Dark Pursuit

“When you’re done you need to move your car to the garage.” Margaret hurried out behind Pete to show him the way.

With Pete gone, the room fell quiet. Kaitlan turned to her grandfather. He stared hollow-eyed at the door. Kaitlan’s throat dried out. Great, he was already losing it. “You okay?”

He blinked and shook his head. “Yes. Yes, of course.” He pushed up his spine and gave her a stern look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She bit her lip.

His gaze ambled to Pete’s laptop screen, the empty chair upon it. Anticipation lit his eyes. “Craig Barlow’s going to help me with my manuscript.” He mumbled it half to himself.

“What?”

“That’s my plan.” He rubbed a thumb against his cane.

His mind was going. “What are you talking about?”

“His character’s based on mine, you know—on Leland Hugh. I need to jump start my plot. Craig’s bringing a chapter or two. I’ll take from them whatever I can use.”

Shock took hold of Kaitlan’s stomach and dragged it inside out. Her mouth dropped open. Suddenly the crazy things her grandfather had said yesterday—needing a twist, not disappointing readers—made eminent sense.

“You’re bringing Craig here—because of your book?”

Her grandfather’s head jerked, as if he’d let something slip. “Well, no, of course not—”

“Then why did you say he’s going to help you?”

“Because … I haven’t …”

“Haven’t what? Been able to write?” Kaitlan surged three steps away from him. “I don’t believe this!” She swiveled around. “So my coming to you for help was perfectly timed, is that it? Help a granddaughter, get a story.”

Her grandfather pulled back his head. “What nonsense are you accusing me of?”

“You just said it. You’re using me to get you a plot!”

His cheeks flushed. “I am not using you!”

Kaitlan jabbed a finger toward Pete’s laptop. “This plan of yours will never work. But you don’t care, you just want your book.”

“It will work!” Her grandfather waved his cane. “I’ve thought through—”

“Even if Craig leaves here not knowing a thing, the state police will never listen.” Kaitlan paced, panic biting her heels. They’d been through all this last night, but she’d been tired enough to stop fighting. Now they were done for. Out of time and everything was crumbling away.

“Girl, don’t be an idiot,” he spat. “They will listen. With our proof they can tie Craig to the fabric—”

“Stop it, just stop it! None of this matters. The guy who wants to kill me is going to be here soon—and what are you thinking about? Your book!” Kaitlan thrust both hands in the air, her throat tightening. “That’s how it’s always been with you—your work. You don’t care about anybody else or any other thing—just you. The King of Suspense and his writing!” Kaitlan’s hands slid over her eyes. She was going to cry, and she hated herself for it.

“What on earth?” Margaret’s astounded voice came from the doorway.

Kaitlan raised her head. Her grandfather’s eyes were burning coals. “Go ahead, tell her.”

He pointed his cane at Kaitlan. “I ought to throw you out of here, you ungrateful little brat.”

The world blurred. So it was back to this. “Maybe I just want to live! Maybe I just want to believe that you care about my safety more than your writing.”

“I do care about your safety, or you wouldn’t be here!”

“It sure doesn’t sound like it!”

Margaret’s hands fluttered to the base of her throat.

“He just wants a plot.” Kaitlan flung a hand toward her grandfather. “Figures he can get it from Craig’s manuscript. He told me.”

Margaret’s eyes cut to Kaitlan’s grandfather. “What’s she talking about?”

“Nonsense, that’s what.” Her grandfather snorted.

Margaret looked from him to Kaitlan like a referee considering how best to calm a fight. “Kaitlan. Arguing now will only tire him.”

“But he—”

“Do you want Craig caught?”

Kaitlan tipped her head back and sighed. Tears rolled out of her eyes. She just wanted to run and hide.

Pete barreled into the room. One look at their faces and he pulled up short, palms rising, as if apologizing for his interruption of a family argument. He cocked his head at Kaitlan’s grandfather. “It’s ready.”

“Good.”

Awkward silence tremored.

Weariness flushed through Kaitlan, sweeping her anger away. She turned eyes on her grandfather, seeking one sign that she should trust him.

He glared at her, thin shoulders rising with each breath.

Pete’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his belt holder and checked the ID. “Yeah, Martin.” He listened, then drew a deep breath. “Come on, man, we need you.”

Kaitlan swiped at a tear. The overhead light threw shadows on Pete’s pockmarks, digging them deeper.

“I know you thought it would be tonight, but—” Pete’s eyes squinted. “Tell you what, his offer just went up. Five times what I told you.” He threw a glance at Kaitlan’s grandfather, who nodded.

Kaitlan could vaguely hear Martin’s voice, ticking through further excuses. Something had come up, no way could he leave work right now. This wasn’t what they’d agreed.

Pete argued and upped the payment two more times. He argued some more. Finally he heaved a sigh. “All right, man. Later.”