Lethal(33)

Honor leaned against him heavily, relying on his support as they made their way up the slope. Now that the crisis was past and she and Emily were no longer in danger, she was trembling. With the arrival of help, the courage it had taken to protect herself and Emily abandoned her. As her friend had said, she could have been killed. She’d thought for sure she would be.

The full impact of how narrowly she had escaped death struck her and brought her close to tears. She’d heard of this phenomenon, of people acting with incredible valor during a crisis situation, then coming apart completely after surviving it.

“He ransacked the house,” she told Fred as they approached the porch. “He was insistent that Eddie died with something valuable in his possession.”

Fred snorted with incredulity. “Not the Eddie I knew.”

“I tried to tell him he was wrong. He refused to believe me. He ripped up my house for nothing.”

“What was he looking for? Money?”

“No. I don’t know. He didn’t know. Or so he said. But he insisted that this—whatever it is—was the reason Eddie had died.”

“He died in a car wreck.”

Stepping up onto the porch, she looked up at him and shrugged. “That didn’t sway Coburn.”

Fred drew up short when they entered the living room and he saw the damage Coburn had done. “Criminy. You weren’t kidding.”

“He stopped just short of tearing down the walls and pulling up the floors. He was dead certain that I had something that Eddie had died protecting.”

“Where’d he get that notion?”

She raised her hands to her sides, indicating to him that she was at a loss. “If you can find that out, maybe you’ll uncover his motive for killing those seven people.”

He took a cell phone off his belt and started punching in numbers. “I gotta let the others know.”

“I’m going to check on Emily.”

She tiptoed down the hallway and moved to the door of Emily’s room. Peering through the crack, she was relieved to see that Emily had flipped over onto her back, but was still sleeping. If she were awake, she would view Fred’s visit as a social one and would be confused if he didn’t stop everything and play with her.

Besides that, as the widow of a policeman, Honor knew she faced hours of questioning. Soon she should call Stan to come and take Emily for the rest of the day. He could be overprotective and overbearing, but today she would welcome his help.

For now, she pulled her child’s bedroom door securely closed, hoping that she would sleep a while longer.

As she reentered the living room, Fred was where she’d left him, holding his cell phone to his ear. “Mrs. Gillette isn’t sure what time he slipped out, so we don’t know how much of a head start he’s got or which direction he’s moving in. But he’s in her car. Hold on.” He covered the mouthpiece. “What’s your tag number?”

She recited it to him, and he repeated it into the cell phone, then described the make and model of her car. He raised his eyebrows in silent query: Was he remembering right? She nodded.

“Put out an APB on the car immediately. Inform the superintendent of this and tell him—request—that I need every officer available.” After clicking off, he smiled at her with regret.

“In a very short time, cops are gonna be swarming this house inside and out. It’s gonna get even more torn up, I’m afraid.”

“It doesn’t matter, so long as you catch him.”

He replaced his phone in the holster at his belt. “Oh, we’ll catch him. He couldn’t be far.”

No sooner had he said the words than the front door burst open and Coburn barged in. He was holding the pistol with both hands, and the muzzle was aimed at the back of Fred’s skull. “Don’t you f*cking move!” Coburn yelled.

Then, a bright red starburst exploded out the center of Fred Hawkins’s forehead.





Chapter 14





Honor clamped her hands over her mouth to trap her scream and watched in horrified astonishment as Fred’s body fell face first onto the floor.

Coburn stepped over it and strode toward her.

On an adrenaline surge, she spun around and bolted down the hallway. He grabbed her arm from behind. As he brought her around, she swung her other fist at his head.

Cursing liberally, he caught her in a bear hug, pinning her arms to her sides, and lifted her off the floor. He backed her into the wall with enough impetus to knock the breath out of her and positioned himself between her legs to make her vicious kicking ineffectual.

“Listen! Listen to me!” he said, his breath striking her face in hot pants.

She fought like a wildcat to get free, but when her limbs proved useless, she tried to bang her forehead against his. He jerked his head back in the nick of time.

“I’m a federal agent!”

She went perfectly still and gaped at him.

“Hawkins—that’s his name?”

Her head wobbled.

“He was the shooter at the warehouse. Him and his twin. Got it? He was the bad guy, not me.”

Honor stared at him with stark incredulity as she gulped in air. “Fred is a police officer.”

“Not anymore.”

“He was—”