Then he saw a pair of eyes on the far wall of the foyer. They grew wide and he heard a gasp.
She had seen him in a mirror on the entryway wall. He cursed his stupidity as he sprang to his feet. He raised the revolver and aimed, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Too late. She had scurried up the hallway toward the kitchen. Fortunately, she never tried to run back outside. That was a good thing, and should work in his favor.
He knew the layout of the house. He’d arrived early, let himself in the back door, and spent a few minutes becoming familiar with the main floor of the dwelling. The hallway led into the kitchen and she was probably going for the back door. But he knew he could also circle into the kitchen from the living room, and that’s where he headed.
He needed to get to her before she reached the back door or he would fail completely. That would be a first for him, and his employer would be none too pleased.
He couldn’t let that happen, no matter what.
He leapt across the living room and into the kitchen. He raised the gun. She wasn’t there and he frowned.
She must still be in the hallway. She hadn’t gone upstairs or he would’ve known.
He eased across the room, both hands on his weapon, his eye sighting down the barrel, ready to finish the job that had started so poorly.
She wasn’t in the hallway. Did she turn around and circle back? He spun, ready to fire, and moved to the living room door. She wasn’t there.
He went back to the kitchen, stood still, and dropped his gun hand to his side. Listening. Listening for any telltale sound. All he heard was his own breathing and the beating of his heart.
He’d never been outsmarted before and wasn’t about to let this one be the first to get the better of him. Especially not a woman. How humiliating.
Raising the weapon again, he tiptoed silently down the hallway, into the living room, then back to the kitchen.
That’s when he saw the doorway, just inside the kitchen, near the entrance to the hall. It likely led to the basement. He crouched down. A small amount of light seeped out from underneath.
He sprang across the room and whipped the door open. The basement light was on.
He had guessed correctly. He heard a rustling, scrambling sound. She was down there somewhere. He hoped she wasn’t armed. He would need to be careful.
He took the first step and crouched. He couldn’t see her but his ears told him she was definitely down there somewhere. He took another step, then another, stopping briefly each time, his revolver ready to bring her down at a split-second notice. All he would need was one shot—he was that good.
He leaped down the last two steps and crouched on the concrete floor. Nothing. He swung around, the weapon and his body moving as one entity. One deadly killing machine.
Where was she? He frowned.
Across the room. Just behind a large treadmill. A door. It was closed, and he sprang toward it, hitting it fully with his shoulder. The door held. He tried again, and it crashed open, the frame shattered. The door bounced off the inner wall and sprang back. He stopped it with his hand and stepped inside, the revolver ready.
He had her now. There was no doubt.
His finger tightened on the trigger as he spun the weapon around the room. He stopped and pulled the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
He cursed as the feet he had seen disappearing out the window were now out of sight.
He dashed forward and stepped onto the wooden box she used to reach the opening. He hefted himself up, pulled his torso outside, and there she was, to his left, racing across the back lawn. He would never be able to get to her now.
He had failed.
Chapter 17
Tuesday, 4:05 p.m.
IT TOOK LESS THAN five minutes for first responders to appear on the scene and secure the building after Annie called 9-1-1 from Chrissy’s house next door. Officers searched the Lincoln house thoroughly before they declared it clear. The would-be murderer had fled.
Jake had returned home while the search was underway and Hank arrived shortly thereafter.
Annie looked at her husband, sitting on the edge of the couch, his face still showing the horror he felt at the sudden discovery of his home surrounded by cops.
“I had no idea what was going on,” he said. “Naturally, I feared the worst.” He turned to Hank, standing in the doorway. “I went to fill up with gas, and when I got back …”
“I think you should get a better lock for the back door, Jake,” Hank said. “It looks like the guy was a pro.”
Annie tried to control her trembling body. When she had first seen the killer in the mirror, she reacted almost without thought. Her first instinct was to get out of the house. As she dashed down the hallway, she saw him standing, a gun in his hand, and knew he meant business. She didn’t have time to be afraid, but now, thinking back on her close call, she was terrified, and she still shivered all over.
“What confuses me the most, is why,” she said. “Is this related to the Shaft case, or something else?”
“What concerns me more is, the guy might be back,” Jake said.
“We have to stop him before he does.” Hank sat on the couch and looked at Annie. “Did you see his face?”
“Just briefly.”
“Do you think you could recognize him again?”
Annie shook her head. “I don’t think so. All I know is, it was a man, and he wore dark clothes.”
“Hair color?”
“Not sure. I think he wore a cap. He wasn’t especially big or small. That’s about all I can tell you. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.”
An investigator appeared in the doorway. “No unknown prints on the back door or the basement door, Hank. In fact, we checked the whole main floor and nothing.”
Hank bobbed his head up and down. “I expected as much. This guy might be a pro. He likely wore gloves.”
“Do you think it might be Norton?” Jake asked.
Hank pursed his lips and looked at the ceiling a moment. “Perhaps. But for what reason?”
“Maybe he thinks Annie knows something?”
Hank looked at Annie. “Do you?”
Annie shrugged. “Not that I can think of.” She paused. “I think he might have been after both of us, and thought Jake would be here as well.”
“If it was Norton, how would he know we were looking into the case?” Jake asked.
“Lisa Krunk,” Hank said.
Jake looked confused. “Lisa Krunk?”
“From the interview she did with Maria Shaft. They’ve been running teasers all day. The complete story is scheduled for six, and your names were mentioned.”
Annie’s brow wrinkled in disgust. “That woman is always sticking her beak in where she’s not wanted.”
Hank nodded. “And a murder always catches everyone’s attention.” He looked at Annie. “Lisa might be a royal pain, but she’s only doing her job as a reporter.”
“So the whole city knows about this case now,” Jake said.
“Afraid so,” Hank said. “And if it was Norton, we have no way to connect the dots. Annie said he fired two, maybe three shots through the window, but no bullets were recovered. Assuming they didn’t hit anything, they’re probably halfway across the city. So with no bullets, no fingerprints, and since Annie didn’t see his face.” He shrugged. “We don’t have much.”
Annie glanced over as she heard footsteps on the stairs. In a moment, Matty poked his head into the living room. “Can I come out of my room now?”
Annie looked at Jake, then back at Matty. “Yes, but stay in the house.”
Matty leaped onto the couch between Hank and Jake. “What’s going on here, anyway?”
Everyone sat back and looked at Matty, unsure how to answer. Finally, Jake said, “Someone was in the house while we were away, but he’s gone now, and everything’s okay.”