The Gathering Dusk (Killer Instinct 0.5)(14)

Blake looked back at her. He was a few steps ahead of Samantha in that tight hallway.

The moan came again. And then... “Help...”

Blake nodded toward Samantha. Then he raised his voice and said, “FBI! This is a crime scene. Come out now, with your hands up!”

Silence.

Then...

“Help...” Faint. So weak.

Blake pressed his body against the wall. Samantha did the same. Their eyes met for a moment. She knew he was about to run into the room, gun aimed, ready to face the threat. She’d go behind him, unarmed, yes, but not defenseless.

He gave a fast hand signal to Samantha and then he was rushing into the room, shoving the door open.

And Samantha heard a faint creak behind her. The softest of sounds.

Her head whipped around and she found herself staring into gleaming blue eyes.

“Shhh...” The redhead whispered.

What in the hell?

“Got you,” the woman said.

Then she sprang at Samantha with a knife.





CHAPTER SIX



THE DOOR SLAMMED into the wall. “FBI!” Blake roared but...

No one was in that little backroom. No desperate victim. No scheming redhead. Just...

A phone was on the floor and—

“Help...” A voice said, a voice that came from the phone. A freaking recording. One that had been left to lure them into that backroom. He whirled around. “No one is here, Samantha!”

Shock rolled through him.

Someone was there. The redhead was shoving a knife toward Samantha. He hadn’t heard the other woman—not so much as a fucking sound—but she was attacking. Going right for Samantha.

“No!” Blake yelled. He started to fire but the two women lunged at each other. The knife sliced over Samantha’s arm but she didn’t stop. She drove her fist into the other woman’s face. A hard hit that crunched cartilage.

The redhead howled and lifted that knife again.

Blake surged forward. “Freeze!”

She didn’t. The knife went straight toward Samantha again. But this time, he had a shot.

He took it.

The bullet blasted into the redhead’s shoulder. Blood splattered onto the wall, onto Samantha. The redhead whirled toward him, her face twisted with fury. “You...asshole.”

His grip on the gun was dead steady. “The next shot will be to your heart.” Amazingly, the woman was still clutching the knife. “Drop that weapon, now.”

The redhead moved her body, putting herself between him and Samantha and definitely not freezing. Did she think he wasn’t serious? Did she think that he wasn’t going to drive that bullet straight into her heart?

Then she started laughing. Laughing...

“Uh, Blake...” Samantha began.

“There are memories in this house,” the redhead said. “So many memories. Can’t let anyone else have my memories.” The knife—dripping Samantha’s blood—was pointed toward the floor.

“Blake.” Now Samantha’s voice was sharper. “I think we need to all get the hell out of here. Now.”

“Drop the knife,” Blake ordered. “I won’t tell you again.”

The redhead smiled at him. “Did you shoot George? The same way you just shot me? You did...didn’t you? I thought it was her...” The woman’s gaze darted back to Samantha. “But she still hasn’t even pulled her weapon. I came at her with a knife, and she didn’t even pull her gun. She doesn’t have the killer instinct.” She focused on Blake once more. “You’re the trigger-happy one. You’re the one who took him away.” She shook her head. “Guns are so cold. You can’t feel the pain with them. Can’t feel the split of the flesh beneath your hand.”

George Farris had enjoyed carving up his victims so carefully. “Is that something George learned from you?” Blake asked her. “You taught him how much fun it was to cut up those women?”

Her smile stretched. “I taught him so many things.” But her eyelids flickered and the smile faded. “Then you took him away.”

“No!” Samantha’s quiet voice. “It was me! I did it. I’m the one who shot George.”

The redhead spun toward her.

“You want to make someone pay?” Samantha nodded. “Fine. Then make me pay. I did it. I don’t have a gun because my boss took it after the shooting. That’s the way things work at the FBI. That’s the only reason I haven’t shot you already. I just don’t have my gun.”

The woman took a step toward her. “You’re not getting out of here alive,” she said, the words barely more than a whisper.

“Of course we are,” Blake snapped back. “We’re getting out and we’re arresting your ass. You’ll go with us and you can enjoy some good quality time in a federal cell.”

Her head moved in a slow, negative shake. “It won’t be any fun without him. I won’t be able to watch his work.” Her shoulders sagged. “I couldn’t let anyone else find his prizes... That was why I came here. You both appearing...” Her breath rushed out. “That was pure bonus.”

If she thought going to jail was a bonus, fine. Whatever worked in her demented brain.

The knife suddenly fell from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She tipped back her head. “I’m ready.”