Lethal(24)

She tried to preserve the moment, seal it inside her heart and mind, memorize the smell and feel of Emily’s sweet little body, which felt incredibly small, fragile, and vulnerable. Maternal love pierced her heart.

But eventually she had to let go. She eased Emily back onto her pillow and forced herself to leave the room. Coburn was lurking in the hallway just outside the door. As she pulled it shut, she looked up into the unfeeling mask of his face.

“If you… do something to me, please don’t let her see. She’s no threat to you. No purpose would be served by harming her. She—”

A cell phone rang.

Determining that it was hers, he took it from his pocket, glanced at the readout, and passed it to her. “Same as before. Put it on speaker. Find out what you can about the hunt for me, but don’t make it obvious.”

She answered with, “Hi, Stan.”

“How are you feeling? Emily okay?”

“You know how kids are. They bounce back from these things quicker than adults do.”

“The party still on for tomorrow night, then?”

“Of course.” Looking into Coburn’s bloodshot eyes, she asked, “Any news about the fugitive?”

“He’s still on the loose, but it’s only a matter of time. He’s been out there going on twenty-four hours. He’s either already dead or weakened to the point of being easy prey.”

He told her about the stolen boat and the place at which Coburn had launched it. “Dozens of boats are searching the waterways and will be through the night. The whole area is crawling with lawmen.”

“But if he has a boat—”

“Not a very reliable one from what I understand. Nobody thinks it will get him far.”

“It might have sunk already,” Honor ventured.

“Then unless he sunk with it, they’ll pick up his trail. They’ve got excellent trackers and dogs going over solid ground.”

He urged her to rest well, then they said good night and signed off. As Coburn took the phone from her, she felt disheartened. Stan’s news didn’t bode well for her and Emily. As Coburn’s chances of escape dwindled, so did theirs.

But rather than reveal the desperation she felt, she played up the hopelessness of his situation. “Instead of tearing into the walls of my house, why don’t you get out of the area while you can? Take my car. Between now and daylight, you could cover—”

Her words came to an abrupt halt when she heard the throaty growl of a small motor, getting closer, growing louder. She spun away from Coburn and bolted toward the living room.

But if Coburn’s reflexes had been slowed by exhaustion, they were boosted by the sound of the motorboat. He was on her before she got halfway across the room. One arm closed around her waist like a pincer and hauled her up against him as his other hand clamped down hard over her mouth.

“Don’t go stupid on me now, Honor,” he whispered in her ear. “Get out there before they reach the porch. Talk loud enough for me to hear. If I sense that you’re trying to send them a signal, I won’t hesitate to act. Remember that I’m ‘prey’ to them, so I’ve got nothing to lose. Before you get cute, think about me standing over your daughter’s bed.”

The boat’s motor was now idling. She saw lights dancing through the trees, heard masculine voices.

“You got it?” he repeated, shaking her slightly.

She nodded.

Gradually he released her and withdrew his hand from her mouth. She turned around to face him. She gasped, “I beg you, don’t hurt her.”

“It’s up to you.”

He spun her around and prodded her lower spine with the barrel of the pistol. “Go.”

Her legs were shaking. She gripped the doorknob and took several deep breaths, then pulled the door open and stepped out onto the porch.

Two men were coming up the path from the dock, sweeping her property with their flashlights, the bright beams penetrating the shrubbery. They wore badges on their uniform shirts. Gun belts were strapped to their hips. One of them raised his hand in greeting.

“You Mrs. Gillette?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be alarmed, ma’am. We’re sheriff’s deputies.”

Remembering Coburn’s instructions, she took the porch steps down to ground level. She knew he’d be watching from the window in Emily’s bedroom. His warning echoed inside her head, making her stomach pitch.

Trying to disguise her fear as curiosity, she asked, “Is something wrong? What can I do for you?”

They introduced themselves by name and produced their identification. “We’re searching for the suspect in last night’s mass murder in Tambour.”

“I heard about that. It was awful.”

“Yes, ma’am. We have reason to think that the suspect is still in the region.”

“Oh.”

The deputy gave the space between them a reassuring pat. “He could be miles from here, but we’re canvassing all the houses along this bayou, hoping someone can provide us with useful information.” He rattled off a basic physical description of the man hiding inside her house. Honor envisioned him standing over Emily with a pistol in his hand.

So when the second deputy asked, “Have you seen anyone fitting that description, ma’am?” she replied immediately. “No.”