Free A Touch of Death by Charles Williams Page A

his rifle and waited for something to move.
    He probably wouldn’t try to come any closer. Not until tonight. But in the meantime nobody would go out that road.

Chapter Seven
    “The stupid idiot,” she said. I looked around. She was standing up, squarely in line between the front and rear windows. I didn’t say anything. I dived.
    I hit her just at the waist and took her down with me, turning a little to land on my shoulder. Splinters raked through my shirt. Panes in the front and rear windows blew up at the same time and glass tinkled on the floor.
    “What’s the matter with you?” she spat at me. “Are you crazy?”
    She lay beside me, caught in my arms like a beautiful and enraged wildcat. I disengaged an arm, picked a sliver of windowpane off the front of her robe, held it up so she could see it, and tossed it toward the front window. Her eyes followed it.
    “Oh,” she said.
    “If you feel like silhouetting yourself again,” I said, “tell
    me where that money is first. You won’t need it.”
    “What can we do?” she asked.
    “Several things, I suppose, if I didn’t have to spend all
    my time knocking you down. Do you think you can stay here this time?”
    “Yes.”
    “All right.”
    I crawled over her. When I was away from the windows I stood up and ran into the bedroom. Grabbing a couple of blankets off one of the bunks, I draped one across the bedroom window and brought the other out.
    I stood beside the rear window. “Cover your face,” I said. “We’re going to have more glass.”
    She put an arm over her face. I flipped the blanket. It caught over the old curtain rod. Glass smashed in the
    front window again and the blanket jerked, but remained on the rod. It had a hole in it.
    I looked swiftly around. The back door was locked, the window covered now. The storeroom had no outside door, no window. He could sneak around to the sides or back, but he couldn’t see in anywhere to shoot. And he knew I had his gun.
    From that distance he probably couldn’t see in the front window now, with no light behind it. Maybe he couldn’t, I thought. I could put another blanket over it, but I wanted to be able to see out on one side, at least. The thought of being sealed up in there with no way to guess where he was didn’t appeal to me.
    “Is it all right now?” she asked.
    “No. Stay down.”
    I looked at her again, and thought of something.
    “Take off that robe,” I said.
    She sat on the floor and stared coldly at me. “Don’t we
    have anything better to do?”
    “You have got something on under it, haven’t you?”
    “Yes. Pajamas.”
    “Well, shut up and toss it here.”
    She shrugged and slid out of it, turning a little to get it out from under her. The pajamas were blue and wide-sleeved, the lounging type. She tossed the robe. I crawled over and stood up beside the front window and flipped it over the curtain rod. It slid off. I picked it up and tried again. This time I got more of it over the rod and it stuck. There was no shot.
    I stepped back. It was fine. It was just sheer enough to be transparent with the light on the other side. I could see the meadow. Nothing stirred.
    “All right,” I said. “He can’t see in.”
    She stood up. “What do we do now?”
    “I don’t know.”
    I went over and got the gun out of my coat. I slid the
    clip out and looked at it. There was one cartridge in it. Two, I thought, with the one in the chamber.
    “We can’t just stay here,” she said.
    “You got a better idea?” I checked the safety again and shoved the gun in my belt.
    I fished in my pocket for a cigarette. The pack was empty. I went over to the coat and got another. I opened it, and gave her one. We sat down at the table. I could see out across the meadow without being directly behind the window.
    “Couldn’t we sneak out the back door and get to the car?” she asked.
    “Sure,” I said. “You might even get it out of the shed before he killed you. You’ve seen him shoot that