The Wrong Girl

79

The damn trees were in the way, his line of sight obstructed. Well, good. That meant they couldn’t see him, either. All he had now, besides the Sig, was the element of surprise. And he had that only once.

Jake ducked low, running, following the line of thick shrubbery to its end. A strip of lawn, then the big hemlocks, then the parking lot pavement. He could see the three of them now, walking, arriving at the edge of the parking lot. They couldn’t see him. Nor would Munson be looking.

He took a breath, darted to the stand of hemlocks lining the parking lot. The three were headed for the dark blue Mercedes. Munson behind, holding his weapon on D and Ardith. At least she wasn’t clamped to him anymore. Still, if either of them tried to run, Munson could shoot in an instant. Both of them.

Jake’s window of opportunity would be tiny. Minuscule. Probably impossible.

What was his responsibility here? Save the victim? Even if she was accomplice to a murder? She was innocent until proven guilty.

Or save his partner?

How could anyone make that decision?

Jake had confidence in his marksmanship-but a one-shot deal at a moving car with two innocent people and one asshole? Even at short range, no way. He couldn’t let them get into the car.

It was down to timing. And luck. So far today, neither had been that great for Jake.

The three were getting closer to Munson’s car.

Backup was on the way. Jake listened for sirens. Nothing.

She had to see. Jane pulled back the curtain as she’d watched Jake do. She listened for sirens, squinting as if that could make her hearing more acute. Nothing.

Out in the parking lot-at the far end-she could just make out the people she’d seen in the hall. DeLuca-what did that mean? The woman. The man with the gun. Munson. Did he still have the gun? It was too far away to tell.

She didn’t see Jake. The trees were in the way.

Jake had thrown her a police radio. What was she supposed to do with that?

A sound. Damn. Her phone. She put down the radio, hit the green button on her cell. Was it Jake? It couldn’t be. She looked out the window, crouching below the sill, just in case, so she couldn’t be seen.

“Jane. Tuck. Sorry about the delay. We had to get my car. We’re almost there. Almost at the Brannigan. Wait for us, okay? Lots to tell.”

“Tuck-wait-don’t-”

“We’re in traffic, kiddo. Gotta go. See you in five. Maybe sooner.”

She hung up. Tuck. She’d call her back. Stop her.

Out the window. Nothing. Damn the trees.

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She was terrified, trapped. And had no idea who the good guys were.

One chance. And it was now. He was behind a bush. Five steps away.

“DeLuca!” Jake aimed at Munson, fired.

Missed.

A gunshot. It was. Jane peered over the windowsill. Could not see a thing. Tears came to her eyes. Jake.

Munson turned, fired back.

DeLuca grabbed Ardith, twisting her away, yanked her into cover behind the car.

“Down!”

“No!” she cried.

Jake flattened himself against the wet grass, fired again.

Munson clutched his leg. Screamed. Fell to the concrete.

Jake flew the five steps to the parking lot, kicked Munson’s weapon away from him.

It skittered across the parking lot, spiraling over the snow-slicked pavement.

Jake jabbed a knee into the middle of Munson’s back, grabbed one hand, then the other. Clamped them together with the same handcuffs he’d worn minutes earlier. He hoped the concrete was hard and cold and wet and filthy.

“You okay, D?” Jake called. “Collins Munson, you’re under arrest for the murder of Lillian Finch.”

“Now I am.” DeLuca brushed the grit from his legs as he ushered Ardith upright from her cover. He took out his own cuffs and pulled Ardith Brannigan’s hands behind her back. “Ardith Brannigan, you’re under arrest as an accessory to murder.”

“But I didn’t-he only-I never-it was his idea to kill her,” Ardith sputtered, twisting against the restraints. “Lillian had discovered the footprints. She was about to-”

“Shut up, Ardith,” Munson’s voice came from beneath Jake.

“Such a happy couple,” DeLuca said.

“We’d be pleased to hear your story, Mrs. Brannigan. Might cut a decade or so off your sentence.” Jake couldn’t help but adjust his knee. Munson cursed, his cheek crushed against the pavement. “Oh sorry, Munson.”

He thought about yanking Munson to his feet, then heard the sirens. Fine. He could stay like this for two minutes more. About time Jake had the upper hand. “You have the right to remain silent…”

It was the most fun he’d had all day. The sirens drew closer as he finished the Miranda.

“Hear that?” Jake said. “Say your good-byes. You two are done.”

“This is going be some freakin’ police report,” DeLuca said. “Jake, how’d you get-?”

“Long story,” Jake said.