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He opened the door a crack and looked in. The rifle with the scope attached was still there in the corner, propped against the pillar.

His gaze went to the trigger mechanism below his homemade missile. Just as he had suspected, one of the wires had slipped down. It wasn't dangling free. The wind had loosened it just enough to break the connection.

He'd have it fixed in two seconds. He pushed the door open, stepped forward, and bent down on one knee. Then he froze. The voice came from his left on the other side of the bell. "Nice Roman candle you've got there."

Monk was too stunned to move. His mind was screaming, No, no, no. The wire… the string… nothing had been

disturbed. How did…

Another voice came from his right. "I think he's having trouble getting it to work."

Monk lunged for his rifle. Neither man tried to stop him. He rolled, firing as he moved.

Nothing happened. The rifle was empty. Noah stepped into the sunlight. Monk saw him and coiled back.

"You," he whispered. "I know you."

John Paul moved forward from the shadows.

"How did you know?" Monk's face twisted with fury, and his voice shook.

"Easy. I'm smarter than you."

Noah's gun was pointed at Monk's forehead. John Paul saw the look in Noah's eyes and knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Cuff him," he said. "Then read him his rights."

Noah shook his head. "I'm gonna kill him first. Then I'll cuff him and read him his rights."

"Yeah, well, you can't."

"Son of a bitch." Noah released the trigger and put the gun back into his holster. He had the cuffs out and was moving

toward Monk when they heard an agent shouting.

Monk lashed out with his foot, knocking Noah off balance. He stumbled in front of the killer, making it impossible for John Paul

to get a clear shot.

Agents were racing up the stairs as Monk tried to get his gun from his ankle holster, but John Paul anticipated that response.

He slammed his foot down on Monk's leg, pinning him to the floor.

"Quit messing around," he shouted. "Get the hell off him so I can shoot him."

"I'm gonna shoot him," Noah shouted back. He hit Monk in the face, grunting from the sheer pleasure of hearing cartilage snap. He punched him again, trying to strike the exact spot so that it would hurt him more.

The door slammed into the pillar when the first agent came flying across the threshold. Monk seized the opportunity. With every ounce of strength he possessed, he shoved Noah off him and dove headfirst off the tower.

The killer landed on the slanted tin roof. He rolled to his hands and knees and crawled like a gorilla

down to the marquee. When his right foot hit a bracket, he braced himself and went for his gun. He was swinging it up when

John Paul and Noah, dropping down to the roof, fired simultaneously. Their bullets riddled Monk's body, sending him dancing backward like a marionette they were manipulating. He swung around and fell forward, his body draped across the marquee.

Panting, Noah put his gun away and then said, "You have the right to remain silent…"

"Damn right," John Paul muttered.

An agent leaning from the bell tower window called down to them. "Subject is on the move."

Noah pulled his walkie-talkie from his belt. He repeated what the agent had just told him.

"Roger."

"Was that Avery's voice? That was, wasn't it?" John Paul asked.

Noah spoke into the handset. "Avery? Is that you, sweetheart?"

He used the endearment just to piss off John Paul, and he grinned when he saw his reaction. If looks could kill, he'd be hanging over the marquee with Monk now.

John Paul snatched the handset. "What the hell are you doing, Avery? You were supposed to-"

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, we're both fine. Where are you?"

"Roger. Over and out."

"Son of a bitch. She's in one of the tail cars."

They were both sprawled out on the roof. Noah laughed. "You could tell that from 'Roger, over and out'?"

John Paul ignored him and hit the button again. "Kelly?"

The agent in charge of the operation was quick to respond.

"Kelly here."

"Is Avery in one of the tail cars?" John Paul demanded. "Son of a bitch, I know she is. I told her to stay on that damn boat."

"Roger. Over and out."

Noah laughed. "Guess Avery's got a mind of her own." He leaned over the side of the building to judge the distance to the ground. "How the hell are we gonna get-"

John Paul shoved him off the roof. He followed him down and landed in a clump of dead shrubs beside the agent.

Kelly was on the handset again. "Do you have Monk in custody?"

"No, sir," John Paul answered.

"Where is he?"

He looked up at the marquee. "He's at the movies."

Chapter 38

Jilly had grown impatient waiting for Monk to return to the car. What was taking him so long? She picked up the binoculars from the floor and watched the tower. Where was he? He knew how much she hated waiting. "Fix the damn

thing," she muttered. "Hurry up."

Monk suddenly came into view. Jilly gasped in disbelief as she watched him somersault onto the roof. She thought he was

going to break his neck. He came flying down from the tower, but while he was still in the air, he twisted around and landed

like a cat on his feet. He lost his balance, skated down the roof on his hands and knees. She thought he was going to flip down over the building, but he caught himself in time.

Two men leapt onto the roof above Monk. They were moving so fast their faces were a blur.

"Kill them," she whispered to Monk. "Kill them now. Do it."

Gunshots reverberated around her. She thought she heard Monk scream her name, and she watched with detached curiosity.

He fell so ungracefully and draped over the marquee, blood pouring down over the lights. He died with his ass sticking up in

the air. She cursed his incompetent soul.

How dare he do this to her? Her disappointment overwhelmed her, and her eyes stung with tears. The remote. She frantically grabbed it and pushed the button. Once, then again and again. Nothing happened.

Damn. How could Monk be so thoughtless? He knew how important her dreams were.

Stomping her feet on the floor, she cursed him because he had ruined everything. Worse, he had made her unhappy.

"Damn you to hell," she muttered.

He'd left the keys in the ignition. Ignoring his order to take the other car if there was trouble, she hiked her skirt up over her

thighs, climbed over the console, and got behind the wheel. Men, FBI men, she knew, were running to the theater, and there

were people flooding out of the church to see what all the commotion was about. No one would notice her leaving. She pulled

out onto the street, and so that she wouldn't draw any undue attention to herself, she stayed below the speed limit as she cruised through town.

The second she reached the on-ramp to the highway, she slammed her foot on the gas pedal. Muttering curses, she slapped

the steering wheel, trying to vent some of her rage.

She had someone else ready to help, of course. No one was going to steal her dreams again. No one. She knew Monk had weapons packed in his suitcases, and by God, if she had to kill Carrie and Avery herself to get her dreams back, then that's

what she would do.

"Stupid Monk," she hissed. "Stupid, stupid man."

The tail car stayed well behind Jilly. There were three agents riding with Avery in the sedan. Kelly was driving, and she sat

behind him. She tried not to let her anxiety show, but it was extremely difficult.

Her heart felt like it had stopped when she heard the gunshots, and she didn't take a breath until she heard John Paul's voice