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  Her hand rested on a handle, a lever. She pushed it down carefully. It made a slight squeal. She waited, and then pushed again and the door clicked. The latch was free. One inch. Two. The door swung away and she listened.

  She could hear the faint sound of voices, but couldn’t tell from which direction. She peeked through the crack. The doorway led into a short hall. She saw a kitchen to her left, but couldn’t get a view in the other direction.

  She eased the door fully open and stepped into the hallway. To the right of her was the front door of the house. She saw an archway that led to another room. That must be the living room, and that’s where the voices were coming from, a little louder now, though she still couldn’t make out what they were saying. She could hear a man’s voice. Jake Lincoln must have come. Perfect. She would have her choice of targets.

  She made a quick decision and moved to the left, toward the kitchen. She needed to be sure she had the right target, and would wait until one of them presented themselves.

  She ducked into the kitchen and stood around the corner, out of sight of the hallway. She waited several minutes until finally rewarded.

  Someone was coming up the hallway.

  She raised the gun, ready to fire the moment her quarry appeared. The footsteps drew closer and her target stepped into the kitchen. She pulled back on the trigger, and then hesitated as an unfamiliar face stared at her, mouth wide.

  This was not her target. She’d been given no instructions on what to do in such a case.

  She dropped the pistol to her side as the woman screamed.

  Chapter 47

  Thursday, August 25th, 6:21 PM

  JAKE HEARD the scream and jumped to his feet. It was Chrissy, and it sounded like she was terrified.

  Annie looked toward the sound, in shock, unable to move for a moment, and then stood and exchanged a look with Jake. Her mouth was open, her eyes wide, holding her breath.

  “Stay back,” Jake whispered, as he moved to the doorway and stepped into the hall. Chrissy was backing slowly from the kitchen, her hands raised above her shoulders. She turned when Jake asked, “What is it, Chrissy?”

  Then, a girl stepped into view, a pistol raised.

  “Chrissy. Get down.” Jake dove, grabbed Chrissy’s arm and whipped her toward him. They hit the floor and rolled into the living room as the gun exploded.

  He dragged Chrissy to her feet. As Annie dove behind the couch, he prodded Chrissy in the same direction. She stumbled forward, fell, and then scrambled on all fours and disappeared behind the couch with Annie.

  Jake spun around. There was no room for him to hide with the girls, and if the killer came into the room shooting, the couch would offer no protection.

  He had to draw fire his way. He had to become the target.

  Without getting himself killed.

  He couldn’t take the chance to dash across the hall and upstairs. The boys were up there, anyway. Not a smart move.

  The closest thing at hand was the coffee table. A potted plant went flying as he swept up the table with one hand. He gripped it and waited.

  The assassin didn’t appear. He assumed she would be creeping up the hallway and would be on them in a second.

  He listened carefully, and heard a whisper of running shoes on the ceramic floor.

  He moved to the doorway, swung the table blindly around the corner with all his might and let go. It whipped up the hallway. He heard it clatter, and then a moan.

  He’d hit his target, but still couldn’t see her.

  He poked his head around the corner and took in the scene with a quick glance. The table had connected. The girl was on her knees, her head down. The table lay on its side in front of her, but she still gripped the gun.

  This may be his only chance.

  He dove into the hallway and made a flying tackle into the table. The force knocked the girl on her back as the gun went spinning toward the kitchen.

  He dove for the weapon and retrieved it, and then stood and tucked it behind his belt.

  The girl was stunned. She moved her head from side to side and moaned. She must have hit it when she fell, and now she was no longer a threat.

  He stood and scrutinized her. She was just a young girl, and like the rest of the young killers, she didn’t look the part.

  “Annie. Chrissy,” he called. “It’s safe now.”

  The girls stepped cautiously into the hallway and peered at the downed assassin.

  Chrissy hugged herself, her body trembling. Annie didn’t seem much better than her friend, but she put her arm around Chrissy to calm her.

  Jake stood, hands on his hips, looking at the girl. “Now, this is why we need to carry a gun. The bad guys do, and we can’t.”

  He looked up as he heard a frantic banging on the front door. A cop peeked through the small window. “Are you all right in there?”

  Annie turned, unlocked the door, and opened it. “We’re all right now,” she said.

  A young cop stepped in, with a second one, a little older, crowding in behind him. They looked in amazement at the girl on the floor. “We heard a shot,” the young one said.

  Jake patted the pistol in his belt. “She tried to kill us. I got the gun.”

  “You better give me that.” The officer pointed to the weapon and held out his hand.

  Jake sighed and reluctantly slipped it from his belt. “It’s all yours,” he said, as he handed it over.

  “It’s evidence,” the cop said.

  “Yeah, it’s evidence,” Jake said dryly. “Evidence that almost got us killed.”

  “Is that a 9 mm Glock?” Annie asked.

  The cop looked at her with surprise. “You really know your guns.”

  “Yeah, she knows her guns,” Jake said, winking at Annie.

  The girl moaned and opened her eyes. She struggled to her knees and looked up, first at Annie, and then at the cops, and then at Jake behind her. She was trapped and wouldn't be going anywhere.

  As she stood, the older cop reached behind his back and retrieved a pair of handcuffs. The killer didn’t struggle as the cop stepped forward and expertly snapped them on her wrists.

  Jake heard a low whistle and looked up. Matty and Kyle had come down the stairs a few steps and were peeking through the bannister.

  “Who’s she?” Kyle asked, wide-eyed.

  “Dad,” Matty said. “Did you catch another killer?”

  Jake grinned. “Looks like it.”

  Chrissy hustled the boys back upstairs. “I’ll stay up here with them awhile until you get this cleared away.”

  The older cop frisked the girl, retrieved the knife, and then the officers, one on each arm, walked the girl out the door and into the back seat of the cruiser.

  Annie put her arms around Jake and looked up at him. “You may have saved our lives.”

  Jake laughed and kissed her. “I can’t say as much for the coffee table.”

  He carried the bruised and wobbling table into the living room, set the plant back in place, and retrieved his cell phone from its holder. “I’d better call Hank,” he said to Annie. “Then, we’ll need to go down to the station and give our statement. I’ll fix that busted table later.”

  “And as soon as forensics is done at our place,” Annie said, “they can come over here.”

  Jake laughed. “They’re earning their paycheck today.”

  Chapter 48

  Thursday, August 25th, 7:40 PM

  JAKE PARKED the Firebird behind Richmond Hill Police Station and he and Annie hurried up the steps and inside.

  Hank saw them approaching and came to meet them as they crossed the creaking hardwood floor. He looked a little worried. “I’m glad you guys are all right.” He punched Jake on the shoulder and gave Annie a quick squeeze. “I should’ve had the officers stay inside the house.”

  “It turned out ok,” Annie said. “Who could’ve known the girl would be that brazen, with all those officers around.”

  “I should’ve.”


  Jake changed the subject. “Where’s the girl now?”

  “She’s in the interview room. King and I are about to see what we can get from her. You can watch through the glass if you want, and I can get your statements later.”

  “Sounds good,” Jake said.

  Hank turned and beckoned to King. The detective sauntered over and Hank finally introduced them.

  “So, you’re the guy who brought down a vicious killer,” King said, as he shook Jake’s hand.

  As Jake shrugged, Annie thought King sounded a little sarcastic. Annie smiled to herself. He’s probably jealous.

  “This way,” Hank said, and the Lincolns followed him, King coming behind, to a doorway at the back of the precinct. It opened into a short hallway and led to another door.

  They entered a small room containing only a couple of chairs. The far wall was largely a two-way mirror showing a room beyond. Hank waved toward the mirror. “You can watch here,” he said, as he and King went through a small door into the adjoining room.

  Annie peered through the glass into the interview room. It was a small area, brightly lit, with barren, blank walls. The girl sat on the far side of a metal table, facing the mirror, her hands cuffed to a ring on the table.

  The girl paid no attention as the detectives entered the room. Hank sat at the table and faced her while King leaned against the side wall and crossed his arms.

  Hank leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table and cupped his hands under his chin. He studied the girl a moment before asking, “What’s your name?”

  She glared at him, emotionless, cold, as if not seeing him. She gave no answer.

  Hank leaned back. “Why’d you try to kill the Lincolns?”

  No answer.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble, but no one was hurt. It may not be so bad for you if you can tell us about it now.”

  The girl glared.

  Detective King stepped in and slammed his fist on the table. He leaned in, his face a few inches from hers. “You need to talk. Now. Do you understand?”

  The girl moved her eyes and stared at King, unflinching.

  “Just because you’re a girl,” he shouted, “doesn’t mean we can’t make you talk.”

  “Detective,” Hank said, as he gripped King’s arm. “Relax a moment.”

  King straightened his back, threw his hands in the air, and resumed his position against the wall.

  Annie looked at Jake. “Good cop, bad cop.”

  “Looks like it.” Jake chuckled. “But I think they’re being their natural selves.”

  “She’s not going to talk,” Annie said. “I know it. No matter how much King yells and screams, or how nice Hank is to her, she won’t talk.”

  Jake shrugged. “You may be right.”

  “She’s like the rest of them. For whatever reason, their objective is more important than themselves.”

  Hank was leaning forward again. His voice was soft, almost pleading, “Will you, at least, give us your name? That’s all we want right now.”

  No answer.

  Hank sighed. “You’re going to be charged with attempted murder unless you help us. Is that what you want? You’ll be locked up for a long, long time.”

  The girl dropped her head. Was she breaking?

  The cuffs rattled as she adjusted her hands. Her head came up, but she avoided Hank’s eyes, and stared at the mirror, straight at Annie. The cold stare made Annie shudder. Could the girl see her?

  Anne stepped to one side. The killer’s eyes didn’t move, and Annie breathed again. Of course the girl can’t see her.

  King stood up straight. “Let her cool behind bars awhile. Once she gets a taste of this place, she’ll talk.”

  Hank looked up at King. Was he considering his suggestion? Annie couldn’t see his face. Perhaps he was warning King with his eyes to be quiet.

  Hank turned back to the girl. “You wouldn’t want to be locked up, would you?”

  King said, “Let’s lock her up.”

  “It’s not a nice place to be,” Hank said.

  Still no response from the prisoner.

  Hank leaned back, sighed, and observed the girl for a few moments. Finally, he said, “Lock her up.”

  King grinned and swung open the door, brushed past Annie and Jake and through the outer door. He returned a minute later with an officer who uncuffed the girl from the table and prodded her through the door.

  Annie watched the officer lead the would-be killer out. Somehow she felt sorry for the girl, but angry and uneasy at the same time. She was more determined than ever to get to the heart of this case.

  Hank followed King from the interview room, dropped into a chair and looked at Jake. He shook his head slowly. “We have to find out who this girl is.”

  “I’ll get Callaway on it,” King said, “but I doubt if she’ll be in the system either.”

  “Maybe not,” Hank said, “but we’ll add her photo to the package and see if our cops on the street come up with something.”

  “I’m betting she has a chip in her,” Annie said.

  “Maybe,” Hank said. “It’ll be too dangerous to remove, but we’ll get her checked out.”

  “There will be,” Annie said.

  “Speaking of chips,” Jake said, “have you sent the first one to Toronto yet?”

  Hank nodded. “I sent it this afternoon. I hope to hear back soon.”

  “But you have another one, right?”

  Hank squinted at Jake. “Yeah?”

  “Can I borrow it?”

  “It’s evidence.”

  “I know.”

  “And you want me to lend it to you?”

  “Yup.”

  Hank looked at King who shrugged and said, “Why not? Can’t hurt.”

  “Ok then. I’ll get it for you.” He frowned and looked at his watch. “I have to get it from evidence, but it’s too late for today. I’ll get it first thing in the morning.” He paused. “But it’s not really something I should be doing.”

  “I know.”

  Hank laughed.

  “I won’t tell anybody,” Jake said.

  Chapter 49

  Thursday, August 25th, 8:06 PM

  OLIVER CRAIG leaned forward at his desk and held his head in his hands. The bad news he’d received regarding the girl was causing him undue stress and he felt a headache coming on.

  The smoke that wafted up from the Cuban and smothered his desk, wasn’t helping his head either. He butted it, and rubbed his aching temples. He hadn’t heard back from Wolff regarding the girl’s whereabouts and assumed she hadn’t been picked up yet.

  He dug in his desk drawer and found a bottle of ibuprofen, popped the cap and downed three capsules with the help of a long gulp of bourbon.

  He didn’t want to be disturbed right now, and as he heard the tapping on the door of his office, he sighed and sat back.

  “What is it?” he called.

  The door swung inward, and his father’s nurse eased into the room. She approached the desk, a somber look on her face.

  “It’s your father, sir,” she said.

  “Yes, yes. What about him?”

  “He’s gone, sir.”

  Craig cocked his head. “Gone? Gone where?”

  “He’s passed on, sir.”

  Craig’s mouth dropped open a moment, and then, “Dead?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Craig stared at the nurse, not seeing her, and then let his gaze wander across the room. His eye rested on a portrait of his father on the far wall. Dead. His father was dead.

  He blinked and looked back at the nurse. “Thank you. You can go now.”

  His mind felt numb. It was a shock, to be sure, and he’d expected it any time, but now the old man was finally gone, he struggled to understand how he felt.

  He rose to his feet. Perhaps he should go see his father.

  As he entered the large foyer, the doctor was just adjusting his overcoat, ready to leave.

  The doctor
turned as Craig approached. “Hello, Mr. Craig.”

  Craig nodded and was silent.

  “Do you want me to take care of your father’s body?” the doctor asked.

  Craig nodded. “Yes, yes.”

  “I can get someone to make the arrangements, unless you prefer to do that yourself.”

  Craig looked toward the hallway leading to the old man’s room. He was silent a moment, and then spoke abruptly. “Yes, yes. Please do that, doctor.”

  The doctor nodded. “I’ll take care of it for you. Good night then, sir,” he said, and closed the door quietly behind him as he left.

  Craig turned his gaze back to the hallway a moment, and then strode across the foyer and down the darkened corridor. He stopped in front of the door, took a deep breath and stepped inside the old man’s room.

  The nurse, in the chair by the window, looked up as he entered. He averted his eyes from the deathbed and spoke to her, “The doctor will find someone to make arrangements.”

  “I’ll stay with him until then, sir.”

  Craig turned, dropped into the chair beside his father’s body, and looked at the man he’d barely known. He didn’t appear much different than he had earlier. Still the same paper-white skin, with pale, tight lips, his eyes closed, but now in death.

  He thought a moment about the afterlife. If there really is such a thing, and if so, did his father deserve to be in a better place? He brushed off the idea and decided it wasn’t worth worrying about now. He had a long time to go before he would be his father’s age. Perhaps he would consider it then. No use clogging up his life now with thoughts of a God he’d never considered before.

  No, he had too much to accomplish.

  He stood abruptly, left the room and strode back to his office.

  He should let Wolff know. It would be the decent thing to do. Wolff had worked under his father’s guidance many years ago, and thought a lot of the old man.

  Wolff answered the phone on the first ring.

  Craig got straight to the point. “Wolff, my father has passed on.”

  There was silence.