“It’s after midnight. Is something wrong?” Kyra swallowed to coat her dry throat.

  Wilson touched the brim of his hat. “I saw the lights on and thought I would check to make sure you all were all right. Chief asked me when I patrol tonight to come by every hour.”

  “He did?”

  “With all that’s happened, he’s worried. I don’t blame him. Something bad is going down here.”

  “Aunt Ellen and I are fine. We’ve been up trying to figure out what’s going on but no luck.”

  “How about Dr. Hunt? He didn’t go back to his house alone, did he?”

  “No, he’s asleep. Exhausted. These past days have been hard on him with his sister gone.”

  “Don’t blame him. I have a younger sister in college who’s given my parents a few gray hairs.”

  “Tell Gabe I’ve got him on speed dial and not to worry.”

  “I’ll pass that message along—tomorrow morning.” He nodded and turned to leave. “Good night.”

  A muffled pop then a faint thud sounded. The wood near Kyra’s right cheek splintered.

  “What are ya doing in here?” Connors asked, his gun drawn, aimed at Michael’s chest.

  His wide gaze riveted to the barrel. Connors was the bad cop?

  “Dr. Hunt?”

  Michael blinked, trying to think of some excuse he could give for being in the Carsons’ house. Nothing came to mind. “Why are you here?”

  “A neighbor saw a light on in here. He was sure the killer had come back and was going to murder everyone on the street in their bed.”

  Michael’s cell vibrated again. He stared down at his jean pocket.

  “Aren’t ya going to answer your phone?”

  “Sure.” He slid his hand in and clasped the cell. When he brought it to his ear, he said, “Hi, Kyra. What do you need?”

  “This isn’t Kyra,” Amy said in a loud whisper.

  “Yes, I understand.” He gave Officer Connors a grin.

  “What’s going on, Michael? Are you all right?” Amy asked.

  “Maybe.”

  “We aren’t. A cop came to the door and…”

  Michael started to respond to his sister, aware of Connors’s full attention tracking his every move, but Amy gasped and cried out, “Something is wrong.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Michael hung up and dropped the phone in his pocket. “I need to get to Kyra’s.”

  “No, you don’t. You aren’t going anywhere.”

  A bullet struck the wooden door frame. Kyra ducked back against the wall while Wilson dived into the foyer and slammed the door shut with a kick. She drew her Glock as Wilson rolled over and leaped to his feet.

  “Where’s your aunt and Dr. Hunt? We need to get them away from the windows.”

  “I’m right here.” Aunt Ellen appeared in the foyer from the great room, her hands stuffed into her pockets.

  “Where’s the doctor?” Wilson peered behind her aunt.

  “He’s not here.” Kyra moved into the kitchen, flipping the light off then striding to the bay window that faced the street and peeking out the blind.

  Another shot, coming from across the road where dense vegetation grew, took out the porch light, throwing the yard into darkness. The assailant was using a silencer—like Monday morning in the Pattersons’ house. Adrenaline whipped through her system. Her fingers locked about her gun, her attention totally focused on the area where the assailant was positioned.

  “Where is Dr. Hunt?” Wilson came up behind her.

  Kyra tensed, throwing him a glance. “He had an errand to run.”

  “At midnight?”

  “An emergency.”

  “When’s he gonna be back?”

  “Don’t know. I couldn’t stop him. He insisted on leaving.” The feeling she was being interrogated swept through her. An alarm clanged in her mind. She shifted toward the officer and saw in the light streaming from the foyer that he pointed his weapon at her chest, his back against the wall.

  “Get over there with your niece,” Wilson said to Aunt Ellen. When she moved slowly, he motioned with his gun. “Now!”

  “What’s going on?” Kyra asked, even though she was sure this was the law-enforcement officer Amy overheard the killer mentioning. She didn’t want him to think she knew about the connection. She needed to protect Amy and Laurie and didn’t want to give the impression she’d talked to either girl.

  “You all are getting too nosy. You need to be stopped.” Wilson switched on the overhead light. “I know about your gun in your pocket, Ms. Morgan. Remove it slowly and place it on the table. Then it’s your turn, Kyra. If you make one false move, I’ll kill your aunt.”

  He was going to kill them anyway, but she wasn’t going to point that out to him. She would stall for time and try to come up with a way to get everyone out alive. “Who’s outside?”

  Wilson grinned. “Someone to make sure no one disturbs me this time.”

  “This time? Are you the one who attacked me on the beach?”

  The gleam in his eyes answered her question, clinching their fate.

  “What do you mean I can’t leave?” Michael asked Officer Connors standing in Cherie Carson’s bedroom, blood from the woman still staining the carpet.

  “I need to call the chief. You broke into this house. In Florida that’s against the law.”

  “No, I didn’t. I have a key.”

  One of Connors’ eyebrows arched. “Where did ya get a key?”

  Michael’s mind went blank. Slowly his dilemma leaked into his thoughts. If he told Connors, that would expose Amy and Laurie. If he didn’t…

  His cell went off again.

  “I need to get this.”

  “Fine.” The officer lowered his gun but didn’t holster it.

  “Michael, a cop is holding Kyra and her aunt at gun-point in the kitchen.”

  “Who?”

  “I’m not sure. It isn’t the police chief. I know his voice. I peeked out when I heard the porch light being shot at right outside the bathroom window. When I couldn’t see anything in the hall, I snuck to the foyer and overheard him in the kitchen telling Kyra and her aunt to put their guns on the table. Didn’t you say Kyra was helping the chief with the murders? Then why would the cop in the kitchen do that unless he was helping the killer?”

  “Where are you now?”

  “Still in the bathroom.”

  “Can you get to a closet? If he sees the bathroom door closed, he might wonder why. I don’t want him getting curious.”

  “I don’t think he knows we’re here.”

  “Keep it that way. If you don’t think you can move to a bedroom, hide in the bathtub and pull the shower curtain.”

  “I’m scared.”

  The fear in his sister’s voice highlighted the impotency he felt at the moment. “So am I. Love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  When Amy hung up, Michael wanted to get her back on the line and keep the connection open, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t need to be talking to him. She needed to find a hiding place. He lifted his gaze to Connors’s troubled one. “Call Gabe. We’ve got a serious problem.”

  “We know that Laurie’s cell phone was used to contact Michael Hunt. We know you two went into the swamp on Ken’s airboat and left it in a creek. Where did you go? Why didn’t you come back to that boat?”

  “So you were there?”

  “Not me.”

  Keep him talking. “How did the killer know where we went? We were careful to make sure no one was following us.” Going fast in the airboat made that easier than if they had been in a kayak.

  “Once Michael borrowed his partner’s boat, I decided to put a GPS tracker on it in case he decided to do it again. I needed to keep tabs on where you all went.”

  “And then you alerted the killer. Why?”

  “Simple. Lots of money. I have no intention of staying in this backwater town and growing old like Gabe. I have plans that require money.” Wilson stepped to the table and took first one gun then the other and tucked both of them in his waistband. “Where are the girls?”

  “Amy and Laurie? I don’t know. Don’t you think if we did we would have let Gabe know?” A glimpse of Amy peering around the corner into the foyer caught Kyra’s attention through the kitchen doorway. She quickly swept her gaze away so Wilson wouldn’t see any reaction on her face.

  “Where did you and Michael go?”

  “Searching for the girls, but we came up empty-handed. I don’t know why you think otherwise.” Kyra forced a bravado into her voice while staring down the barrel of a gun.

  Both eyebrows shot up. “Why did you leave the airboat tied up there? Where did you go from there?”

  “We used a kayak to explore some of the creeks that were impassable with an airboat. We didn’t find them, though.”

  “I don’t buy that. Are they here?”

  She stared into his ice-gray eyes and said without hesitation, “No.”

  He laughed, a chilling sound. “Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. You two move into the foyer and stand at the entrance to the bedroom hallway.”

  As Kyra did as ordered, she exchanged glances with Aunt Ellen. A calm expression met her perusal. Lord, this is in Your hands.

  “Stop right there and turn around.”

  Kyra faced Wilson.

  “Amy. Laurie. If you don’t come out now, I will shoot first Kyra then Ellen. Don’t make me come looking for you.” He screwed a silencer on his gun.

  Peace took hold of Kyra. She was in the best hands. Even when she glimpsed the coldness in Wilson’s eyes, she clung to her composure.

  “I’ll give you to the count of three. One. Two. Three.” Wilson pulled the trigger back and released it.

  TWELVE

  Gabe met Michael and Connors at the intersection of Pelican Lane and Bay Shore Drive, pulling across the road to block any traffic from turning onto Michael’s street. “Have you heard anything?”

  “Nope, Chief. It’s been quiet.” Connors closed his car door.

  Michael stared at Kyra’s house, at the darkness surrounding it. “Amy told me someone shot at the porch light. It’s off.” His gut roiled at the implication.

  “You and I will have a talk later when we get everyone out safely. This should never have happened.” His clipped words and fierce expression emphasized the police chief’s anger.

  And at the moment Michael couldn’t blame him. He was mad at himself for not being at the house to stop what was happening inside. Thoughts of assault victims brought into the E.R. paraded across his mind, leaving him weak-kneed. He clutched the side of the car and leaned into it for support. Was he going to be involved in the death of another woman he cared about? He couldn’t lose Amy or Kyra.

  “Amy said a cop was in the house with them, holding a gun on Ellen and Kyra. Where’s his patrol car? Who is it? Are all your officers accounted for?”

  “No. I can’t raise Wilson. He isn’t answering. The sheriff and some of his deputies are on the way. We should wait for them.”

  “We don’t have time to wait. Four women’s lives are at stake,” Michael said as Nichols came to a stop in his personal car. The off-duty cop hopped out, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt but with his badge on and his holster with his weapon at his waist.

  Gabe walked to his two officers and conferred with them in low tones, then they each went to the trunks of the patrol cars and donned their protective gear.

  When the police chief paused in front of Michael, he said, “We’re going in to check the situation out. See if we can find out what is going on in the house. Let the sheriff know what’s happening, but you are not under any circumstances to come down the street or I will personally throw you in jail with great pleasure. Let me and my men handle this. You stay back here in the car.” Gabe glared at Michael. “Understood?”

  He nodded.

  As Connors and Nichols moved down the street, Gabe took a few steps then glanced back and waited for Michael to climb into the patrol car.

  Gabe and his officers slowly and cautiously made their way to Kyra’s house. The endless seconds ticked by while Michael stayed put.

  Father, protect them.

  The wham from the weapon resonated through the foyer. Rigid, Kyra waited for the impact of the bullet to rip through her. It embedded itself into the wooden flooring right next to her foot. Her heartbeat momentarily slowed then revved up to a rapid pace. She fisted her hands.

  “Stop. Stop. We’re here.” Crying, Amy clasped Laurie in the hallway by Kyra’s bedroom, both girls quaking.

  Wilson glanced toward the teens for a second then immediately returned his attention to Kyra and her aunt. “Get over here. You’ve caused me a lot of problems.”

  Amy and Laurie trudged toward the officer, their shoulders hunched. The look in their eyes conveyed fear but also rage. Kyra prayed they didn’t try and do something stupid.

  “Let’s all go into there—” he waved his free hand toward the great room “—and have a little chat. On the couch. All of you.”

  Kyra sat on one end while Aunt Ellen took up the other with the two girls sandwiched between them. Kyra grasped Amy’s hand. Michael’s sister slanted a look toward her, her fear having completely replaced the anger in her expression.

  Wilson stood in front of the coffee table, his glance taking in the sketches on it. “Who knows about him?”

  Although he didn’t explain whom he was talking about, it was obvious he was referring to the man in Amy’s drawing. Kyra tightened her fingers around Amy’s and said, “No one. We just got here and haven’t had a chance yet to talk to anyone else.”

  “You didn’t say anything to Gabe earlier this evening when he was here?” Wilson’s gaze cut into her.

  “No.”

  “I don’t believe you.” He skirted the table and hovered over Kyra. “Do I have to make an example out of you or maybe one of the girls to get a straight answer? Who else knows about him?”

  Kyra assessed his intent and saw determination in his hard eyes. She released the breath she’d been holding. “Okay. Gabe knows and by now the state police and sheriff do.”

  A tic in his clamped jaw jerked. “I didn’t hear anything before coming here.”

  “I asked him not to tell his officers. We knew one of you was crooked.”

  Thunder invaded his expression. He reached back and struck her across the face. “Liar.”

  Pain radiated outward from her jaw. Her vision blurred for a few seconds while a gong clanged through her head. The metallic taste of blood coated her tongue. She ignored all of that and lifted her chin. “It’s only a matter of time before it’s over for you. Amy warned Michael when she called him that a crooked cop was involved.”

  Gunfire from the street blasted through the air. Wilson pulled back, his gaze sweeping the room. He tossed two pairs of handcuffs to Kyra. “Put those cuffs on the girls and around those posts.”

  As she obeyed his orders, taking first Laurie then Amy to the support posts separating the dining room from the great room, another round of gunshots sounded. Her chest constricted. She fought to bring in a decent breath. Had Michael decided to come back to the house rather than wait for them on Bay Shore Drive? The assailant who had fired at the house earlier had a silencer. The shots she heard came from weapons without a silencer. The police?

  “Hurry. You can move faster than that.” Wilson’s voice rose with each word he uttered.

  He walked to the curtains and yanked the cord down then pitched it to Kyra. “Tie your aunt to the desk chair. I’m gonna check to make sure she’s secure. If you don’t do a good job, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” Agitation marked his tone and actions as he backed away from Kyra, keeping a lot of space between them.

  As she twined the cord around her aunt’s wrist, she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault—”

  “Shut up, you two. Now.”

  The whimpering cries from Amy and Laurie caused Wilson to swing toward them, aiming his gun. “Especially you all. You caused this.”

  While his attention was on the girls, Kyra poised herself to spring at the officer. Now or never.

  The erupting sound of gunfire yanked Michael up straight in the patrol car. Were Kyra, Amy, Laurie and Ellen caught up in a shoot-out? What was going on?

  He shoved open the door and stood, squinting to see down the lane with no streetlight. The only illumination came from a neighbor’s security lamps. With the Pattersons’ house dark and the porch light off at Kyra’s, Michael couldn’t tell what was going on very well.

  Heart pounding, he closed the door and stepped a few feet away from the patrol car.

  Another spattering of shots reverberated down the road and sent a shaft of fear down Michael’s spine. That someone might be hurt enticed him a couple of more feet toward the far end of Pelican Lane. Then his promise to Gabe intruded, halting his progress.

  Suddenly out of the dim shadows a thin man came right at him, gun in hand.

  But before Kyra could launch herself at Wilson, he spun toward her. “Don’t think it.”

  Settling back on the heels of her feet, she finished tying the cord around Aunt Ellen’s hands, then took a pace back. Kyra glared at Wilson but clamped her lips together.

  “Let’s go.” He waved the gun toward the kitchen. In the room, he pointed toward a chair at the table. “Sit. If you don’t move, you might just live.”

  Kyra eased onto the hard surface and gripped the edge of the chair on either side of her. “It’s over, Wilson.”

  He moved to the bay window, his gaze fixed on her except for a few seconds when he peeked outside. Anger deepened the grooves in his face. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he turned his attention totally on her.

  “You forget. I have you and the others.”

  “You know hostage situations never end well. You didn’t kill the boys. You can make a deal and give the killer up.”