Cain moved forward in a crouch, leading Tyler and Gage. His footsteps were soundless, the tread of a ghost. The only noise was the tuneless clinking of the patio wind chimes, making their night music.
The gazebo’s interior drew into view. Empty. Most likely Robinson and the girl were squatting at the rear.
He paused at the end of the path, hunched behind the hedge, smelling lavender and thinking.
Best move was to take Robinson by surprise. He motioned to Tyler and Gage: Stay back.
Silently Cain slipped between the hedge and the gazebo. He drew a deep breath.
Now.
He burst into the gazebo and swung his gun over the back wall, ready to shoot the rookie from above before she could react.
No one was there.
Trish wished she could be cool about this, like some TV cop. Wished she could shed the fear that was wearing her ragged.
Her stomach bubbled. A sour taste lay like something furry and hot at the back of her throat. She kept puffing up her cheeks to hold in the small, nervous belches that made her eyes water.
Fear kept a person alert, Pete Wald had told her.
She was more alert now than she had ever wanted to be.
At the end of the path she paused, waiting for Ally to catch up. The patio light was off, making it easier for the two of them to wriggle behind the redwood furniture.
But to get in the door they would have to expose themselves briefly to view. Ally first, Trish second.
With luck the killers would be focusing their attention on the gazebo, their backs turned to the patio.
Yes. With luck.
Cain switched on his flash. The beam, probing the shadowed ivy at the rear of the gazebo, caught a glint of black plastic.
The handset of the cordless phone.
“They were here,” he muttered.
Somehow they’d gotten away without being seen.
But it was impossible. Tyler and Gage had been watching the yard through the rear doorway the whole time. There was no cover their two quarries could have hidden behind. Except …
The same cover Cain himself had used. The hedges on the path.
He whirled, staring down the walkway, and saw a double blur of motion on the darkened patio-Ally in her white dress, Robinson right behind.
Ally disappeared into the rear hall before Cain could even lift his gun. He wouldn’t have time to target the cop either.
Then she went down.
Just inside the doorway, she fell sprawling on her side.
For a split second Cain thought Tyler or Gage had taken her out with a silenced shot.
No. She’d simply lost her footing as she pivoted into the hall.
An easy kill.
The Glock beamed a thread of laser light across the yard, stamping a red-orange dot on her chest.
Trish fell on the tiled floor, wet shoes betraying her, and then she was scrabbling at the baseboard, trying to rise, her chained hands clumsy, and suddenly there was an amber glow on her uniform, close to her heart.
One chance.
She pistoned her right leg. Kicked the patio door.
The door swung shut as the bullet reached it. She heard the crunch of the jacketed hollowpoint drilling through wood. But the door was heavy, with a solid core, and though the lower panel swelled inward, the bullet didn’t penetrate completely.
She twisted upright as three more bullets smacked into the door, punching new bulges in the panels and stiles.
“They just don’t give up!” Ally screamed.
“Neither do we. Come on.”
Trish was running again, the hallway lurching around her as her shaky knees threatened to buckle.
“I’ve got keys.” The words came out in explosive gasps. “We’ll get a car-from the garage-ram the gate.”
Ally’s bare feet slapped the tiles in a staccato rhythm. “They teach you this stuff at the police academy”
“Gate ramming Yeah.” Trish wanted to laugh, wanted to become hysterical, but she had no breath. “I came prepared.”
Tyler and Gage had started shooting after Cain’s bullet impacted the slammed door. They were only wasting ammo and degrading their sound suppressors.
“Hold your fire!” Cain yelled.
Gage lowered his gun and wiped a shaking arm across his face.
Tyler twirled his pistol, Wild West style. “What now, boss”
“We keep ‘em bottled up. You guard the side exit. Gage, take the rear.”
Tyler broke into a run, covering ground in long, loping strides, simultaneously gangly and graceful. His black jump suit melted into the shadows between the house and the garage.
Cain was already on the radio to Lilith. “They’re in the house. May try getting out through the front. Watch the door.”
“You should’ve let me take a crack at her in the first place.”
“This isn’t woman’s work.”
“Tell that to Robinson.”
“I will-right before I blow her brains out.”
He terminated the transmission and quickly followed Gage to the patio.
Someone had to search the house. It was the job entailing the highest risk, so naturally he would do it. Not bravado, just basic leadership skills.
The little rookie was showing some skill of her own, he reflected. Smooth moves-using the hedge for cover, kicking the door shut. She was a street fighter, inexperienced but with the instincts and reflexes of a pro.
He’d thought his threats over the radio had rattled her. It appeared she didn’t get rattled so easily.
Yeah, she was good, all right.
But as the saying went: The good die young.
37
Down the hall.
Through the dining area.
Into the kitchen.
Trish ducked low as she passed the kitchen window. Her shoes, encrusted with loose earth from the garden, were leaving even more obvious tracks than before, but there was no time to do anything about it now.
She and Ally reached the laundry nook, stopping at the side door.
“Where’s the entrance to the garage” Trish gasped, digging in her pocket for her keys.
“Right off the path.”
“Okay.” She gulped another breath. “Here we go again.” Easing the door a few inches ajar, she peeked outside.
The guy with the ponytail. Coming this way.
Close the door, close the door.
She pushed it shut, engaged the lock and security chain. Probably he hadn’t seen her; the laundry area was dark.
The woman named Lilith would be at the front gate by now. Cain was out back.
Nowhere to go.
There might be an unguarded window on the other side of the house. If she and Ally could slip outside, then sneak around to the garage …
“New plan,” Trish whispered. “We try the east wing.”
With Ally she retreated into the kitchen, then stopped, hearing heavy footsteps in the rear hall.
Cain.
Suicidal to cut through the living room now. Trish pulled Ally back into the laundry area.
The side door trembled, the knob jerking as it was turned from outside by the ponytailed man.
Cain’s footsteps approached.
Caught between two killers.
Robinson-the mocking voice on the radio echoed in her thoughts-I’m gonna kill you quick.
She looked around, frantic.
Opposite the laundry nook, a door.
She opened it. Stairs led down into a dark cellar.
“There’s no way out of there,” Ally hissed.
The side door shuddered. The ponytailed man had attacked it with his shoulder or his boot. A crack shot through the frame.
Trish pushed Ally onto the staircase. “We don’t have any choice.”
Another jolt from outside, and the side door banged ajar but was stopped by the chain lock.
Ally hurried down. Trish followed, closing the cellar door, sealing the room in darkness.