Help was on the way, but the cruisers and EMS were to keep their blue lights off until Brad told them to move up to the house. All he told them was that a killer was impersonating his father.
The deputy outside with the shotgun had been certain that the man in the truck was Dr. Barnett. Now, with Alexa and the children out successfully and all four sides of the house covered from opposite corners, all they had to do was sit tight and wait.
If Brad got a shot at Styer, he would take it, but firing at his father’s image, even if the man had probably killed his father, wasn’t going to be easy. He sincerely hoped Winter would make that unnecessary.
Brad heard a series of shots fired rapidly inside the house, and clicked off his safety. Watching the kitchen window, he saw a shadow move quickly past the glass. A few seconds later, the interior of the house was plunged into darkness. Styer had thrown the main breaker.
122
Winter knew styer could be anywhere in the rooms that extended along the north side of the house. He had positioned himself at the end of the main hallway where he could see from the front door to the back and down the service hall. With his back to the den door at the base of the service stairs leading up to the second floor, he had Styer hemmed into the north side of the house. If Styer went out through a window to flank his adversary, Brad or the deputy would be positioned at the house’s corners to get a clean shot at him.
With his.45 ready, Winter waited, listening for a floorboard to creak, a shadow from the lighted butler’s pantry, or Styer’s entry into the service hall. Styer suddenly appeared there, faced Winter with a gun in each of his hands, and began firing both at Winter as he moved into the kitchen. Reflexively, Winter rolled back out of the line of sight, but too late, he felt a dull push on his left thigh.
After Styer went in the kitchen, Winter reached down and brought up fingers slicked with his own blood. He could stand, because Styer’s bullet had made a through-and-through wound. Aside from the bleeding, the shot wouldn’t do anything but slow him down and leave a trail of large red drops.
He was about to change position to cover the back and the kitchen doors when he heard a sharp snap and the lights went out.
Winter slipped off his shoes, and with warm blood running down a leg that didn’t want to bear his weight, he started slowly up the rear service steps, holding on to the railing to steady himself.
An explosion followed by the sound of falling glass told him Styer had opened up with one of the handguns, firing at Brad through a window.
If Brad was down, Styer could get away, but Winter knew that fleeing while his arch enemy was alive was the last thing that Paulus Styer would do. Now he had an escape route, which he would use only after he was finished. Winter was going to make him work hard for a kill.
“Gawd alive,” Styer shouted in an exaggerated drawl. “I’ve done gone and kilt my own man-child!”
123
Back in the dark kitchen, Styer reached into the valise to retrieve his night vision goggles, which he slipped on. He snapped on the power switch and the room came alive. He grinned and looked through the window over the sink to admire his handiwork. Barnett’s body was on its back in the grass, the rifle off to one side.
Seconds later, a deputy made the mistake of running to check on his boss. Styer aimed his Glock at the side of the cop’s head and squeezed the trigger twice. Thirty feet away, the young man collapsed into the icy grass like a cardboard cutout hit by a sudden wind. His right boot quaked as his neurons figured out they had been disconnected from their command center.
Styer dropped the mostly spent magazines one at a time, replacing one before going to the next gun in case Massey used the pause to attack. Styer went into the eerie green interior of the service hall, aiming the Glocks before him.
Massey was no longer in the doorway to the den, and Styer looked down to see his abandoned shoes and the dark pool of blood. He followed the large wet drops across the floor and onto the stairs where there was more blood smeared on the handrail. He decided Massey would be moving down the hallway upstairs, in an attempt to flank him. When he found the bound-up Keen and the children, it would slow him. Styer could go upstairs and deal with him there, but he would probably get Keen and the kids outside on the roof. Being the valiant idiot he was, Winter would stay inside and keep moving down the hall using the front stairs to flank his adversary.
He had expected more from Massey, and was disappointed in him. Wounded or not, the flanking maneuver was too obvious. Civilian life and a family had slowed his instincts. Styer almost felt sorry for him.
Styer turned and moved slowly down the main hall to wait for Massey to come sneaking along in the dark so he could kill him. Time was getting short. Backup would be coming from town. He would get away, even if an army was surrounding the house, because he had planned for that possibility.
124
Winter figured styer had cut off the electricity because it gave him an edge, and since Styer had to figure that Winter knew the layout of the house better than he did, he had to be prepared to operate in the darkness. Only night vision goggles would explain that.
He put himself in Styer’s head and stopped in his tracks. He knew that Styer could follow his blood trail. If he moved, he could be heading straight into Styer, who might be waiting for him at a point where he could watch both sets of stairs and the hallway.
He opened Hamp’s bedroom door, smiling when the hinges squeaked. Inside, he took out his phone and dialed Leigh’s cell phone. After a brief conversation, he left the room and started toward the front stairs, the clock in his head ticking down.
125
In the living room with the glocks in his hands, Paulus Styer sat in a wing chair with a view of the front stairs. He had heard a creaking as Winter opened the door to the boy’s bedroom and smiled. Three minutes or less to wait. Winter would free Alexa and the brats and stay behind to cover their escape. Styer imagined Alexa and the children straggling across the porch roof, climbing down the lattice, and he figured that Leigh Gardner was probably outside in the Jeep-a frightened sow who would not wander far from her trapped piglets. He didn’t care about her. Massey would soon come to keep Styer busy while they got away. But since Alexa knew about the bomb, he would start to look for him immediately, he would have to kill her before he escaped. Without her to tell the authorities about it, the bomb would take up his pursuers’ time and a nice slice of their budget.
Now his entire focus was on Massey-as he had intended from the start. All the rest had just been window dressing. Divine providence, in the form of Kurt Klein, had made it possible.
Styer stifled a yawn with his sleeve, then rested both guns flat against the tops of his legs, ready as a man could be for the next few minutes.
126
Winter was at the top of the front stairs, just out of sight from below.
“Hey, Styer!” Winter yelled down. “You ready to die?”
Styer remained silent, not about to give away his position.
“This is what you wanted, right?” Winter called. “All this death and destruction just for me. Man, you are one sick son of a bitch.”
His taunts were answered only by the ticking grandfather clock.
“Tell you what,” he called. “Turn the lights back on. We stand toe to toe, count to five, and draw. Winner takes all. What do you say? You can’t take me in a fair fight, and you know it, you cowardly sack of shit!”