Ruth stared pensively, then brushed a kiss on her baby’s downy head and again Kristen’s heart tugged at the sight. „Don’t hold it against them. My aunt and uncle believed they were acting in Debra’s best interest. I can’t imagine having to make such a choice.“
Kristen watched Ruth hold the baby close and considered her words. Acting in your child’s best interest. Doing what was right even when it was enough to cut your own heart from your chest. She understood, better than anyone would know.
Ruth cleared her throat. „Anyway, it might be easier if Abe had someone with him on Saturday. Would you come to the christening? I know it’s short notice, but…“
He’d been there for her, so many times. „Of course. Thank you for asking me.“
„Asking you to do what?“ Abe appeared in the doorway, holding Kristen’s purse. He bent to kiss the baby’s head. „Your purse is ringing.“
Kristen pushed to her feet. „My cell phone.“ She dug it from her purse. „Mayhew.“
Abe watched as she listened, his apprehension growing as her face paled. She sank into the chair, real fear in her eyes.
„She’s all right?“ Kristen said. She clutched the little cell phone so tightly that her knuckles were white. „You’re sure.“ She listened, drew a deep breath. „I am calm. Do I need to come?“ Her mouth twisted at the reply. „I suppose not. Did you call the police?“ She gritted her teeth. „No, it’s not a damn prank, Dad… Just don’t touch the note or the flower, okay? I’m going to call the police. They’ll want the note and descriptions of anyone who came to the nursing home tonight.“ Her lips pursed hard and she closed the flip phone with a hard snap. „Yeah,“ she said bitterly to no one. „Whatever.“
Abe sat on the edge of the table next to her. „Your mother?“
She nodded. „Somebody left a black rose and a note on her pillow at the nursing home.“ She flicked a glance at Ruth. „My mother’s in the final stages of Alzheimer’s.“
Abe cupped her face in his hand and felt her tremble. „What did the note say?“
„‘Who is he?’“ She lurched to her feet, her face stark. „Where’s my coat?“
„Are you going to Kansas?“ Abe asked.
Kristen shook her head, backing for the door. „No, I’m getting away from here. The guy last night said people close to me would die if I didn’t tell him who he was. There’s no way I’m putting your family in danger, Abe. Take me home.“
From the corner of his eye Abe watched Ruth instinctively hold her baby closer to her chest. „Just calm down, Kristen,“ he said, realizing too late that was the wrong thing to have said. Her father had apparently said the same thing.
„I am calm,“ she said coldly. „I’ll be calmer when you take me home.“
Resigned, Abe stood up. „I’ll get your coat.“
Monday, February 23,
11:00 P.M.
It was too soon. He wasn’t giving himself time to rest between, but he was running out of time. So many names in the fishbowl. Crooks, lawyers. Judges.
It was so cold. He shivered hard, his bones aching. He could feel his throat growing rawer by the minute. The rooftop was hard and icy under his stomach and his fingers were frozen. He’d been waiting for two hours. It didn’t appear William Carson was going to show up. He smiled grimly, his lips cracking. Perhaps the attorneys were wising up. Perhaps Skinner’s untimely demise had warned them against showing up at unseemly times of the night in seedy parts of town for damaging evidence against victims. Evidence that would help acquit the vermin they represented. But the media hadn’t picked up on how he lured his marks, so there was no real reason for Carson to be wary of anonymous tips.
He scowled, bracing himself against the cold wind. If the media knew, that viper Zoe Richardson would have told it. Day after day she made her reports, day after day she suggested Kristen and the police knew more than they did. That woman should be stopped. Unfortunately, she hadn’t done anything illegal or even immoral. Just trashy.
A movement caught his eye. He pushed himself to his aching elbows and peered into the darkness. So the rat had found the cheese too irresistible to pass up.
Excellent. He leaned down and pressed his eye to the sight, wincing when the frigid metal bit at his face. He centered on Carson’s forehead. One pump of the trigger… There was another movement on the fringe of his eyesight and he flinched just as his trigger finger moved. A piercing scream rent the air and Carson fell.
I missed. He’s still alive.
The thought had barely registered when another man appeared from the shadows, running to bend over Carson. He watched in horror as the man whipped out a cell phone. Carson hadn’t come alone. As if guided by an unseen hand, he once again bent, set his sight on the crouching man and fired. The man dropped without a sound, but Carson still writhed. He set the sight on Carson’s chest, pumped the trigger once. Carson’s body went still.
Then he grabbed his rifle and ran.
Monday, February 23,
11:35 P.M.
Kristen stood at her front window, watching Abe’s SUV disappear down the street. Another one. But this one was different. Their man had missed, and left a target alive.
Abe had struggled with leaving her, but in the end she’d insisted and knowing his duty, he’d gone. Now it was quiet again and she stood alone, unsettled and afraid in her own home. She went into the kitchen to make some tea, the routine movements providing some sparse comfort. Then she looked down to see her hairpins on the countertop where Reagan had left them. She thought back. Saturday night. Two nights ago. It seemed like twenty. He’d held her standing right here, kissed her for the first time and made her feel… alive. She wished he was here now.
The doorbell rang and she jumped. „Ridiculous,“ she murmured. „There’s a cop sitting outside.“ A lot of good that did last night, she thought. The bell rang again, longer this time. Wishing the three-day waiting period was over and she had her new gun, she walked out of her own kitchen, her knees trembling. She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and punched in 9-1-1 and poised her thumb over the send button. Just in case. Although she doubted anyone with nefarious intent would be so bold as to ring the bell. But stranger things had happened. This week. To me.
She looked through the peephole in her door and exhaled in relief. „Kyle,“ she said, opening the door and clearing the 9-1-1 from her cell phone.
Kyle Reagan stepped inside, as large as his son. He was a quiet man, having said fewer than two dozen words to her the two times she’d visited the Reagan house. But he had an easy smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes that made her feel welcome each time. His blue eyes were sober now as he examined her face, likely for signs of strain. It was no secret that she’d left his house tonight in something less than a serene mood. He held out a bag. „Becca sent food.“
Kristen’s lips quirked. Food was Becca’s panacea. „And Abe sent you?“
He shrugged. „Something like that. You got any coffee? It’s cold out there.“
„I was about to make myself some tea.“
Kyle followed her into the kitchen and said nothing while she spooned tea into the teapot. „I suppose I should tell you that you shouldn’t have come,“ she said. „But I’m glad you did.“ Her hands clenched on the countertop. „I hate being afraid in my own house.“
„I know,“ he said quietly. „I’m not going to tell you not to be afraid, Kristen. It’s a human response and in your case, a good one. It’s keeping you aware.“
„I bought a gun.“
„I know. Abe told me. He said you’re a pretty good shot.“
She leaned back against the counter. „He did?“