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Authors: Josh Lanyon
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the house to call Will to let him know his father’s asshole charge had flipped out and made a run for the hills.
Not. His. Problem.
He wiped his sleeve against his still trickling nose, studied the gory results grimly, and started walking back to the house.
The sun felt good. He was cold from lying on the damp ground, cold from the shock of getting knocked out. Not that he was unused to physical punishment. Taylor knew he wasn’t badly hurt — although he was going to be seriously pissed off if his nose was broken — but his head thumped unpleasantly, his face throbbed, his heart was racketing around in his chest in a sick mix of shock and pain and adrenaline. It was not a good start to his day off.
And, as he crossed the meadow and drew close to the Brandt house, his day got abruptly worse.
Will’s SUV was gone.
He broke into a slow and painful jog, although he wasn’t sure why he was running. The Land Cruiser was not there. It wasn’t a trick of the light or a problem with his eyes. The Toyota was missing.
He came to a stop where it had been parked, breathing hard, staring stupidly at the tracks in the drying soil.
“I don’t believe it.”
But he did. As much as he’d have liked to tell himself he was dreaming, the drops of blood landing on the ground next to his boots seemed to indicate otherwise. He wiped his nose again, turned away and continued up the hill, up the stairs, and let himself into the house.
Inside, it was hushed and quiet. Empty.
Taylor walked back to Will’s bedroom. Will’s keys were no longer lying on top of the bureau.
He was finishing his phone call to the Sheriff’s Department when the Brandts returned, noisily trooping in, flushed with sun and wind, smelling of fish and river water, talking at the top of their voices and sending the jagged pain behind his eyes spiking.
“Hey, you’re here,” Will greeted him in evident surprise. “I thought you’d gone into t —” He stopped, took a closer look. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Your Cousin Dennis.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?” Will dropped his knapsack and went to Taylor. He put his hands on either side of Taylor’s face, tilting his head back. “He punched you?”
“Not exactly.”
“ What exactly?”
Bill Brandt said in a hard voice, “Where is Dennis?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?” He got it from all three of them at the same time. They could have started their own barber shop quartet. Well, trio.
Taylor focused his ire on Grant, who was looking at him like he’d crawled out from under a bush. Technically, he had , but that expression didn’t exactly warm him to Will’s kid brother. Under the heat of his return glare, Grant reddened.
Taylor said, “Yes. Gone. Long story short. He’s on the run.”
Of course, no way were the Brandts going to accept the Reader’s Digest version, and Taylor had to go back and give the whole embarrassing play by play.
“Jeb and Tobe Dooley were here?” Bill’s face was thunderous.
Jeb and Tobe . Will had grown up in Deliverance , USA.
“There were three of them. I didn’t catch their first names,” Taylor said.
“You didn’t think you should keep an eye on Cousin Dennis?” Grant said. “You just left him to walk out?”
“Hey,” Will growled, turning to face his brother.
“You two knock it off,” Bill said. “I’ve gotta call Clary Bennett at the Marshal’s Service.”
“Bill, I reported Will’s car stolen to the Sheriff’s Department,” Taylor said.
“Oh great! Why would you do that?” Grant demanded.
“Because my car’s been stolen!” Will said.
“It didn’t occur to him that Cousin Dennis has to fly under the radar?”
“Since when are you an expert on witness protection? It looks to me like Cousin Dennis has decided to take his chances in the no-fly zone.”
“You done with that phone, son?” Bill asked Taylor, ignoring the debate in the background.
Taylor nodded and handed over the
Not. His. Problem.
He wiped his sleeve against his still trickling nose, studied the gory results grimly, and started walking back to the house.
The sun felt good. He was cold from lying on the damp ground, cold from the shock of getting knocked out. Not that he was unused to physical punishment. Taylor knew he wasn’t badly hurt — although he was going to be seriously pissed off if his nose was broken — but his head thumped unpleasantly, his face throbbed, his heart was racketing around in his chest in a sick mix of shock and pain and adrenaline. It was not a good start to his day off.
And, as he crossed the meadow and drew close to the Brandt house, his day got abruptly worse.
Will’s SUV was gone.
He broke into a slow and painful jog, although he wasn’t sure why he was running. The Land Cruiser was not there. It wasn’t a trick of the light or a problem with his eyes. The Toyota was missing.
He came to a stop where it had been parked, breathing hard, staring stupidly at the tracks in the drying soil.
“I don’t believe it.”
But he did. As much as he’d have liked to tell himself he was dreaming, the drops of blood landing on the ground next to his boots seemed to indicate otherwise. He wiped his nose again, turned away and continued up the hill, up the stairs, and let himself into the house.
Inside, it was hushed and quiet. Empty.
Taylor walked back to Will’s bedroom. Will’s keys were no longer lying on top of the bureau.
He was finishing his phone call to the Sheriff’s Department when the Brandts returned, noisily trooping in, flushed with sun and wind, smelling of fish and river water, talking at the top of their voices and sending the jagged pain behind his eyes spiking.
“Hey, you’re here,” Will greeted him in evident surprise. “I thought you’d gone into t —” He stopped, took a closer look. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Your Cousin Dennis.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?” Will dropped his knapsack and went to Taylor. He put his hands on either side of Taylor’s face, tilting his head back. “He punched you?”
“Not exactly.”
“ What exactly?”
Bill Brandt said in a hard voice, “Where is Dennis?”
“Gone.”
“Gone?” He got it from all three of them at the same time. They could have started their own barber shop quartet. Well, trio.
Taylor focused his ire on Grant, who was looking at him like he’d crawled out from under a bush. Technically, he had , but that expression didn’t exactly warm him to Will’s kid brother. Under the heat of his return glare, Grant reddened.
Taylor said, “Yes. Gone. Long story short. He’s on the run.”
Of course, no way were the Brandts going to accept the Reader’s Digest version, and Taylor had to go back and give the whole embarrassing play by play.
“Jeb and Tobe Dooley were here?” Bill’s face was thunderous.
Jeb and Tobe . Will had grown up in Deliverance , USA.
“There were three of them. I didn’t catch their first names,” Taylor said.
“You didn’t think you should keep an eye on Cousin Dennis?” Grant said. “You just left him to walk out?”
“Hey,” Will growled, turning to face his brother.
“You two knock it off,” Bill said. “I’ve gotta call Clary Bennett at the Marshal’s Service.”
“Bill, I reported Will’s car stolen to the Sheriff’s Department,” Taylor said.
“Oh great! Why would you do that?” Grant demanded.
“Because my car’s been stolen!” Will said.
“It didn’t occur to him that Cousin Dennis has to fly under the radar?”
“Since when are you an expert on witness protection? It looks to me like Cousin Dennis has decided to take his chances in the no-fly zone.”
“You done with that phone, son?” Bill asked Taylor, ignoring the debate in the background.
Taylor nodded and handed over the
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