The Bodies Left Behind

seconds. In that time he could have emptied the Glock’s fifteen-round clip and been halfway through reloading.
    They eased silently toward the camper.
    “How many people inside?” Hart whispered.
    “Couldn’t see too good. Definitely one other man—and the guy who put Brynn in the van. A woman too.”
    Hart was looking over Lewis carefully. The man was staring at the camper and kneading the shotgun stock. His eyes were troubled.
    “Comp?”
    “Yeah?” He looked up.
    “We’ve gotta do it.”
    “Sure.”
    “I know what you’re thinking—they haven’t exactly done us harm. But they’re tweakers, Comp. They cook meth. They’ll be dead anyway in a year. OD’d or burned to death or clipped by somebody’s upset they’re peeing on his turf. This’ll be faster. This’ll be better for them. We’ll get Brynn, find Michelle, finish with them and that’s it.”
    Lewis was looking at the van.
    “How we handle it’s this: They’re pros and that means they’re going to have guns. Now, we bought some time when I talked to Brynn’s husband, but that’s not to say he believed me, or that they aren’t going to send a car around to the park, just for what the hell. I think we have to assume there’re cops at the house already and on a quiet night like this, sound’ll carry. They could hear the gunshots. We’ve got to finish it up fast, once the shooting starts. Real fast.”
    “Sure.”
    “You have that lighter of yours?”
    “Always carry one. In case I meet a lady in a bar needs a light.” The crack in his voice belied the joke.
    “Courteous of you, nonsmoker that you are.” Hart smiled and Lewis exhaled a brief laugh. “Okay, you go around to the right side of the camper, the one without the doors. Get some dirty leaves and see if you can find something plastic or rubber. Start a fire under the camper. Just small. We don’t want it to spread and call attention to us. I just want smoke. With all that ammonia and propane in there, they’ll freak and get the hell out, head for the van. When they come out . . . okay?”
    He nodded.
    “I’ll take the front door, you take the back. You locked and loaded?”
    “Yes, I am.”
    Hart checked his Glock and made sure one of the full clips was upside down in his waistband, to the right, so he could grab it easily in his left hand to reload.
    “Keep your SIG handy too.”
    Lewis fished his chrome-plated pistol out of his jacket pocket. And slipped the automatic into his waistband.
    Hart noticed that the suggestion was greeted with none of the sarcasm or resistance of earlier.
    Lewis gave an uneasy laugh. “Well, aren’t we a couple of gunslingers.”
    “Move in slow, move in quiet. Get the fire going. Then come back around. Let ’em all get out before youstart shooting. Last thing we want is to have to go in and get anybody. You counted three, right?”
    “Yeah, but now I think about it, the woman turned her head and said something. She wasn’t looking at the two men. Maybe there’s somebody else.”
    “Okay, we’ll plan on four.”

    THE ROPE GANDY had used to hook her to the tie-down in the back of the fourteen-foot van was thick and made of nylon—strong but slippery. Brynn finally managed to untie it. The tape on her hands, behind her, wouldn’t yield but she managed to climb to her feet. The buttons in the back doors were flush and she couldn’t lift them. She stumbled to the front of the van, tripped over the transmission shifter and hit her head on the dash. She lay stunned for a moment. Then managed to right herself and, turning her back to the glove box, got it open. Empty, except for papers.
    She collapsed into the front seat of the van, catching her breath. Her stomach muscles were in agony from the navigation to the front and from the smack of the club Gandy’s wife had used on her. Brynn tried for the unlock button on the armrest but it was just out of reach of her bound hands. She surveyed the rest of the van, the junk, the boxes, the shopping bags. No knives or tools. No phones. She sat back in the seat, despairing eyes closing.
    Then behind her a woman screamed.
    “Michelle,” she whispered. Had she returned, had they found her at the lake and dragged her back here? Brynn spun around. But there were only two windows in the van aside from those in the front: in the rear doors. They were opaque with dirt.
    Brynn looked in the side-view mirror. Smoke filled the night. Was the camper burning? Meth labs were notorious for