Page 110 of D for Dead

Rivers scowled at her.

‘I’m not getting in trouble with Hickok for leaving you here alone, and I’m hungry, so yes, we have to go out to get me food.’

Annoyed, Amy disappeared into her bedroom to fetch her purse. She returned a couple of seconds later, picking her cell phone up and slipping it in her pocket. Seeing her getting ready to go out, Huckleberry sat up and fixed her with a pitiful look. ‘We might as well take him with us. He’s gonna need a walk soon. We can coincide going out with taking him over the park.’

‘I don’t want him in my car.’

‘Why not?’

‘I don’t like dogs.’

‘Oh for crying out loud. We’ll be five minutes.’

‘I don’t care.’ Rivers pulled a petulant face. ‘The dog stays here. If we have to we’ll take him out when we get back.’

Amy held her tongue. It wasn’t worth arguing.

‘Sorry, buddy,’ she muttered under her breath to Huckleberry as she followed Rivers out of the door.

* * *

Peterson was aware of approaching footsteps.

Was it his attacker?

He had no idea of the time and had gone through a number of emotions – anger, confusion, frustration, fear – as his mind ticked overtime. Although he continually tested his bonds, he knew he wasn’t going to get free, and that left him to wait. And God the waiting was awful.

He thought of his wife and his kid, and he thought about what was going to happen to him. It was the not knowing that was the worst bit.

The footsteps came closer and he mumbled against the tape, knowing he couldn’t call out but hoping it would be enough to attract attention. Above him came a click, then some kind of vibration disturbing the noose around his neck. He attempted to call out again. It sounded loud in his head, but he knew it was barely a mumble.

A door slammed directly overhead. A car door. And he understood where he was.

Oh jeez. Oh dear God, no.

The click of the ignition, the roar of the engine, the smell of the fumes.

Realising the full implications of what was about to happen, Peterson attempted again to roll to the side. He felt the car move forward, the brief second when it was no longer above him, then the noose around his neck choked him as it tightened sharply, dragging the weight of his body, and he lost consciousness.

* * *

‘There’s something wrong with my car.’

Rivers was scrutinising the dashboard as he drove up the ramp and out of the garage, looking like a man who didn’t have the first clue about how machinery worked.

Amy wished he would keep his eyes on the road. The damn idiot would crash if he didn’t pay attention.

He was right; the ride wasn’t smooth. It felt like the suspension. Gawking at the dashboard wasn’t going to help.

‘Don’t you feel it?’

‘Yeah, I do. Why don’t you pull over?’ she suggested.

On the sidewalk a passing woman screamed, drawing their attention.

What the heck?

She had dropped her shopping bags, was pointing to the car. As they passed her, Amy turned in her seat to see what she had been pointing at.