Cruz, beat seeing the elephant.”
Roberts said, “Sarah’s with her. Sarah says she’s taken something and gone to bed. She didn’t want to wake her up.”
Shields nodded.
“Tommy’s dead—I guess you knew. You wanted to break it to me easy. I appreciate that.”
“I thought he probably was,” Shields admitted. “I didn’t know it.”
“Sally called Sarah, didn’t say what was wrong, just asked her to come over. Naturally, Sarah came. After she found out, she tried to phone me. Teddie told her you and me were already gone.”
“If you’d like to go there, Bob … .”
Roberts shook his head. “Not right now. Sally’s asleep, and there’s nothing I can do. Seth’s off someplace—Seth’s my grandson. He’ll be all right, he’s Tommy’s boy.”
“I’m sure he will,” Shields said.
“Tommy was a tough one,” Roberts told him. “Tommy was a fighter.”
Shields nodded again, not knowing what else to do in the face of the older man’s controlled grief.
“You were wanting to see the stuff about the castle. It’s in that room there. That’s the studio. Switch is on the wall, to your left as you go in.”
“Thanks,” Shields said. He went into the studio and turned on the lights. Behind him in the music room, he heard Roberts blow his nose. Bob wasn’t tough, Shields reflected. Bob wasn’t a fighter. Or perhaps, he was.
The rider reined up, his horse stopping so abruptly that it appeared to crouch. He pointed his rifle at Ann like a pistol, keeping the reins in his left hand. “Get out of that car.”
Ann nodded, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain. It was no longer falling quite so fiercely as it had been, Ann decided. She thought of her body sprawled on the wet grass, the last gentle rain tapping at her upturned face. The gun was the kind you saw in cowboy movies; it seemed strange that such a gun could fire anything but blanks. Its muzzle followed her like a menacing eye.
“Come over to the gate.”
Ann did as she was told.
He tossed her a bunch of keys. “Unlock it.”
The big padlock was drowned in darkness. Ann clamped the flashlight beneath her chin, found a key that looked as though it might fit.
Freed from the hasp, the gate swung toward her. The horse tossed its head, watching her sidelong through the rain; its rider’s eyes were lost beneath the brim of his rain-soaked hat.
“You get back in that car. If you think you’re real smart, you’ll cut the lights and throw her in reverse. And I’ll have six or seven bullets in her before she’s thirty feet back down the road.”
Ann shook her head. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Then you ease her by the gate. Go real slow. When you’re through, get out and lock the gate.”
She nodded, saw him try to peer through the windshield when the domelight came on. It seemed odd and almost unnatural to be inside the car once more, away from the rain. She shifted into drive and let the Buick creep forward.
When she opened the door, the rider said, “Kill the engine.
Give me my keys back, and the keys to the car.” He dug a heel into his horse’s flank; the horse turned obediently, presenting its left side to Ann. He dropped his reins on the horse’s neck, took both sets of keys with his left hand, and stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans. “Open the doors of that car,” he told her. “All the doors.”
“All of them?”
For an instant she thought he was going to shoot, leaning from the saddle, his left hand grasping the wooden part of the gun in front of the trigger. She turned quickly, opened the rear door on the driver’s side, trotted around the car to open the other doors.
“Open the trunk,” he said.
“I can’t,” Ann told him. “You’ve got my keys.”
He dismounted. “Shut that gate and lock it.”
She did so. The lock was large and shiny, well-oiled. He wasn’t really much taller than she was, Ann decided.
“Get into the car on the other side. I’m goin’ to
Roberts said, “Sarah’s with her. Sarah says she’s taken something and gone to bed. She didn’t want to wake her up.”
Shields nodded.
“Tommy’s dead—I guess you knew. You wanted to break it to me easy. I appreciate that.”
“I thought he probably was,” Shields admitted. “I didn’t know it.”
“Sally called Sarah, didn’t say what was wrong, just asked her to come over. Naturally, Sarah came. After she found out, she tried to phone me. Teddie told her you and me were already gone.”
“If you’d like to go there, Bob … .”
Roberts shook his head. “Not right now. Sally’s asleep, and there’s nothing I can do. Seth’s off someplace—Seth’s my grandson. He’ll be all right, he’s Tommy’s boy.”
“I’m sure he will,” Shields said.
“Tommy was a tough one,” Roberts told him. “Tommy was a fighter.”
Shields nodded again, not knowing what else to do in the face of the older man’s controlled grief.
“You were wanting to see the stuff about the castle. It’s in that room there. That’s the studio. Switch is on the wall, to your left as you go in.”
“Thanks,” Shields said. He went into the studio and turned on the lights. Behind him in the music room, he heard Roberts blow his nose. Bob wasn’t tough, Shields reflected. Bob wasn’t a fighter. Or perhaps, he was.
The rider reined up, his horse stopping so abruptly that it appeared to crouch. He pointed his rifle at Ann like a pistol, keeping the reins in his left hand. “Get out of that car.”
Ann nodded, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain. It was no longer falling quite so fiercely as it had been, Ann decided. She thought of her body sprawled on the wet grass, the last gentle rain tapping at her upturned face. The gun was the kind you saw in cowboy movies; it seemed strange that such a gun could fire anything but blanks. Its muzzle followed her like a menacing eye.
“Come over to the gate.”
Ann did as she was told.
He tossed her a bunch of keys. “Unlock it.”
The big padlock was drowned in darkness. Ann clamped the flashlight beneath her chin, found a key that looked as though it might fit.
Freed from the hasp, the gate swung toward her. The horse tossed its head, watching her sidelong through the rain; its rider’s eyes were lost beneath the brim of his rain-soaked hat.
“You get back in that car. If you think you’re real smart, you’ll cut the lights and throw her in reverse. And I’ll have six or seven bullets in her before she’s thirty feet back down the road.”
Ann shook her head. “I’m not going to do that.”
“Then you ease her by the gate. Go real slow. When you’re through, get out and lock the gate.”
She nodded, saw him try to peer through the windshield when the domelight came on. It seemed odd and almost unnatural to be inside the car once more, away from the rain. She shifted into drive and let the Buick creep forward.
When she opened the door, the rider said, “Kill the engine.
Give me my keys back, and the keys to the car.” He dug a heel into his horse’s flank; the horse turned obediently, presenting its left side to Ann. He dropped his reins on the horse’s neck, took both sets of keys with his left hand, and stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans. “Open the doors of that car,” he told her. “All the doors.”
“All of them?”
For an instant she thought he was going to shoot, leaning from the saddle, his left hand grasping the wooden part of the gun in front of the trigger. She turned quickly, opened the rear door on the driver’s side, trotted around the car to open the other doors.
“Open the trunk,” he said.
“I can’t,” Ann told him. “You’ve got my keys.”
He dismounted. “Shut that gate and lock it.”
She did so. The lock was large and shiny, well-oiled. He wasn’t really much taller than she was, Ann decided.
“Get into the car on the other side. I’m goin’ to
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