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The youth who'd held Marianne stared in shock at their leader. When Marianne jerked away from his grasp he let her go. She fell to her knees next to her husband, turning him over. His eyes stared, sightless, into her own. Her sob of horror echoed Chris's silent scream of agony. |
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Marianne looked up at her husband's murderer. Chris had never seen hate before, but he saw it now on his mother's face. He knew what she meant to do. He tried to cry out for her to stop, but his mouth remained covered by his captor's sweaty palm, and he could say nothing. He could do nothing. |
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Marianne screamed her husband's name as she dove for the gunman. Another shot exploded, this one finding its mark in Marianne's chest. Scarlet bloomed in the middle of her pretty pink blouse. Her gaze searched for Chris. Their eyes met. He saw her love for him mingling with her fear. She crumpled at the feet of her murderer. |
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The gunman turned toward Chris. Slithering shadows moved across the youth's face, obscuring his features. But Chris could see his own death reflected in those too-bright eyes. |
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"Shit, Dickey, what did you kill them for?" the kid who held Chris shouted. "We're in for it now. You said no shooting. You said we'd only use the gun to scare 'em." |
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"Shut up and get away from him." The murderer's voice was as cold as his eyes. The kid who held Chris went still, then very slowly released him and stepped away. Chris stumbled forward a step, his legs wobbly. Harsh, terror-stricken pants rasped |
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