One Grave Less

bloody bastards may have used other weapons against your people outside.”
    “We’re wasting time,” said Frank.
    Frank led Garnett and Hollis, the young policeman, out the back door. Diane took a gun and followed.
    “Gregory, if you would, stay with Star,” she said.
    Diane announced her presence as Frank started to open the back door.
    “Don’t argue,” she said. “I’ll stay close to the house and venture out only if you say it is clear. But people need help. I can be a lookout.”
    Frank and Garnett nodded.
    Diane stepped out with them and hugged the side of the house as she made her way to the front. Frank led the others down a route with trees and bush for cover, toward a copse of trees where the dead man was supposed to be sprawled on the ground.
    Diane watched them until they faded into the shadows. Frank’s house was set back from the road fifty yards, give or take, which made his front yard long and wide.
    In the distance, almost to the road, Diane spotted movement among the policemen who were guarding the body. Some were on their hands and knees. One looked like he might be heaving. Another managed to make it to his feet. Her gaze scanned the ground looking for someone still down. She didn’t see the guy Frank had shot, but it was hard to see.
    She scanned among the trees for the bad guys in hiding, waiting for another ambush. She had a feeling they were gone, that their goal was to take the body, probably so that it wouldn’t be identified. But they were so brutal she couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t come back for the hell of it—or for the terror of it. Their method of attack appeared to be the use of overwhelming force, even if it meant killing bystanders. What kind of people would do that?
    This was all about producing so much disorientation in her and the police that their investigative efforts would be ineffective. And the bullet across her shoulder said it was also about killing her. Who had she pissed off that much?
    She watched the road, listened for sirens. Where was backup? But only a couple of minutes had passed.
    She could see that Frank, Garnett, and Hollis had met up with the disoriented policemen.
    What were the thugs after? Something in the house or something they thought was in the house that they wanted. They were determined. And they had no conscience. Determined, no conscience.
    Diane watched the road with the detailed concentration she normally put into examining a bone—which was probably why she saw the black van with the dull matte finish moving slowly down the road across the end of the driveway.
    She cupped her hands to her mouth.
    “Duck. Road. Van.” She shouted twice before she saw them dive for cover.
    She sprinted to the side of the house, out of the line of fire that she knew was coming. The night suddenly crackled and popped like fireworks.
    “Dear God,” she whispered.
    “Not listening, lady.”
    An arm snaked around her waist as a gun was thrust under her chin.
    “Drop the fucking gun.” The voice was a raspy whisper.
    Diane hesitated a second, then dropped the gun.
    “Where the hell is it?” he said.
    “The package?” said Diane.
    “Good girl. If you had asked what package, I would have hurt you bad. I’m tired of messing around. I want the package.”
    “It’s at the museum,” said Diane.
    “No, it’s not.” He dug his fingers in one of the pain points in her arm and covered her mouth with the forearm of his gun hand. A burning pain shot through her arm. She thought she was going to throw up.
    “See how serious I am?” He rammed the gun back under her chin.
    “I’ve been seeing all night how serious you are. I can’t help it if you don’t like the answer. It’s at the museum.”
    Excruciating pain. Only his arm around her kept her from doubling over to the ground.
    “We have looked in the museum. It’s here.”
    “With all due respect—and please believe that I respect what you can and are willing to do—but you missed it in the museum because there is no way you could have gotten in the vaults.”
    “Vaults?”
    Gotcha . . . More or less.
    “Five vaults in the museum, plus two in the crime lab. All of them protected by high security—way more security than this house. You’re telling me you didn’t know about the vaults? I would say something sarcastic about your intel, but I know you would hurt me.”
    “We didn’t know about the vaults. That’s true.”
    “I would never bring something of great importance