Chapter Fourteen

He had the gun up and aimed before the sleep had cleared from his eyes. Instinct had it fixed on the middle of the door; training had his finger hovering on the trigger, one muscle tense away from firing. The gun felt steady in his hands. You never did have a problem using one of these, he thought, mocking himself.

A shower of dust rained down the wall as the person shoved the door further open. The frame had warped out of shape, jamming the door halfway.

"Who is it?" he shouted. "Come in slowly, and let me see your hands."

A pair of feminine hands cleared the edge of the door. "I'm here to help," she said, easing her body into the room.

"You're working with him," Raylan said. "How is that helping, Doc?"

The coroner sat gingerly on the bed, keeping her hands in plain sight. "Who do you think left you the gun? The coat and the lighter?" She jerked her thumb at her own chest. "It was me, okay? I knew you'd never survive without them!"

Raylan let the gun down, resting it on his lap as he studied her. "You really wanna help, you'll let us go."

She shook her head. "I don't have the keys." Her pretty face twisted with disgust. "The chief has them, locked up in his safe. There's no way for me to get them."

"Why?" The girl asked, peering out from the coat. "Why are you doing this? You drugged us... me." Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I couldn't resist, even when they made me do things that..." Her voice broke completely. She sniffed hard, swiping the tears from her face with short, angry motions.

"I'm so sorry..." The dark haired woman whispered. "I'm as much a victim as you are. I had no choice." She closed her eyes, blinking away tears. "I thought I was helping you. I really did!"

Raylan tilted his head. "Bullshit."

The older woman blinked. "Excuse me?"

Stiffly, Raylan stood, nudging the fire bucket out of the way with his toe. The scent of soot drifted through the air. "You really wanted to help, you would have told someone what was going on in this backwoods hell hole."

"He... he said he'd kill me!" She protested and stood up, wrapping her arms around herself.

"How many lives did you trade away for yours?" Raylan asked, voice hard and cold with anger. It burned in his eyes like a wildfire waiting for the right wind to explode. "How many girls did you hide when they came through your morgue? I'm betting there's a whole load of them, because you were too spineless to do anything about it!"

She backed away as he stalked forward, only stopping when the chain forced him too.

"Please! It's not like that!" she held her hands up, face pale with horror. "He has my mother. He's holding her so I'll work with him, clean his mess up." Her voice broke. She paused, swallowing the tears. "He lets me see her every week. If I stop helping him, he'll kill her."

Raylan stared at her. She stared back, holding his eyes even as tears fell down her cheeks.

He looked away first, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand. "You're telling me the truth?"

Trembling, she nodded. "Yes. I swear it. I'd swear it on the bible if I had one."

He held out a hand to her. "Give me your cell phone."

She dug it out of her pocket and handed it over. "It won't work out here. God knows, I've tried enough times."

Raylan check the screen, frowning when he saw she was telling the truth. "There must be old tools left in here. Bolt cutters... a pry bar. Something. See what you can find."

Lips pressed together, she nodded and left the room.

The girl watched from the corner. "You shouldn't trust her."

Raylan gave her a sideways glance, attention mostly on the phone in his hand. "I don't."

The girl blew out a sigh and sat up, crossing her legs under the coat. "My name is Hope Seaberg," she said. "I'm seventeen. Before I came here, I lived in Somerset with my Mom."

That jerked his attention away from the phone. "Why are you telling me this now, Hope?" He asked.

"Because I have a feeling she's going to come back through that door with a gun. You'll shoot her before she gets us... maybe." She shrugged, sadly. "I didn't want to die without someone here knowing my name."

He smiled at her. "You're not going to die."

Desperate, she grabbed his shirt. "Don't listen to her. She's playing you. I've seen her do this before."

Raylan glanced down at her, confused. "I don't trust her, and yes, I bet she is playing us somewhere in this, but we need to get out of here before tonight, and she's our best chance." Footsteps drew closer to the room. "She's coming back. Just work with me, okay?"

Hope nodded. "No, it's not okay!"

Raylan crouched, tucking the phone into his shirt pocket so he could lay a hand on her shoulder. "I'll shoot her if she does anything I don't like."

Trembling, Hope nodded. "Okay."

More dust rained onto the floor as the coroner wedged herself through the door again. She held up a rusty pair of bolt cutters. "Will these work?"

Grim, Raylan nodded. "They'll have to work. Do the girl first."

The dark haired woman crossed the small room in a few long steps. She caught a link of chain in the blades of the bolt cutters and leaned on the long handles, throwing all of her weight into the effort. The chain creaked, but held. Panting, red in the face, she stepped back.

"I'm not strong enough."

Raylan handed the phone to Hope, using his good hand to add his weight to the bolt cutters. Nothing seemed to happen at first.

"It's splitting!" Hope called excitedly. "Just a bit more!"

They leaned harder on the long handles, throwing every ounce of strength they had into it. The chain broke suddenly with an explosive crack. The sudden lack of force pitched Raylan forward. He dropped to one knee on the floor, barely avoiding crashing into the wall. Pain tore though his shoulder. Warm wetness let him know something had broken open.

He gritted his teeth, riding the pain until it started to fade. A small touch on his leg brought him back to the room.

"I told you," Hope muttered unhappily.

Raylan looked up to see the coroner pointing the muzzle of a shiny, well-maintained gun at his head. He stared up at her. "You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you, would you?"

She smiled and shook her head. "Nope." He moved so he was blocking her shot at Hope. "Uh-huh. Stay still, pretty boy."

"Why'd you let her free?" Raylan asked. "Is it all part of your plan?"

The dark-haired woman smiled. "I'm gonna shoot her in the head with that gun you've so helpfully got your prints all over and dump her body near your hotel room. Everyone will think you killed her."

"And me?" Raylan tilted his head. "What are you going to do with me?"

"Aw, pretty boy." She shook her head. "You know you're never going to leave this room alive."

He nodded, accepting that. He closed his eyes, coming to a decision. "Hope?"

She touched his back. "Yes?"

"When you get chance, run."

"Huh?" She gasped. "Shoot her!"

He shook his head sadly. "Gun's full of blanks."

"What?" She leaned closer to him. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

He didn't answer, picking up the bolt cutters and launching himself at the dark-haired woman. The gun went off, bullet gouging a new hole into the floor. She fired again, the bullet tracing a line of fire and pain along his hip. He swung the bolt cutters, knocking the gun out of her hand.

"Go, Hope!" he grunted and caught the punch meant for his face.

Hope bolted past the fight, hands tucked into balls as she ran. Raylan nodded in grim satisfaction, drawing the dark-haired woman closer to him, blocking her strikes simply by being too close for her to land them. One hit his shoulder, making him recoil in pain.

"Get away from him!" Hope screamed. "Right now! Get the hell away from him!"

The dark-haired woman turned just in time to take a bullet in the chest. She collapsed, gasping for air.

Hope stared at her, wordless emotions playing across her face. She settled on horror, dropping the gun. It fired again, the ricchoet punching a hole in the wall above the door.

Raylan dropped to his knees beside the dark-haired woman, pressing his hand on the wound. "Hope!" he snapped. "Hope!"

Her eyes slowly tracked to his face. "Go outside. Get in her car and drive until you reach the main road. Call 911 and tell them we need help out here."

She shook her head. "I shot her!"

"Yes, you did." Raylan said. "Now, you need to go get us help. Can you do that?"

Hope nodded, bolting away from the small, close room as if the hounds of Hell were chasing her. Raylan watched her go and hoped that she'd bring help back in time.

The dark-haired women moved weakly under his hand. "Why are you helping me?" she gasped.

Raylan bit his lip. "Because it's the right thing to do."

"I don't deserve it." She coughed, blood painting her lips bright red.

He shook his head. "I'm not doing it for you." He tilted his head in the direction of the road. "I'm doing it for her."