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Lula shouldered her rocket launcher. I had my hand wrapped around my Glock. And Brenda had her cute little girl gun. We marched up to the front door of Billings Gourmet Food, and I tried the doorknob. Locked. We circled the building and tried the loading-dock gates and the roll-up garage doors. All locked.
“I’m not going home without Jason,” Brenda said. “I’m going in.”
“Me, too,” Lula said. “I’m right behind you.”
“How are you going in?” I asked them.
Brenda set off for the office entrance. “The front door. I’m going to ring the bell and ask for Jason.”
“And if they won’t give him to us, I’ll shoot a rocket up their ass,” Lula said, following her.
I had to run to catch up, and I checked the parking lot on the way. I didn’t see a Rangeman vehicle. Not good, I thought. This smelled like disaster.
Brenda went straight to the door and put her finger to the bell. After a couple minutes, the door opened and Lancer looked out.
“Oh shit,” Lancer said.
He tried to close the door, but I already had my foot in it.
“Where’s Jason?” Brenda asked. “I want my son.”
“I dunno,” Lancer said. “He’s not here.”
Brenda pushed past him into the office. “Of course he’s here. Where else would he be? My sister-in-law wouldn’t put up with him in her house.”
“Hey,” Lancer said. “You can’t come in here. It’s not office hours.”
Lula shoved past him, close on Brenda’s heels. “S’cuse us. Outta our way.”
Lancer eyeballed the rocket lancher and turned white. “I’m going to have to get tough now. I’m going to have to force you to leave.”
“Do you got one of these babies?” Lula asked him, patting the rocket launcher.
“No.”
“Then how you gonna force us to leave?”
“I have a gun,” Lancer said. And he pointed his gun at Lula.
“I don’t like when people point a gun at me,” Lula said. “It makes me nervous, and it’s rude. Do you see me pointing my rocket launcher at you? I don’t think so.”
“It’s rude to break into people’s private property,” Lancer said.
“It’s rude to kidnap my son,” Brenda said.
We were in a small lobby. A hall led off to the right.
“I bet you have him down here,” Brenda said, moving along the hall, little girlie gun held out in front of her.
Lula followed Brenda. Lancer followed Lula. And I followed Lancer.
Brenda opened a door and looked inside. “Warehouse,” she said. And she moved on.
I did a fast scan of the cavernous space. Rows of boxes stacked one on another. Gallon tins of olive oil on wire shelves. More boxes. An eighteen-wheeler in the garage area. No Jason.
Brenda opened a door at the far end of the hall and yelped. “Jason!”
We all ran down the hall and looked into the room. Jason was working on his laptop. Slasher and another man were slouched into a couch, watching a small television.
