Читать книгу Navajo's Woman - Beverly Barton - Страница 8

Bobby Yazzi lay on the floor. Dead. Blood from two fatal bullet wounds covered his yellow shirt and stained the handwoven rug beneath him. Russ Lapahie stood frozen to the spot, his body partially blocking Jewel Begay, who waited in the shadows several feet behind him. If the killer could see her in the semidarkness, he probably wouldn’t be able to tell anything except that she was female. With a backward wave of his hand, Russ warned her to escape while she could.

Suddenly he heard the sound of running feet and the outside door slamming shut. Momentary relief spread through him when he realized that she had understood his signal to get the hell out of there. But that relief was shortlived. Across the room, hovering like a fire-breathing dragon preparing to emerge from his den, Bobby’s murderer narrowed his gaze and aimed his weapon once again. Light from the lone lamp shining in the living room of Bobby’s apartment hit the metal of the gun, which glimmered like diamonds.

Russ had seen the killer’s face and recognized him. He was a witness to the murder, and the killer couldn’t allow him to live. If he moved, he’d be shot. But if he didn’t move… Hell, he was damned no matter what he did.

“Russ, what’s going on in here?” Eddie Whitehorn called out as he came barreling through the front door. “Jewel just came out, got in the car and she—” Eddie came to an abrupt halt at Russ’s side when he saw the body lying in the middle of the living room floor.

The next thing Russ knew, the dragon emerged. A couple of shots rang out. He and Eddie hit the floor. Crawling. Then they jumped up and ran as fast as their legs would carry them. Breathless. The cool night breeze enveloped their warm, perspiring bodies. Air on dampness. Cold on hot.

“Where’s the car?” Russ screamed, in order to hear his own voice over the drumbeat of his heart thundering inside his head.

“Jewel and Martina left us.” Eddie ran to keep up with Russ.

Each trying to catch his breath, the two boys hid behind a car parked across the street. Porch lights began coming on. Window blinds and shades came up. A couple of doors opened and several brave residents emerged from their homes.

“We’ve got to keep running,” Russ said. “We have to get out of here before he comes after us.”

“We need to call the police,” Eddie replied.

“Yeah, sure. And have them ask us what we were doing at Bobby Yazzi’s. They’ll think we went there for drugs. Man, they’re liable to think we killed him!”

“But we didn’t—”

“We can talk about this later.” Russ grabbed Eddie’s arm. “We have to go before he comes after us. I’m telling you, I’m in big trouble. The guy saw me. He knows I can identify him.”

Sucking in air hurriedly, the boys eased out from behind the car and ran between a couple of houses. As they passed, Russ caught a glimpse of two men on the porch of the nearest house. The boys didn’t linger, didn’t slow their pace. Running faster and faster, Russ could think of nothing but getting away from the man who had killed Bobby. He had never seen a human being killed. Shot down. Never watched the blood drain quickly from a body until the heart stopped.

He couldn’t let Bobby’s murderer find him. And he couldn’t call the police. With his reputation as a teenage delinquent, they’d probably lock him up and throw away the key. He had only one choice. Run and hide. And since those people back there had seen Eddie with him, had seen both of them running away from the scene of the crime, then his best friend was in almost as much trouble as he was. If they were going to stay one step ahead of the killer and the police, they’d have to stick together.