Free JACK KILBORN ~ AFRAID by Jack Kilborn Page A

and Christmas gifts.
    And now he was being attacked. The man straddled Streng, pinning him down, doing something with his hands. Erwin was about thirty yards away, and he knew he couldn’t cross that distance before the man drew his gun, especially since the light had alerted him to Erwin’s presence. If he tried to help, he might die.
    It took Erwin all of a second to switch off his light and head back into the woods. The act shamed him, but the risk was too high. Erwin liked Mr. Streng, but he didn’t want to get shot for him. He hid behind a large pine tree and held his breath, listening for sounds that he was being followed.
    “Hey!”
    The voice made Erwin flinch. It wasn’t Mr. Streng calling him.
    “Come out of the woods!”
    That didn’t seem like a wise idea. Erwin chewed the inside of his cheek and closed his eyes.
    “Come out of the woods, or I’ll kill the sheriff!”
    A scream so raw, so filled with pure pain, shot through the trees, and Erwin wanted to stick his fingers in his ears to make it stop. If the man hoped to lure Erwin from hiding by hurting Mr. Streng, he had another think coming. All it made Erwin want to do was get as far away as possible.
    Afraid to switch the flashlight back on, Erwin made his way through the woods by feel, each step taking him farther from the horrible sound that just wouldn’t stop.
     

     
    U p to that point, the worst pain Sheriff Ace Streng had ever experienced was a kidney stone. He’d woken in the middle of the night from a nightmare of someone stabbing him in the side with a hot poker. Once he was awake, the pain didn’t abate. After two hours of side-clutching agony, he called 911. His ER nurse had been sympathetic.
    “I’ve had three children, Sheriff. I’ve also had kidney stones. I’d rather have three more children than another stone.”
    Having his kidney mauled by the psychopath straddling him felt like a kidney stone times ten. Streng bellowed until his throat burned. He had seen Erwin at the tree line and didn’t blame the boy for running off. Hell, Streng would have run away, too, had he known the pain this man was capable of causing.
    Finally the terrible fingers quit squeezing, and Streng managed to catch his breath.
    “I think you scared him off,” the man whispered. Streng had heard part of the phone call, knew he called himself Santiago. “Now, how about we get to those questions I promised, yes?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. Very good. First question. Where’s Warren?”
    At first, Streng wasn’t sure he heard correctly. Warren? Did he mean Wiley? What could he possibly want with him?
    A kidney pinch made him focus.
    “I haven’t seen him in years,” he answered, sobbing.
    “I’m not asking when you saw him. I’m asking where he is. Do you know?”
    “Yes.”
    Santiago leaned in close enough to kiss him. The intimacy of the gesture made Streng want to gag.
    “Tell me. Where’s Warren?”
    Streng opened his mouth to tell him, but nothing came out. This surprised Streng. He would have chewed off his own arm to get away from this lunatic, but he couldn’t say the address. Even though he knew it meant more torture.
    Streng clenched his teeth. He didn’t know why he was keeping mum. Certainly Wiley could take care of himself. Hell, Wiley even deserved this hell to rain upon him. But Streng knew that he’d hold out as long as possible.
    Perhaps, if he got lucky, his kidneys would fail and he’d die before the pain went on too long.
    “Go to hell,” Streng said.
    And that’s when Josh came running out of the Morton house, straight at them.
    Santiago moved fast, incredibly fast. In one blurred motion he gained his footing and reached for his sidearm. Streng had anticipated the move and still almost missed it, but he managed to grab the killer’s wrist, preventing him from drawing the pistol. That one-second distraction was enough for Josh to catch Santiago in the neck with his forearm, toppling him over.
    Josh was big, solid,