Suzie’s House 91: Crashers

Joe and his brother Sean are not nice men. Joe shot Vin weeks ago and since then Sean has stalked Ben while running a little web-based game involving intentional car accidents. In last week’s episode, Christina, the CIA agent, revealed their whereabouts.

Joe always struck Sean as being a bit fey when he got that look in his eyes. He sat in the front parlor of Ravenhorst’s farm house and stared out the window at the highway like he had all day every day since they arrived in the car Sean stole from in front of a 4-plex in Madison.

Joe lurched to his feet with a furrow between his eye brows. He stalked to the window as stiff legged as a cat walking across a puddle. His tension was spooky.

“What is it?” Sean got up and joined Joe at the window. A car pulled off the highway into the hard-packed, dirt yard.

“It’s him! The cop!” Joe dropped into a fighting stance as he said it, then sprinted for the door.

Only, there was no point in running into the yard where their car sat because that’s where the cop parked. They could hear car doors opening and closing.

“Out the window!”

Sean didn’t argue. Joe’s sense of direction and keen hearing had saved them plenty of times. They shoved a screen out of the way, and dropped into the untended grass. He could hear knocking on the back door as they ran along the side of the house.

He itched to get at one of the cars parked near by, but couldn’t do it without being seen, and knew Joe wouldn’t take the chance. That or he’d start shooting and they’d be in real trouble. Ravenhorst didn’t approve of violence.

When Joe ran to a clump of bushes, something thorny like raspberry, Sean followed. They struck out cross country. Sean suspected Joe had no real plan, except to get away.

“Someone ratted us out,” Joe muttered over his shoulder.

“Yeah, but who? No one but Ravenhorst knew.” Sean eyes a tractor as they hit an open field and just ran.

“Christina, that’s who.”

“No, no,” Sean said, shaking his head at the very thought. “Christina wouldn’t do that to me!”

“She would do it to me in a heartbeat. Well, now. What do we do?” Joe stopped on the shelter of a stand of trees. They’d gone over a couple of hills, but could still see as the cop and a couple of other people came out of the farm house with Ravenhorst, talking. Joe was breathing harder than he ought to, and twitched his shoulders uncomfortably. His off hand went over the wound in his arm in an unconscious gesture of comfort., like a child rubbing a scratch.

Sean surreptitiously examined the angry, red mar on his brother’s skin. Could it be that Joe had taken worse from their injuries? And wouldn’t that be an laugh, to have the man who might well have let him die in a squalid apartment come down with an infection while Sean himself felt hale and hardy.

Then he recalled waking to find Joe tending to him, cleaning his wound, feeding him endless amounts of soup, adding a blanket. Who had there been to do the same for Joe. Well then, it was Sean’s turn.

“Come.” Sean squeezed Joe’s shoulder. “I know just the place.”

“Where? Ireland?”

“No, you balmy idiot. A friend’s apartment. One Christina doesn’t know about.” Shaking his head and muttering “Ireland indeed.”

“Seriously, it wouldn’t hurt to leave town, maybe leave the country.” Joe fell in with him as Sean headed off in a new direction.

“You said that before. I’ll tell you again, I’m not leaving. I like it here. And *I* didn’t shoot anyone.

Sean lead the way through the woods, skirting a corn field full of tender shoots too short to hide among. He knew exactly where the nearest in attended car might be stolen from.

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