Dark Pursuit

Crack-crack-crack. Gunshots rang from the north wing.

Ed stiffened. Kaitlan pressed against him.

A stifled yell. Something heavy crashed. The news camera?

Sam.

Ed’s chin dropped, as if he guessed the same.

Deathly silence followed.

Kaitlan pressed a fist to her mouth, breath roughening her throat.

Footsteps entered the kitchen.

sixty-four

When the shots fired, Margaret knew. Sam hadn’t made it up the hall.

It should have been her. If he hadn’t gone in her place …

A sob caught in her throat. Was everyone else dead?

Through blurry eyes she checked the monitor. The office remained empty.

She flung toward the desk and grabbed the phone to call 911 again. How would the Sheriff’s Department get here with the gate locked?

No dial tone.

She punched the Talk button off, on, off, on.

Silence.

Margaret dropped the phone and did the only thing left to do. She prayed.

sixty-five

Craig approached the kitchen, muscles taut.

A gun in each hand, he’d run up the long hallway in seconds flat, the trained, fit policeman chasing his prey. He was the good guy, Kaitlan the bad. He had to view it that way.

He was in this now. No alternative but to see it through.

Passing the TV room he’d had the presence of mind to veer inside and stuff the gun from the man he’d just shot under the pillow of a couch. He didn’t need it; he had plenty ammunition himself. Not to mention backup if absolutely necessary.

On a table near the sofa where he’d hidden the man’s gun, Craig spotted a phone. He knocked it off the hook.

Then, calmly, he proceeded to find Kaitlan.

When she last screamed it had been from somewhere near the entryway. Then—poof. Gone. She couldn’t have made it to the stairs.

The entrance area spilled to a hall leading toward the back of the house. Through a wide door Craig glimpsed tiled floor, the edge of cabinets. Kaitlan could have gone without his seeing her.

He headed toward it.

Sudden motion to his left. He pivoted, gun pointed. A man was running up the long wing from the other side of the house. With a news camera.

Craig pulled the trigger three times. The man tumbled to the floor. His camera crashed and skidded.

A newsman. Craig’s breath bottled in his throat. What had Darell Brooke done?

Craig started for the equipment, thinking to find the film and rip it out. Four steps down the hall he turned back. He would take care of it later. First—Kaitlan.

The minute he’d hit the kitchen Craig heard Brooke calling his name from down toward the office. Yeah, yeah, old man. Wait till you see your granddaughter die.

He stepped onto the tile.

sixty-six

Kaitlan pressed her palms to her thighs, every muscle gathered to run. She could see Ed’s knuckles whiten around the handle of the frying pan.

Frying pan. A hysterical giggle birthed and died in her throat. How insane, this scene.

“Kaitlan.” Craig’s voice sounded hard and cold. “I know you’re back here somewhere.”

She glanced at the short hall leading to the garage. He wouldn’t know if she had gone that way. He’d have to pass the cooking island to check.

“Hear your grandfather calling for me?” The footsteps came closer. They stopped near the other side of the island. “Come out now or when he gets here, I’ll shoot him. I figure you got about thirty seconds.”

No.

Kaitlan rose. Just like that. Craig stood a mere seven feet away, gun pointed.

She nudged Ed with a foot—stay down.

“Well, there you are.” Craig smiled, so cool, so good-looking in his brown sport jacket. Or so she once would have thought. “You’ve led me on quite a chase.”

“How did you know? That he’s my grandfather.”

His lips curved to a smirk. “I’ve known since the beginning.”

Kaitlan searched for words and found none. Her mind had blanked to white.

She gripped the slick tile of the counter. Maybe if she told him she was pregnant … But that wouldn’t stop him. Not now.

Sound filtered from the hall—a muted shuffle. Her grandfather, trying to be quiet.

In a casual move Craig turned and fired.

“No!”

From outside her line of sight came her grandfather’s wrenching “hngk!” She heard him fall.

Kaitlan screamed. Blindly she shoved back from the island. Run, run to him! she told her feet, but they cemented to the floor.

Craig lunged around the island for her.

Ed leapt up, whipped back the frying pan like a baseball bat, and swung. He smashed Craig square in the cheek.

“Ah!” Craig dropped to the ground. The gun flew from his hand and spun around on the tile. Ed threw down the pan with a clang and heaved toward the weapon.

Dazed, Craig thrust himself up on one elbow and caught Ed’s ankle. Ed dove toward the floor, chin first.

Kaitlan screamed again and jumped from their path. Ed landed half on top of Craig, and the two men grappled. They clutched, seeking hold, punching each other’s heads. Kaitlan’s eyes jerked with their movements, trying to find the gun. Neither held it.