The Long Way Home Read Free Page A

library. I was pretty sure she was calling the police. She was telling them to come and arrest me, the dangerous fugitive in her library.
    At least, I hoped that’s what she was doing. It was the only chance I had.
    Now—as Blockhead and Mustache-Man watched me tensely—I started moving again. I walked away from the desk. Casually, I strolled across the room to the windows. I looked out through the glass at the street below, trying to see how bad the situation was.
    It was worse than I thought.
    The season was late autumn. The time was early evening. Dusk was falling. The office buildings of Whitney’s downtown were slowly turning to silhouettes against the darkening sky. The grassy triangle of the little park across the street was disappearing into shadow beneath the naked branches of its spreading oak trees. Cars went by— not a lot, but a steady stream of them. Their white headlights flared as they approached. Their red taillights faded into the distance as they drove away.
    And I could see them: the Homelanders. Waiting for me. Two hulking shadows in the park under the trees. Two more at the near corner. Two more at the far corner. Who knows how many others? Standing there. Ready. Too many to fight. Too many to get past.
    My eyes shifted. I looked down at the street. There were lines of cars parked along both curbs. I moved my gaze over them slowly. I was looking for a motorcycle. I was looking for the Harley-Davidson that fit the key— the blond killer’s key that was now in my pocket. I had only driven a motorcycle once before in my life. The older brother of a friend of mine had let me try it. I had a natural feel for it and by the time I’d driven it a short distance, I was maneuvering the big machine pretty well. I thought if I could somehow get past all those thugs in the shadows, if I could get to the Harley fast, get on it fast— well, maybe then I could use it to escape.
    My eyes continued moving over the line of cars. My breath caught. I felt a small spark of excitement and hope. I had spotted the motorcycle.
    Then, the very next moment, the spark of hope died. I felt my stomach go sour.
    There were two of them. Two motorcycles. One was parked at the near curb, down by the corner to my left. One was parked on the other curb, almost directly across the street from the library entrance and in front of the park. In the gathering darkness, I couldn’t tell whether one or both of them were Harleys that might match my key.
    I might—might just—be able to make a mad dash and reach one of the bikes. But how could I tell which bike to choose, which one the key fit?
    “Don’t even think about it. You’ll never make it.”

CHAPTER FIVE
No Way Out
    It was as if my own thought had been spoken out loud— spoken in a low, mocking, foreign voice.
    I turned and felt a shock as I saw that the olive-skinned Mustache-Man had sidled up beside me. He was so close that, when he spoke again, I felt his hot breath on my face.
    “Every way is blocked. Every avenue is covered. If you come with us quietly, perhaps we may be able to work something out.”
    Right , I thought. Work something out. Like what? A bullet to the brain and a shallow grave?
    I was scared—really scared. But I managed to give him a hard stare. “Thanks anyway,” I said.
    The man’s lip curled in what was half a smile, half a sneer. “You were the one who chose to betray us, West. You’ll only make it worse for yourself if you draw things out.”
    He lifted his chin. I followed the gesture and turned. The other guy, the blockhead, was standing at my other shoulder. He held his jacket open a little and gave me a peek at the deadly-looking automatic pistol hidden in a shoulder holster underneath.
    “Here’s your choice, my friend,” said Mustache-Man. “You can leave with us now or we’re going to shoot you right here. We’re going to shoot you and anyone else who tries to get in our way. It could be a very bloody business.”
    What could I