Toxtel nodded, his face taking on that narrow-eyed, set expression that said he was committing himself to a course of action. This would take money, Goss thought, and more people. He and Toxtel couldn't handle this on their own. And they'd also need someone who knew the area and the type of people they'd be up against. Goss knew his limitations. He was at home on concrete, not dirt. Put him out here against some yahoo who was used to deer hunting and crap like that, and who probably had an entire wardrobe of camouflage clothing, and he'd be severely disadvantaged. His biggest asset was his brain, so he intended to use it.
"We'd have to make certain all the guests at the B and B were gone," he muttered, thinking aloud. "People would be expecting them back, expecting them to call in, something."
"How would we know that?"
"Someone will have to go in and check, someone local - or at least someone who won't look suspicious."
Toxtel started the engine and put the vehicle in gear. "I know someone I can call."
"You know people here?"
"No, but I know someone who knows someone, if you get my drift."
Goss got it. He leaned his aching head back against the headrest, then winced at the pressure and instead eased sideways until he could lean against the side window. The glass was cool, and gave him a tiny bit of relief. He closed his eyes. They didn't want to rush into anything; they'd take the time to think things over, hammer out the details. He dozed off imagining tick marks placed beside items on a list: power lines cut, check; telephone service out, check; bridge blocked, check; breaking that bastard handyman's neck, check. Just like counting sheep, only better.
Chapter 10
The house was full of locals, all wanting to know what had happened. Almost automatically Cate put on coffee and began serving it. but Sheila looked at her daughter's tense expression and firmly said, "Sit. People can serve themselves."
Cate sat. Tucker and Tanner were in the dining room, too; she normally didn't allow them in when customers were there, but this was different. This was neighbors gathering in a time of trouble, not customers. She watched the boys' expressions, trying to see if they were picking up on any of the undercurrents. They were excited, but that was all. When they'd asked Calvin why he had the gun, he said there'd been a snake in the attic and he'd had to get rid of it. Naturally they were fascinated by both the shotgun and the snake, demanding to see both, and they'd been disappointed that the snake was gone. As far as they were concerned, all this talk and excitement was over the snake - and Cate supposed the) weren't wrong. The) just didn't know the snake had been human. Now they were right in the middle of things, their gazes ping-ponging from person to person as the situation was discussed.
"You should have held them until the rest of us could get here," Roy Edward Starkey groused to Cal. He was eighty-seven, and his opinions often reflected a time when interlopers who dared harm one of the town's own would have been strung from the nearest tree.
"Seemed smarter to give them what they wanted and get them out of here before someone got hurt," Cal said calmly.
"We need to call the sheriff," said Milly Earl.
"Yeah, but I'm the one most likely to be arrested," Cal pointed out. "I hit one of them on the head."
"I agree with Milly," put in Neenah. "We have to call the police right away. I'm not hurt, but I was scared half to death."
"Did the snake almost bite you?" Tucker asked, going to her and leaning against her legs. His big blue eyes were round with excitement.
"It came close," she said gravely, brushing a hand over his dark hair. Tanner leaned close, too, never taking his gaze from her face, and he also received one of those gentle caresses.
"Wow," Tucker breathed. "And Mr. Hawwis saved you?"
"He did."
"With the shotgun," Tanner prompted, sotto voce, when she didn't continue.
"Yes, he saved me with the shotgun."
Roy Edward looked down at the boys, distracted by their alikeness, and asked of no one in particular, "Which one's which?"
"That's easy," Walter Earl said with a laugh. "If one of them has his mouth open talking, that's Tucker."
Everyone in the room chuckled, and the atmosphere relaxed a little.
Cate's heart ached with love, and a fierce sense of protectiveness welled inside her. They were so little, their heads craned upward as they tried to catch every word in a room full of chattering adults. They were just four, and the big accomplishment in their lives right now was learning how to dress themselves. They were completely dependent on her for their safety and well-being. She turned to Sheila and said, "I want you to leave tomorrow, and take them with you. Keep them until this all dies down."
Sheila reached for her hand, squeezing. "Do you think they'll come back?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. She'd been quiet since returning from the walk with her grandchildren to find her daughter had been held at gunpoint, and belatedly Cate realized Sheila was feeling her own sense of protectiveness.
"I'm terrified," she admitted. "But why would they come back? They don't have am reason to, since I gave them the suitcase, and I know this is probably nothing more than reaction to the shock, but I'll feel better if you have the boys safe. The most awful thing about the whole situation was thinking that the three of yon could have walked into the middle of things." She fell sick to her stomach all over again, the remembered terror almost as debilitating as it had been while the situation was happening. "I don't know what I'd have done - " Her voice broke and she clenched her jaw to control the tears that hovered just on the edge of breaking free.