Sandra Brown - Lethal

“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 fucking move!” Coburn yelled.

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

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-”

“A murderer. I watched him shoot Marset in the head.”

“I watched you shoot Fred!”

“I had no choice. He already had his gun in his hand to-”

“He didn’t even know you were here!”

“-to kill you .”

She sucked in a breath and, after holding it for several seconds, exhaled it in a gust. Her swallow was dry. “That’s impossible.”

“I saw him headed this way in a boat. I doubled back. If I hadn’t, you’d be dead now, and so would your kid. I’d have been accused of two more murders.”

“Why would… why would…?”

“Later. I’ll tell you all of it. But for right now, just believe me when I tell you he would have killed you if I hadn’t killed him first. Okay?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t believe you. You can’t be a cop.”

“Not a cop.”

“Federal agent?”

“FBI.”

“Even more unlikely.”

“J. Edgar rolls over in his grave every day, but that’s the way it is.”

“Show me your ID.”

“Undercover. Deep cover. No ID. You have to take my word for it.”

She gazed into his hard, cold eyes for several moments, then stammered tearfully, “You spent the last twenty-four hours terrifying me.”

“Part of the shakedown. I had to be convincing.”

“Well, I’m convinced. You’re a criminal.”

“Think about it,” he said angrily. “If I was a killer on the run, you’d have been dead this time yesterday. Fred would have found your body this morning. Your little girl’s, too. Maybe floating in the creek out there, a fish buffet, if she hadn’t been eaten by gators first.”

She hiccupped a sob and looked away from him with revulsion. “You’re worse than a criminal.”

“That’s been said. But for the immediate future, I’m your only chance of staying alive.”

Tears of confusion and fear blurred her vision. “I don’t understand what I have to do with any of this.”

“Not you. Your late husband.” He let go of her with one hand and dug into the front pocket of his jeans, producing the folded sheet of paper she had noticed the day before.

“What is that?”

“Your husband was somehow linked to that killing in the warehouse.”

“Impossible.”

“This might help convince you.” He shook out the folds of the paper, then turned it around so she could read what was written. “Your husband’s name, circled and underlined and with a question mark beside it.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Marset’s office. I sneaked in there one night. Found this entry in an old day planner.”

“That could mean anything.”

“Check the date.”

“Two days before Eddie died,” she murmured. She looked at Coburn with bewilderment, then tried to snatch the paper from him.

“Un-huh.” He yanked it out of her reach and stuffed it back into his pocket. “I might need that for evidence. Along with anything you can testify to.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“We’ll talk about that later. Right now, we gotta get you the hell out of here.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he said with a hard shake of his head for emphasis. “You’re getting the kid and going with me now before Hawkins number two shows up.”

“Doral?”

“Whatever the hell his name is. You can bet he’s speeding his way here.”

“The police are on their way. Fred notified them that you’d been here. I heard him.”

He released her so suddenly, she nearly slid down the wall. In seconds he was back, a cell phone in each hand. “His official phone,” he said, holding it up for her to see. “Last call, an hour ago.” He tossed that phone to the floor. “This phone. His burner.” His thumb busily worked the keypad. “Last number called three minutes ago. Not the police.”