A Creed in Stone Creek Part 35

"About us, dammit," Steven said.

Her voice was sugar-sweet. "And what 'us' would that be?"

Exasperated, Steven gestured toward the gas pump. "Maybe you've noticed that that thing isn't working," he told her.

She sighed, sounding put-upon. "I guess I'll have to go inside to pay," she answered. "Get Martine to flip the switch."

With that, she walked away, moving toward the gla.s.s doors of the entrance at an impressive clip.

Steven followed, double-stepping to catch up. "I can't stop thinking about you," he was surprised-and mortified-to hear himself say.

Melissa favored him with a winning smile, waited while he held one of the doors for her, and whispered, "Try a little harder, then."

She was inside in the next moment, Steven right behind her.

"There has to be a way around this lawyer thing," he whispered back, nearly colliding with Melissa when she stopped abruptly.

The store was silent, and yet the air seemed to vibrate.

Martine was indeed behind the counter, and Nathan Carter was right beside her, with the barrel of a pistol pressed up hard under her fleshy chin. Her eyes were round with fear and they flitted between Steven and Melissa, begging for help.

Steven acted instinctively; caught Melissa by one arm and fairly threw her behind him.

"Put the gun down," he told Nathan, his voice calm.

Melissa was back, and she tried to edge around him, but, with one arm, he eased her behind him again.

Carter merely c.o.c.ked the pistol, a flashy move, like he'd watched a lot of old Westerns on TV or something, and then practiced endlessly.

Oddly, it struck Steven then, and certainly not for the first time, that if criminals put the same effort into honest work as they did taking illegal shortcuts, they wouldn't need to turn to crime.

Martine made a small, whimperlike sound. "The armored car service came today," she said weakly, her eyes awash in tears now, "picked up most of the cash we had on hand. All I have is a couple hundred dollars, so I can make change."

"Shut up," Carter rasped, poking Martine harder with the gun.

"Easy," Steven said, in a tone he usually reserved for spooked horses and unfriendly dogs. "You don't want the kind of trouble you'll be in if Martine gets hurt. Believe me, you don't."

Carter was sweating, and his pupils seemed to be spiraling in the centers of his eyes. He was high, or drunk, maybe both. Very bad news. Drugs, alcohol and stupidity didn't make a good combination.

"She's lying about the money," the thief growled. "She won't tell me where the money is!"

"I just have what's right here in the till," Martine insisted, in a frantic squeak. "We've been selling a lot of gas and beer and soda and stuff, with all these people in town for the parade and the rodeo, and the boss wanted most of the money in the bank-"

"I told told you to shut up," Carter said. Then, quicker than Steven would have thought anybody could move, especially when they were stoned, he turned the pistol in his hand and used the b.u.t.t of it to whack Martine hard in the side of the head. you to shut up," Carter said. Then, quicker than Steven would have thought anybody could move, especially when they were stoned, he turned the pistol in his hand and used the b.u.t.t of it to whack Martine hard in the side of the head.

The sound was like a baseball bat striking a water-melon.

Melissa screamed, more in objection than fright.

And Steven pitched himself over the counter at Carter, who, in that split second, was fumbling with the weapon.

A shot ripped through the air, shattered the gla.s.s in the front window.

The alarm began to shriek.

Steven landed on Carter and they both went down, in a tangle, not far from where Martine lay, perfectly still and bleeding.

The quarters were close behind that counter. Carter still had the gun-Steven could feel it pressed sideways between him and his adversary, knew the other man was groping for the trigger, and if he managed to get a finger around it- Sirens sounded in the distance-too far far in the distance. in the distance.

The struggle for control of the gun seemed never-ending, although it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds. When the pistol went off, Steven froze, waiting for the bullet to tear through him.

But it was Carter who'd been hit.

He looked up at Steven, smirked and then closed his eyes.

Steven raised himself slowly, got as far as his knees, then took the gun from the dead man's fingers-there was blood everywhere by then, some of it Carter's, some of it Martine's.

Melissa scrambled, half crawling, around the base of the counter, her eyes huge, her face chalk-white. Her gaze found Steven, clung to him for a fraction of a moment, skittered over Nathan Carter and fixed itself on Martine, who was beginning to stir. Moaning a little.

"Are you hit?" Melissa asked. And when she didn't get an answer in the next second, she repeated, "Steven, are you hit?" "Steven, are you hit?"

"No," he said. The b.l.o.o.d.y pistol made a thunking sound as he reached up and set it on the counter.

She wriggled past him, and Carter, to reach Martine. "Hold on," she murmured to the other woman. "Please, hold on. Help is coming. Do you hear the sirens? You're all right now, you're safe-"

The sirens were louder.

Closer.

Steven hauled himself to his feet, dazed.

Flashing lights swiped at the windows, a slap of red, a slap of blue.

He blinked.

Melissa was still on the floor, trying to comfort Martine.

Tom Parker burst in, gun drawn, still wearing his fancy parade uniform. "What the h.e.l.l-?" he said.

"You can holster that thing," Steven told him, in a remarkably calm voice. "The shooting is over."

Tom hesitated as two deputies piled in behind him, their own service revolvers out and ready.

Tom raised a hand, evidently a signal that any immediate danger was past, and ordered, "Tell the EMTs it's okay to come in, and make sure-make d.a.m.n sure d.a.m.n sure-n.o.body else sets foot in here. I don't want this scene messed up."

The deputies obeyed.

Things had been happening at warp speed right along, but now time seemed to move even faster.

The EMTs appeared.

Steven took Melissa's hand, and pulled her out from behind the counter, held her close while the medics worked to stabilize Martine.

"I'm all right," Martine said, over and over again.

Steven tightened his arms around Melissa when she began to cry.

Martine was carried out on a stretcher, and loaded into a waiting ambulance.

Tom rounded the end of the counter to look down at Nathan Carter, who was so obviously dead that the paramedics hadn't bothered with him.

"What happened?" Tom asked, in the thunderous silence.

Outside, the world was still a noisy place, a thrumming void, threaded through with panicked shouts and carnival music and the screech of tires on asphalt as the ambulance sped away. Instead, that store was like the bottom of a lake. Or an ocean.

Melissa buried her face in Steven's shirt, avoiding the blood for the most part, and trembled against his chest.

Slowly, Steven recounted what had happened.

The State Police arrived, along with their crime scene techs. The store was secured, and Tom told Melissa and Steven to go on home, because there was nothing more to be done here.

"You can't let Matt see you with blood all over your clothes," Melissa said, when they were outside in the warm night.

The statement rea.s.sured Steven that she was all right. She was coming back to herself. Back to him.

"I know," he said, weary to the core of his soul.

Bystanders shouted questions to them, questions Melissa fielded with an upraised palm and, "Tom will make an announcement when that's appropriate. In the meantime, I hope you'll all cooperate and let the authorities complete their investigation with no interruptions."

"Is Martine gonna make it?" someone called out.

"Yes," Melissa said, her arm around Steven, just as his was around her.

He wasn't sure who was supporting whom.

The roadster was still parked at the pumps, its paint job shining under the outside lights.

Steven steered Melissa in the direction of his truck-whatever happened, he wasn't ready to let her go-and they were almost to the driver's-side door when a man in a hat stepped out of the shadows.

"Boston? Does all that blood belong to you or somebody else?"

Brody. Steven felt a rush of emotions, but at the moment, relief was the only one he recognized. Steven felt a rush of emotions, but at the moment, relief was the only one he recognized.

"I'm all right," he said.

Brody swept off his beat-up old hat, nodded politely to Melissa. "How about you, ma'am?"

She simply nodded, leaning into Steven a little.

"Dad and Kim are over at the fairgrounds, with Matt," Steven said to his cousin. "Find them and bring them out to the ranch, will you?" He paused, looked down at his clothes. Tom hadn't said so, but the police would probably want them as evidence, and he'd be questioned, without a doubt. This was likely to be a long night.

Brody nodded. "I'll do it," he said. He took Melissa's arm and escorted her to the other side of the truck, helped her into the pa.s.senger seat.

He could be a gentleman, when he chose.

Steven was behind the wheel by the time Brody returned to look in at him through the open window.

"Maybe you'd like a little time to get out of those duds," Brody observed gravely. "If Kim and the little guy see you looking like you lost a gunfight, they'll freak for sure."

Steven nodded. "Give us an hour," he said.

He shifted into gear, backed the truck out, shifted again.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place?" he asked Melissa, as an afterthought.

Steven was more than relieved when she shook her head no.

They drove to the ranch in relative silence; both of them were probably in shock. When she saw that there were lights burning in the old house, and Brad's tour bus was gone, replaced by Davis and Kim's RV, she sat up a little straighter.

"You've moved into your house?"

"It's more like we're camping out," Steven answered, smiling. It felt good-and strange-to smile, as if he'd forgotten how to do it and then suddenly remembered. "But it's shaping up. Matt's in his room and I'm in mine. The kitchen works, and so do the shower and the bathtub."

She looked down at her clothes, when Steven stopped the truck and shoved open the door, causing the interior lights to come on.

"I'm a mess," she said.

"You can borrow something of Kim's," Steven replied, getting out.

Before he could go around and open the door for her, Melissa had alighted on her own.

They met behind the truck.

"You're-you're really okay, Steven?" she asked.

He started to touch her, drew back his hand at the last moment. "You might say I've seen the light," he said, after giving a nod.

She moved to his side, slipped an arm around him, and they started toward the house.

Inside, Zeke was barking his head off, waiting to greet them.

Eager to greet anybody. anybody.

They entered the house, and Steven acknowledged the dog, then crossed the kitchen and plucked a couple of garbage bags from the box under the new stainless steel sink. He offered one to Melissa, pointed her in the right direction. "You take the first shower," he said. "There's a robe on the hook on the back of the bathroom door."

"What about you?" she asked, her voice quiet, worried. "Matt would be beside himself if he saw you-"

"Brody will make sure he doesn't," Steven said. His cousin was about the least dependable person he knew, but when it mattered, Brody always came through.