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“We need to stay together. All of us,” Quintin told them.
Kat felt as if she were staring down at a scene in a play, and someone had forgotten a line.
What in God’s name had tipped everyone off? How had her mother, the soul of trust, figured out—and so quickly—that there was something unsavory about their uninvited guests?
And how had the creep, Quintin, realized that her parents were suspicious?
“This is my house,” David said. “We’re happy to keep you from freezing to death, but you’ll behave by my rules in my house.”
“Can’t, sorry,” Scooter said. He actually looked a little sad.
“Oh? Come on now, we were just about to have dinner, so let’s all honor the spirit of the holiday and sit down together.”
Good acting job, Dad, Kat cheered silently, then realized that it hadn’t made any difference.
Quintin was staring at her mother. “What made you become so mistrustful? Surely you’re not a detective, but…a psychiatrist, perhaps? No matter. Yes, this is your house. But I’m the one with a gun. In fact, my friend Scooter has a gun, too. Neither one of us wants to hurt you, but we’re outnumbered. Thankfully, you seem to be a nice family. A smart family. So I’m sure you’ll see the wisdom of behaving when I tell you that if any one of you gets out of line…Mom here gets it. So the rest of you might be able to take us, but you’d go through the rest of your neat little suburban lives without a mom. So we all stay together,” he said softly. “Can’t take any chances. After all, you might have a gun of your own squirreled away somewhere,” he said, turning to her father.
“Bullshit!”
Her father was a big man—in good shape, as well. He lunged at Quintin, and her brothers, bless them, followed his lead. But Quintin was fast. He pulled his gun before her father got to him.
“Stop now, or Mom is dead!” Quintin roared.
The sound of a bullet blasting ripped through the night, followed by the shattering of glass exploding into a thousand pieces, as Scooter took out a lamp.
“Nobody move,” Quintin said.
Everybody stood still, as ordered. Brenda started to cry.
“Shut up!” Quinton said.
Frazier put his arm around Brenda, drawing her close to him.
Uncle Paddy seemed the least disturbed of all of them. He seemed to be assessing the invaders with remarkably sober eyes.
“No more heroics,” Quintin said. “We’ve given you one chance. Next time, someone dies. Because I’m not going to prison again, ever. I’d rather die first. And if I’m going to die, I’ll happily take someone with me. Understand?”
Her poor father, Kat thought. She had never seen him in so much agony. His whole family was threatened, and he was powerless.
A sense of panic seized Kat, like a wave of cold that washed over her and left her trembling. For a moment the world went black. She fell back against the wall in an effort to remain vertical as she fought the nausea that seemed to grip her stomach with an icy, merciless hand.
She inhaled deeply and tried to think. Despite their threats, she didn’t know if the pair had ever actually murdered anyone. They were probably thieves. On the other hand…
They were armed. And they had introduced themselves, she realized with a further wave of nausea. That could only mean that whether they’d killed before or not, they weren’t planning to leave any witnesses. She shuddered, fear threatening to consume her. She only hoped they hadn’t realized just how much danger they were in.
She fought it. She was the only hope her family had.
“All right, folks, if we’re all calm, we can get through this. I want your cell phones. Now,” Quintin said.
Jamie and Frazier reached into their pockets. As Jamie handed his over, he said, “There’s no service out here now, anyway. We’re lucky to stand on the roof and get service even when there isn’t a storm.”
“You never know. Come on, come on, the rest of the cell phones,” Quintin said.
David immediately produced his from his pocket.
“Mine’s in my purse,” Brenda squeaked.
“And where would that be?”
“Right there—the table by the door,” Frazier said.
“Get it,” Quintin ordered him.
“How about you, Mom? Where’s yours?”
“Don’t you call her Mom,” Jamie warned.
“Jamie…” David said.
“My name is Skyler,” her mother told the men.
“Fine. Skyler, where’s your phone?”
“In the kitchen, charging,” she said.
“And yours, pops?” Quintin asked Paddy as Frazier handed over Brenda’s phone.
“I wouldn’t be havin’ one of those new-fangled things,” Uncle Paddy said.
“Everyone in the entire world has a cell phone,” Quintin said.
“I’d not be the entire world,” Paddy said.
“Watch it, old man,” Quintin warned.
“He really doesn’t have a cell phone,” Frazier interjected.
Quintin eyed him long and hard. “You’re a big kid. Feisty, I imagine, like your dad. Don’t go playing Superman. I do mean it. You do, and someone will die.”
“He’s not going to be Superman,” Skyler said quickly. “None of us will, okay?”
“Just remember this. I will not go back to prison,” Quintin said.
“Let’s eat,” Scooter said cheerfully, and actually gave her father a friendly punch on the shoulder. “So how is the missus in the kitchen? Is she a good cook?”
“It’s all right, David,” Skyler said softly, when he started tensing. She stared at him, her eyes pleading.
David managed to choke out an answer. “She’s a wonderful cook. And you obviously mean what you say, so don’t worry. We’ll cooperate in every way.”
“Bastards,” Uncle Paddy suddenly hissed, thumping his cane for emphasis.
“Paddy, quit banging your cane and shut up,” her mother snapped. “We’ll have no one dying here tonight. Jamie and Frazier, Scooter can accompany you to the family room. Just grab the bar stools—I’ll be happy to sit on one.”
“Me, too,” Brenda chimed in, the tear tracks drying on her cheeks.
“Quintin, you can join the rest of us in the kitchen.”
Her mother had somehow taken control. Amazing, Kat marveled.
Quintin laughed. “Yes, ma’am. We seem to have ourselves an Irish matriarch here, Scooter. There’s no one fiercer. And she’s a fine cook, we’re told. Good thing, because I’m starving. And freezing.”
“There are sweaters in the hall closet, right over there,” Skyler said, pointing. “Take off your coats. I don’t want you sitting at my table in those filthy coats.”
Mom, be careful! They’ll shoot you for sure, Kat thought, her heart sinking.
But Quintin only laughed again. “All right. You,” he said, indicating Brenda, “get the sweaters, so we can all have dinner.”
He stared at Brenda, who was staring back at him like a doe caught in the headlights of a speeding car.
“Hop to it!” Quintin said, and Brenda did.
“What about Crai—” Scooter began, doffing his coat and accepting one of David’s old sweaters.
“Later,” Quintin said.
“But it’s freezing out,” Scooter said.
“Later, after dinner.”
“But—”
“What happens, happens,” Quintin said.
What the hell are they talking about? Kat wondered. Who or what is “Crai”?
“We’ll put your coats in the mudroom,” Skyler said, and Kat could see that her mother was trembling as she picked up Scooter’s discarded coat and tossed it into the small tiled mudroom off one side of the foyer where they were standing.
“I’ll hang mine, if you don’t mind,” Quintin said, suiting his actions to the words. “Now let’s go. I’m starving.”
He looked up suddenly, and Kat instantly backed even farther into the shadows, her heart thundering. Had he seen her? Apparently not, because he set his hand on Skyler’s shoulder and repeated, “Let’s go.”
“Get your hands off her,” David said.
Quintin seemed surprised, but he only smiled. “Just remember, everyone on good behavior. Everyone. We keep close together, like a good family, and no one gets hurt.”
They left the entry hall and moved into the kitchen, and Kat was left alone with her roiling thoughts.
She felt frozen, paralyzed, but she knew she had to get past that. Her mother had kept them from knowing she was in the house for a reason: so she could save the family.
Or so she could live when the invaders massacred the rest of the family.
No. That wasn’t going to happen. She would find a way to make sure of it.
She prayed silently for strength. What the hell should she do? How was she supposed to get help in the middle of a blizzard?
She couldn’t wait until the weather calmed down, because Quintin and Scooter were waiting for the same thing. Then they would no doubt steal one of the family’s cars and get back on the road.
And before they went on the road…
They would kill her entire family. They hadn’t hidden their faces. They had blithely offered their names. Of course, they might have made up the names they had given, but she didn’t think so. The most likely scenario was that they would have dinner, savor the warmth of the house and then kill her entire family.
She turned and hurried silently down the hall to her room. She tried her cell first, but she wasn’t at all surprised to discover she had no service. She hesitated, then quickly tried the landline. But either the wires were down or their unwelcome visitors had cut the lines.
Think, she commanded herself. There had to be something she could do.
She could run, but where?
Oh God, it was all up to her. And she was in a panic, failing…
She drew a deep breath.
She could not—would not—fail.
She must be in a state of delayed shock, Skyler decided. She should be paralyzed, either entirely mute or screaming, but instead she was talking, moving, almost normally. They all were, thanks to that basic instinct for survival that kicked in no matter how dire the circumstances.
The singer on the CD that had gone on playing in the background moved on to “O Holy Night.” She had wanted peace so badly before but now…
Now she just wanted everyone to live.
“What the hell is that stuff?” Scooter asked, staring at one of the serving dishes.
“Bacon and cabbage, to go with the corned beef,” David said sharply. Bless him, he was actually bristling at the insult to her cooking, despite the circumstances.
“Don’t look like bacon,” Scooter said.
“It’s more like Canadian bacon,” Frazier said. “It’s the Irish tradition to have bacon with the cabbage.”
“Cabbage is worse than bacon,” Scooter said, wrinkling his nose.
“Taste it. All the flavors mix together. It’s good,” Skyler heard herself say as if she were coaxing a five-year-old. “Brenda, would you pass the potatoes, please?”
She could do this. They all could. It was the only way to stay alive. Because if they didn’t stay calm and pull this off…
At least, she prayed, Kat would survive.
As Scooter reluctantly accepted the bowl of cabbage, Skyler dared a glance at David. His jaw was locked, a pulse ticking at his throat. His eyes touched hers, and they were filled with humiliation. He had failed to protect his family. He wanted to do something.
She shook her head. No.
