He blinked. “I—what?”
Old negotiator tactic: get the bad guy to focus on the answers to a series of practical, nuts-and-bolts questions. When they’re focused on the mundane, it’s harder for them to think about whatever horrible thing they were planning to do.
“A van or truck? We can go over to Susan’s right now and load up that stuff. You can take it with you and leave town tonight. All we need is your transport.”
“Ah …” His gun hand wavered while he thought about it, and I deliberately did not look at either his hand or the weapon. I just kept an expression of calm interest on my face.
“No,” he finally said. “No. I just have the sedan. If I can get a truck—”
I held my hands out to my sides, slowly. No big movements. “I have a truck. It’s not new, but it runs perfectly. I’d be happy to lend it to you or even give it to you, if it helps you get what you want and me to get what I want.”
He looked at me with interest. “What do you want?”
I nodded at Tess. “I want her. Unharmed. I’m more than happy to give you my truck to get her.”
I saw the faintest hint of humor in Tess’s eyes, and I knew I’d hear later about how she was worth at least an old truck to me.
Please, let there be a later.
His eyes widened suddenly, and then he shook Tess again. “You’re Jack Shepherd! The fighter. The tiger guy. Argh! I heard you were out of town.Great, Ish. Just great. You’ve messed this up royally.”
He muttered to himself for a minute. He was clearly having a complete mental or emotional breakdown. Maybe from the stress of losing his mom; maybe from the scheme about magical objects. I didn’t know and didn’t care. I just wanted him to snap back into rationality.
Irrational people were the most dangerous opponents because there was no way to predict what they’d do next.
When he finally wound his rant down, he stared at me. His gun hand still didn’t waver, though, so I stayed where I was, silent, until he spoke to me again.
“You’re not going to give me your truck. You’re going to kill me and eat me or something horrible.”
I shook my head, still projecting calm. “I’m not much for cannibalism. I prefer a good beefsteak. And I don’t have a horse in this race. You can have every magical object in Dead End, for all I care. I just want to facilitate that, so you give me Tess unharmed.”
He considered it, but I saw in his eyes the exact moment he rejected the idea.
“No. I don’t trust you. I’m taking your truck, and I’m taking Tess with me. I’ll set her free after I load the treasure into the truck and leave Dead End. I can drop her at the beach or something.”
Tess’s shoulders slumped a fraction of an inch. I knew she’d been hoping against hope that he’d be reasonable. When she looked up at me, I saw we were back atout of the box, and I braced myself to lunge.
“Aloysius, I have a question,” she said calmly.
“Who doesn’t?” he sneered. “Whatever. What’s your question?”
She turned her head to look him fully in the face, ignoring the gun. “Why did you kill your mother?”
Shock shone in his eyes. “What? What? I DIDN’T KILL MY MOTHER!”
She jerked away from the gun he was waving in her face, pulling her arm out of his grasp. He lunged at her and grabbed her by the neck, still screaming about how he didn’t kill his mother.
But the instant he touched the skin of her neck, Tessshrieked.Nobody who heard her would have ever doubted her banshee heritage. She threw her head back and shrieked, long and loud, and then she snapped her head down to stare at Ish.
“I see your death, Aloysius Phleabottom,” she snarled, her fact twisted in a hideous grimace.
He flinched and let her go, then scrambled back and away from her, the gun forgotten in his hand when she shrieked again.
“What? No! No, I don’t want to know! Please don’t tell me. Please, please,” he sniveled, huddling in on himself.
I didn’t wait for him to come back to his senses. The second he let his gun hand fall, I shifted and leaped. He’d barely gotten his last “please” out when I landed in front of him and slapped the gun out of his hand with one giant paw.
Then I knocked him down and sat on him.
