The Blonde

12:51 a.m.

Behind the Edison Avenue House

There she was. Running along the banks of a rock-strewn creek that flowed behind the properties. You got yourself a smart woman, Ed. Instead of racing out into an empty street, where she could be easily picked off, she decided to follow a central path away from the danger, most likely planning to emerge when the danger had passed.

Sorry, Mrs. Hunter, Kowalski thought. This danger has a job to finish.

Pumping hard, Kowalski closed the distance. His fingertips caressed the smooth stone he had picked up back at the tree house. Dense little sucker.

“Claudia!”

Always better to use the first name. Increases the likelihood that someone will respond to you.

She didn’t turn, but she slowed for a second, and in that instant a tiny bit of hope seemed to drain from her body. That was all Kowalski needed. He hurled the stone at her head; direct strike. Claudia’s knee buckled and she tripped forward into the creek.

Kowalski didn’t slow down. He needed to confirm death— failing that, induce death—then recover the head and get the hell out of there. Behind him, in what was not quite the distance, the Hunter home burned like a three-story stone bonfire.

Claudia still had a little fight left in her. She was lying faceup in the shallow creek, despite the fact that Kowalski had seen her fall face-first. She’d had enough energy left to flip over. He admired that. Face your attacker, rather than hide from the inevitable. Kowalski could imagine her calling up her last reserves of strength just so she could spit on him as he approached.

He felt for a pulse; it was fading rapidly. She was on her way out.

He thought about leaving her as is. Investigators could surmise that she’d fallen and banged her head while fleeing from a burning house….

Okay, yeah, that was crap. Her neck needed to be professionally snapped.

Before he did that, though, Kowalski surprised himself by thinking about leaning over and kissing her forehead.

He didn’t of course.

Instead, he placed his left palm on her chin, and his right hand around the back of her neck. Then twisted …

Why would he think things like that?

… hard.

Now, back to the tree house. Back to Ed’s head. Back to his handler, back to his mission of vengeance before wrestling with the inevitable, crippling grief of losing Katie and their baby….

Kowalski reached up again, felt around. Got a splinter, but nothing else.

The gym bag?

Gone.