mom and the boys come back right now!
Neenah's face washed while, and she, too, was frozen, with the teacup still in her hand.
"W-what?" Cate stammered.
"The stuff Layton left here. We want it. Give it to us and there won't be any problem."
Cate felt as if her brain were mired in quicksand. Sheer disbelief that this was actually happening made her shake her head.
"I think you will," Mellor said softly. The weapon in his hand hadn't wavered, and it was pointing right at her head. She could see the black hole of the barrel.
"No, I didn't mean" - she swallowed - "of course - "
"Someone's coming" came a soft call, and she thought she would faint. Dear God, dear God, please don't let it be Mom and the boys-"A guy in an old truck."
"See who it is," Mellor snapped, shifting the weapon so it pointed at Neenah, "and get rid of him."
Cate turned her head as she heard tires crunching on gravel outside the kitchen window. She recognized the truck, and the lanky figure crawling out of it. Relief was just as overwhelming as panic had been. She dropped the spoon into the bowl and grabbed the edge of the table as her knees threatened to buckle. "It - it's the handyman."
"Why's he here?"
For a moment she drew a blank; then she gave herself another little shake. "The mail. He's here for the mail. He's going into town."
Mellor reached out and grabbed Neenah by the collar of her shirt, dragging her out of the chair and out into the hall. "Get rid of him," he warned Cate again as steps sounded on the wooden porch, then the knock on the kitchen door. Mellor pulled the hallway kitchen door almost shut.
Her scalp was prickling with fear and she thought her hair must be standing on end, but she had to keep it together or that man would kill Neenah, she knew he would. He might kill both of them anyway, just for the fun of it, or to eliminate witnesses who could identify them. They needed help, but with Mellor standing there listening to everything she said, she didn't know what she could do, how she could alert Mr. Harris without alerting Mellor.
Trying to school her face to blankness, she opened the door.
"I'm on my way to town," Mr. Harris mumbled, looking down as his cheeks started coloring. "You have your mail ready?"
"I'll need to put postage on," she said, fighting to keep her voice from trembling. "It won't take but a minute." She didn't invite him in as she usually did, but dashed into the hallway where her desk was stationed by the stairway. Mellor jerked Neenah out of the way, keeping the barrel of his gun jammed against her temple. Out of the corner of her eye, Cate saw the other man, Huxley, stationed at the front door.
With shaking hands, Cate grabbed the four bills and hurriedly stuck stamps on them, then dashed back out. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said as she handed the envelopes out the door to Mr. Harris.
He looked down at the envelopes, his dirty-blond hair falling over his eyes, and he shuffled them in his hands. "No problem," he said. "I'll bring that new lock by when I get back." Then he turned and went down the steps, climbed into his truck, and backed out of the driveway.
Cate closed the door, leaning her head against the frame. He hadn't noticed anything. There went her hope for help.
"That was good," Mellor said, opening the hallway door wider. "Now where is Layton's stuff?"
She turned around, sucking in quick little gasps of air as distress constricted her lungs. He had shifted his grip to Neenah's hair, holding her head pulled back at an unnatural angle and keeping her off-balance, unable to help herself. Neenah was gasping for breath, too, her mouth open, her eyes wide with horror.
Cate tried to think, tried to marshal her turgid brain into action. Which was best, to delay or to give them what they wanted and hope they would just leave? But if she delayed, what would that gain them? Any delay would only increase the chances that her mother and children would walk right into the middle of this, and she would do anything, anything, to prevent that from happening.
"Up - upstairs," she gasped. "In the attic."
Mellor pulled Neenah back, gesturing with his head. "Show us."
Her knees were trembling so violently Cate could barely walk, much less climb the stairs, and the terrified glance she shot behind her at Neenah told her Neenah wasn't in any better shape. Her friend was very quiet, not making a sound other than the panicked rasping of her breath, but she was visibly shaking.
Cate grasped the railing and hauled herself up, willing her legs to carry her. The staircase had never seemed so steep, or so high. The Victorian house had twelve-foot ceilings, so the stairs were higher than usual, and every one was an effort as she concentrated on not falling. "Hurry," the man behind her growled, shoving Neenah forward so that she hit Cate's legs and they both stumbled.