Chapter Thirty Three

The sharp ring of a cell phone broke the tense silence. The tune seemed jarring, too cheerful for the situation. It made them all jump. The baby started crying, shrill wails competing with the lower tone of the cell phone.

Higgs jerked, the gun shaking in his hands. "Turn that off!" Higgs screamed. "Turn it off right fucking now!"

His face was red with anger, veins standing out on his neck as he shouted. The gun trembled in his hands as his finger tightened on the trigger.

Tim tore his eyes away from the man holding a gun on him, knowing it was a bad idea yet having to do it anyway. He pulled the phone out of his pocket, powered it down and dropped it onto the floor.

"There. It's off." Tim nodded towards the baby. "Why not let Emory take the baby next door so we can talk? We're not here to take him from you. I promise."

The muzzle of the gun dipped a little. "I don't believe you!" Higgs said, eyes darting from Tim's face to Rachel's.

Rachel moved her shirt, displaying the badge clipped to her belt. "We're deputy US Marshals. We're here to talk to you about some land you own."

He leaned forward to see the badge more clearly. Rachel held it out towards him. His eyes raked over the silver star before dropping away. She clipped the badge back to her belt.

Higgs flicked his gaze at her. "What land are you talking about?"

"It may have been your father's. There was a barn on it," Tim supplied.

The short man blinked, confused. "I leased that to Mr. Hart after my Pa died. He said that he needed it for storage." He stared at the gun. "You're really not here to take my baby?"

"No," Rachel said flatly. "We're really not here to take the baby."

Higgs let the gun drop. "It wasn't loaded," he offered as Tim snatched the weapon from his hands. "I don't want to hurt anyone. That's why I've been working for Mr Hart."

Emory nodded. "He's a fantastic worker."

Rachel flashed her a distracted smile. "Why don't you take the baby and wait for us downstairs? We need to speak to your husband, too."

Tim stooped and picked his cell phone up as Emory hurried past to take the baby from the crib. She rubbed his back as she turned and walked out of the door.

Higgs sagged against the wall. "I've really screwed up, haven't I?" he asked, voice full of sorrow.

"Maybe not," Tim said. "Tell us about the land."

He moved closer to the other man, forcing eye contact. Rachel slipped quietly out of the room, cell phone in her hand as she checked her calls.

"Like I said, I leased the barn to Mr. Hart after my Dad died." He shrugged. "I had no use for the place. Figured I might as well make a bit of money from it. Mr. Hart said he needed for storage, so it worked out for both of us."

"When was this?"

Higgs frowned, nervously rubbing his hands together. "Maybe two, three years ago? Not more than that." He nodded to himself, scratching his arm absently. "'Course, the way his business has been going lately, I figured he'd end the contract. I asked him about it, and he said he'd started up something else... didn't say what, but the money arrived just in time."

Rachel stared at him. "You're saying that Mr. Hart's business is failing, and that he suddenly found a new source of income?"

"Yes, ma'am." Higgs nodded. "I asked him about it, but he didn't want to tell me, and I didn't press. He has a nasty temper, and I was worried that he'd make me leave my family. I may have screwed up before, but I'm going to do right by them now."

"I understand that," Tim said, tone indicating the opposite. Higgs didn't seem to notice. "We need you to come to the office with us and make a statement."

Higgs stared at Tim, worry in his eyes. "Is it going to get Mr. Hart into trouble?"

Rachel shook her head. "Not unless he's been doing something wrong."

"When?" Higgs asked. "It's my turn to look after the baby tonight."

"Don't worry about that. We'll make sure you're both taken care of," Rachel said. "We'll go now, okay?"

Higgs followed her as she left the room. Tim tagged along behind, keeping a wary eye on the other man in case he had any stupid ideas.

The trio made it to the sitting room without any problems. Emory had laid a padded mat on the floor. The baby sat on it, chewing a brightly coloured stuffed toy.

"Emory, we need to speak to your husband. Do you know where he is?" Rachel asked.

The other woman frowned. "He said he was going into the kitchen. That was a few minutes ago. I haven't seen him since then."

"Which way is the kitchen?" Tim asked, "I'll go and get him so we can get out of your hair."

She smiled, but alarm was starting to show in her eyes. "Is something wrong, Marshal?" She stood, putting a hand to her chest. "Do I need to call my lawyer?"

Tim held out a placating hand. "No, ma'am. Nothing like that. We just have a few quick questions for him. It's nothing to worry about."

Emory sat back down. Worry still showed on her face. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger. "Fourth door on the right. Takes you into the kitchen."

Tim nodded once and walked towards the door, keeping his pace slow so not to alarm her. Once he reached the hallway, he dropped all pretence and hurried towards the right door. It stung open under his light touch, letting him into a kitchen bigger than some of the houses he'd lived in.

The airy room was empty. He walked through it slowly, one hand on his gun. A noise drew him towards a tucked away door. It hung open. Cold air blew threw it fitfully, letting Tim know it led outside.

He stepped through it, finding himself in a large, dimly lit garage. Rain blew in through the open rolling doorway. A minivan took up one space. Motorbikes lined the far wall. A washer and dryer rumbled in a small nook, the sound drowning out any other noise. The big black Audi was parked next to the door.

"Mr. Hart?" Tim called. "I'm just here to talk, okay?" He slid his gun from his holster and walked carefully across the garage.

The driver's side window shattered as the bullet tore through it. It grazed Tim's arm, spinning him around. The noise made his ears ring. He raised his own gun, squeezing off a couple of rounds as the car sprang from the garage. The big Audi skidded around the first bend on the drive, chunky tires throwing up clouds of gravel as it fought for grip.

Another bullet tore a hole in the tiles at Tim's feet. He ducked back, cursing, as he watched the car vanish out of his sight.