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“Good,” Mosely said. He drew back his empty hand and backhanded her, knocking her to the ground, then he put his knee in her back and cuffed her hands behind her with her own handcuffs. He turned her over and sat astride her. “Well, now, it’s just you and me, isn’t it?” he said, grinning. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to be alone with you, baby.”
“Cracker, do you want to go back to prison?” she asked, trying to control her fear. “I can arrange that, you know.”
“You’re all through arranging things for me,” Mosely said, starting to unbutton her uniform shirt.
“Don’t do this, Cracker. You can still stay a free man.”
“You bet your ass I can,” he said, yanking her shirt open. He moved down, unbuckling her gun belt and unzipping her pants. Soon he had them off. Holly was now exposed, except for her underwear. He stood up and started taking off his own clothes. He holstered his gun and tossed the gun belt a few feet away. “I’m going to give you some of what I gave little Rita,” he said. “She loved every minute of it, believe me. She enjoyed Barney, too. We gave her a real ride.”
Holly started trying to get to her feet, but Mosely kicked her in the chest with his bare foot, and she went down. Daisy went nuts again, but this time Mosely didn’t seem to notice. He was fondling his penis, which was responding. He came back toward Holly.
Holly waited until he was at the right distance and kicked at his genitals, but instead, her heel caught him on his muscular thigh.
He jumped on top of her, pinning her bare legs under his body, then sat astride of her again. “You’re going to pay for that one,” he said, beginning to fondle his penis again. He reached down with his other hand, took hold of her bra and yanked it off her, then he did the same with her panties.
Holly was now wearing nothing but her open shirt and the handcuffs. She struggled, but now he was rubbing his penis around her face, trying to force open her mouth. Holly looked over his shoulder at Daisy. Something had happened. She still had her head out the window, struggling to get her body through the narrow gap. But the window had gone down maybe an inch. In her frenzy, Daisy had somehow put a paw on the electric window switch. Do it again, Daisy, Holly prayed to the dog.
“You don’t want it in the mouth, huh?” Mosely said. “Well, we can save that for later, when you don’t have so much fight in you.” He rolled her over onto her stomach, staying astride of her.
Now she was completely helpless. His weight on her legs kept her from moving them, and she couldn’t get any leverage to attack him with her cuffed hands. Mosely was rubbing his penis up and down her buttocks. He parted them with his hands and was now probing for her anus. Holly gritted her teeth and held her breath, helpless. She could stand this, she thought; she could stand this and live to kill this man.
Then, suddenly, Mosely screamed and was off her, rolling in the dirt.
Holly tried to get to her feet. She could see that the car window was open, and Daisy was out. She moved forward on her knees, pressed her forehead against the car door, stood up and turned around. Daisy was on Mosely’s back, and her teeth were buried in the nape of his neck. The dog held on gamely while Mosely tried to get his hands on her throat and hit at her with his fists. He was on his feet, now, trying to swing Daisy against a tree. Holly moved. She ran up to him from behind and, aiming well, kicked him in the balls as hard as she possibly could, throwing herself to the ground in the process.
Mosely fell down and continued to struggle with Daisy. He tried to get to his feet again, but this time, Holly was in front of him and swung a kick into his solar plexus, sending him down again. Still, he struggled.
He was going to be too strong for both of them, Holly thought. She looked around for her gun, but he had thrown it away. His gun, still in its holster, was on the ground behind him. She aimed a swift kick at his nose, splattering blood everywhere, then ran around his writhing body and found the holster. There was no way she could get at it while on her feet. She knelt, but that wasn’t working, either. She lay down on the ground beside the holster and groped for the weapon.
Mosely stood up and swung around, bashing Daisy against a tree trunk. This time, the dog let go of him and fell on the ground, stunned. Mosely looked surprised to be free, then he looked at Holly and saw what she was trying to do. He came at her, naked and awesome, blood streaming from his nose down his body.
Holly rolled across the holster, finding the butt of the pistol with her left hand on the way. She would have one shot, nearly blind, and then he would be on her. She rolled over again to increase the distance between them, then, half guessing where he was, she pointed the gun away from her body and pulled the trigger. It was a double-action pistol; it did not need to be cocked. The gun roared, and over her shoulder, she saw the bullet strike him in the right shoulder, spinning him around and sending him to the ground. She got her head against a tree and struggled to her feet.
Mosely was on one knee now, trying to get up, making animal noises.
Holly ran around him and, standing close to him, watching his face over her shoulder, pulled the trigger again. The bullet entered Mosely’s forehead, and the back of his head exploded. He fell backwards and lay, inert, on the ground.
Afraid to let herself relax, afraid that others from Palmetto Gardens would hear the shots and come running, Holly ran to her empty trousers, sat on the ground next to them and began rummaging for her spare handcuff key. It took her a moment to root it out and another moment to get free, then she went to Daisy.
The dog got unsteadily to her feet. Holly held her head in her hands and talked to her. “You’re fine, girl, and he’s dead; he can’t hurt us any more.” Then she became conscious that she was still very vulnerable, naked and without Daisy to protect her. She got into her pants and shoes, buttoned her shirt and got her gun belt on again. With Mosely’s pistol in her hand, she searched the woods for her own gun, found it, holstered it, then tossed Mosely’s weapon into the car. She opened the door, and Daisy jumped into the car.
Holly got into the still-running vehicle, yanked it into reverse and raced backward until she found a spot to turn around. Finally headed back down Jungle Trail toward A1A, she used the speed dialer on her car phone to call the station and ask for Hurd Wallace.
“Deputy Chief Wallace,” he said.
“Hurd, it’s Holly.”
“You sound winded. Are you all right?”
“I’m all right. Listen to me: out on Jungle Trail, near the north gate to Palmetto Gardens, Cracker Mosely attacked me, but I managed to shoot him. He’s dead. Get out there and work the scene. Photograph everything, then call an ambulance and get the body out of here. Clean up the scene. Do it all as quietly as you can, and don’t say anything to anybody about it. You got that?”
“Holly, we can’t just let a shooting go,” Wallace said.
“We’re not letting it go. I’m reporting it to the police, right?”
“Right, I guess so.”
“Register the body at the hospital as a John Doe. I don’t want anybody to know he’s dead.”
