Simply Lies

Chapter 81

Gibson could hear the sounds of footsteps pounding away in front of her, though she didn’t know how close; they had a decent head start.

She silently berated herself for allowing this to happen. She knew it was likely that two people had written the phrase on the wall in the secret room. At first, she thought it might have been Francine and her brother. Next, it might have been Rochelle and Doug. But when that was disproved and she had figured Beckett as the killer of Harry Langhorne, she should have remembered the second hand that had contributed to the message. That oversight had cost one cop his life and Sullivan a gunshot wound.

And maybe Francine her life.

But who was the other person?

She reached the main floor and peered around a corner. She no longer heard the sounds of footsteps.

“Look out, Mickey!” screamed Francine.

Gibson ducked down. Two shots slammed into the wall where Gibson’s head had been moments before.

She heard a thud and Francine screamed in pain.

Gibson couldn’t fire back because she might hit the woman.

When she heard them run off again, Gibson followed. She broke into a sprint when she heard one of the huge front doors slam against the wall.

The storm was still raging outside. She had no idea how long it would take for the police or an ambulance to get here. But if Beckett got away with Francine? Gibson knew they would find only her body, if they even managed that.

She stepped off the front steps when she saw the headlights of Beckett’s truck pop on as the engine fired up. Next to it was another vehicle. That must be the ride for whoever was working with Beckett.

Gibson ran forward, knelt down, took careful aim, and shot out the two front tires, and then popped two rounds into the radiator.

The side doors flew open. Beckett appeared on the driver’s side of the truck and another man on the passenger’s side. In front of the other man was Francine, with a pistol against her head.

Beckett screamed, “You’re gonna get her and you killed.”

“You’re not leaving here with her. Then she’s dead for sure.”

“She’s dead now,” called out the other man.

“The cops will be here any second,” said Gibson.

“And we got two guns and you got one,” said Beckett. “So this is not ending well for you.”

“Just like it won’t for you,” Gibson snapped, the rain streaming down her face.

A massive bolt of lightning hit nearby, and struck a tree. That explosion, combined with an unholy crack of thunder, made them all look at the now-flaming tree about a hundred yards away.

The man holding Francine grunted as someone hit him, knocking him down.

Gibson saw this and called out, “Run, Francine.”

Francine sprinted away as the man rose and fired several shots in her direction before he was pounced on again by his assailant. This person pounded the man’s face until he fell limp.

Beckett, seeing what was happening, tried to run over to help his partner, but Gibson shot the man in the leg and dropped him in the dirt, where he lay screaming and holding his wounded limb.

Gibson ran forward and scooped up his gun where it had fallen. She held up a finger. “You move one inch, I finish the job.”

Right as Gibson turned to run over to the other man, Beckett slipped a second gun from a side holster. He was about to fire when a muzzle was placed against his head.

FBI Special Agent Cary Pinker took the gun and said simply, “You’re under arrest.”

Gibson turned, saw what had just happened, and said, “Thanks for having my back.”

“No, thank you. I’ve been after this SOB for a long time.”

Gibson hustled over to the other side of the truck to find Doug Langhorne hovering over the unconscious man. Gibson shone her light on the man’s battered face.

“Who is he?” she asked.

His chest heaving and his clothes soaked through by the rain, Doug said, “Rochelle’s father, Darren Enders.”

When they heard the scream, they both turned and ran toward it.

They stopped near the tree line, where they saw Francine standing over something on the ground.

“Rochelle!” cried out Doug. He pushed past his sister and knelt next to Rochelle, who had a bloody bullet wound dead center of her chest. Right as Doug gripped her hand, she opened her eyes, saw him, mumbled something, and died.

Gibson looked in disbelief at Francine and then back where Darren Enders lay unconscious. “When he fired at you—”

“—he hit Rochelle,” said Francine, swaying on her feet.

Gibson managed to catch the woman right as she fainted.