Dark Pursuit

“Craig!” She screamed his name as she barreled out the door, veering right. “Craig, I’m here!” Stumbling, she sprinted down the eternal hall, the office so far away, never, ever fast enough to save her stubborn grandfather.

sixty

Kaitlan screamed before Ed could stop her.

Who got shot—Pete or Craig?

Ed’s eyes cut from the monitor to Kaitlan’s fleeing back. As she hit the door and vanished, he took out after her.

She screeched her way down the hall. Ed chased, nerves pinging.

Everything within him wanted to yell for her to stop. But he didn’t dare. He would tackle Kaitlan, pull her into another room … If Craig was still alive he didn’t know Ed was here, another man to fight.

“Craig!” Kaitlan wailed.

They passed the living room on their right. Far ahead, across the entryway and in the opposite hall, heaped a body.

Pete.

At the edge of the entrance hall, Ed snagged Kaitlan’s shirt. He yanked hard, pulling her backwards. She stumbled and fell against his chest.

From the office—Craig’s voice. “Stay here, Brooke.”

Ed swerved toward the kitchen, dragging Kaitlan with him.

sixty-one

Heart bludgeoning his chest, Sam stood his ground, camera trained on the monitor. He’d been brought here to film, and veteran that he was, he’d film to the end.

Margaret flailed two steps and collapsed to her knees.

“Get up!” he hissed. “Shut the door and come work the remote control.”

“But—”

“Do it.”

“I have to help—”

“You can’t help out there. You want that man caught; this tape’s the key.”

Crying, Margaret pulled herself toward the door.

“Does it lock?”

“Yes, but they—”

“Lock it.”

“What if they need to come—”

“Lock it.”

Onscreen Sam couldn’t see Pete. Or Craig. But he’d heard Craig’s voice, commanding Darell to stay put.

Darell Brooke was pulling to his feet. In four steps he was off-camera. He’d headed not toward the door but across the office.

Was he calling 911?

Margaret floundered back to the table.

“Move the camera around, see if you can pick up Darell.”

She put a shaky hand to the console and pushed too far. The camera zoomed in on a blank wall. She gripped harder, panning slowly. To the right, Darell’s leg appeared, moving toward the doorway.

“Follow him.”

Margaret filmed him until he disappeared around the office threshold.

Her breath caught. She swiveled around toward the desk. “I’m calling 911.”

“He may have already done it.”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

Sam heard her snatch up the phone and punch three numbers. Her voice trembled as she gave the address. “Hurry. I think someone’s already been shot.”

She banged down the receiver. “I have to open the gate.”

The gate. Sam had forgotten.

Nothing on the screen. The action had moved elsewhere.

He needed to get it on film.

Sam turned from the monitor. “Stay here, I’ll do it. Lock the door behind me.”

sixty-two

Darell yanked open his desk drawer and extracted his gun. A Glock 17—possibly the same model Craig wielded. It was fully loaded. Darell had inspected it this morning when he moved it from his bedroom nightstand where he kept it.

He transferred his cane to his left hand and clutched the gun with his right.

Darell hurried from the office. Pete Lynch lay in the hallway.

Darell stopped and cranked his body into a stoop. He reached out his gnarled hand holding the Glock, hovered his knuckles in front of Pete’s nose.

No air.

With effort he straightened. He cast desperate looks around the body. No sign of Pete’s gun either. Craig had taken it. He was after Kaitlan.

Idiot girl had been screaming like a banshee. Where had she gone?

Darell turned around to peer at his bedroom door. What if Craig was hiding in there?

No. He’d have followed the sound of Kaitlan’s voice.

Darrel shuffled around and hurried up the hall.

Had Sam gotten everything on film? Craig, pulling a gun. It wasn’t a murder, but it should be enough.

With perfect clarity Darell saw Craig’s immediate plan. Wouldn’t Darell have his antagonist do the same, if he were writing the scene? Craig couldn’t just shoot them. First he had to squeeze names out of them—who else had they told?

How long before Craig discovered others in the house?

In the distance, somewhere off the entryway—a noise.

Kaitlan.

“Craig Barlow!” Darell thumped over the hardwood. “You want to kill somebody, here I am!”

sixty-three

On her knees in the kitchen, Kaitlan huddled with Ed behind the cooking island. Ed was crouched down, ready to spring. He’d grabbed a frying pan off the cook top, as if that would do any good.

Craig would be here in seconds. They wouldn’t get out of this alive.

She’d seen Pete’s body down near the office. If Ed hadn’t pulled her back, Craig would have already gotten to her. She hadn’t cared then. She’d only been driven to save her grandfather.

“He’s okay,” Ed had whispered, dragging her away.

Pete. Kaitlan wanted to mourn the man, but she felt strangely empty. She had no time to feel.

If only they could get Pete’s gun.

Somewhere down the south wing, her grandfather yelled for Craig.No. Kaitlan’s eyes squeezed shut.