She didn’t have her weapon. Not in her grandmother’s house, when she had thought the case was over. She wished she had that gun. She looked at the person standing over her, brandishing what looked to be an old garden tool handle. A broken, jagged handle that looked more like a stake worthy of dispatching any of the meanest vampires out there.
Dixie hadn’t moved, and there was blood on the front of her scrubs. In her long, blond hair. Miranda wanted to check on her cousin, but she knew better than to take her eyes off the threat. “You have to know this is beyond stupid, Monica.”
“Is it? Why did you have to get involved, Randi? Always trying to jump in and save everyone? Be the heroine. You’ve ruined everything again. Just like always. Why can’t you just mind your own business? Mom told you everything you needed to hear. And so did Jimmy, no doubt.”
Miranda pulled her knees up beneath her. One more push, and she’d be back on her feet.
Monica hissed at her movement. “Stay put!”
“You really think that’s going to happen? I’m six inches taller than you and a second dan black belt in tae kwon do now.” Miranda shot a level look at the disheveled woman standing in the middle of her grandmother’s kitchen brandishing a stake. Monica looked very much like her mother, right down to the ugly attitude. “And I’m with the FBI.”
“I heard. Lesley told me when he called me two hours ago. Said you were badgering him with questions. Thinking you were better than the rest of us. He told me all about you and your fancy FBI friends and that new boyfriend of yours who almost killed him at his job. How smart you all thought you were. Not smart enough, though.”
She’d known Lesley Beise was lying when he’d said he didn’t know where Monica was. That was the last thing she’d discussed with Clint and Joel before she’d left the precinct. Finding Monica. Clint’s people were supposed to be following up, tracking down Monica and tying up all the loose ends. “Did you kill your grandmother that day, Moni?”
Miranda’s phone was in her pocket. But there was no way she could get to it now. Miranda needed a way to defend herself. Yes, she was bigger and trained in martial arts—but she also had injuries. She’d no doubt reinjured her ribs and had a concussion. And she’d been jabbed hard with that rake. Hard enough to draw blood. Her chest was already covered with blood. “What are you doing this for?”
Her ears were still ringing, and she was fighting the nausea. All it would take would be for Monica—who outweighed her by fifty pounds despite the height difference between them—to get in one more good swing, and Miranda would be down for the count. She couldn’t help Dixie then.
First order of business was to not pass out. It was going to be harder than she could think about.
Second order of business was to get that stake away from Monica.
Miranda strongly suspected she was looking at the weapon that had struck Helen Caudrell the second time. No one had seen Monica go outside that day—but that didn’t mean she hadn’t.
Pauline had never confessed to striking her mother that day.
She’d just asked Jim to bury the body.
That had been an important distinction Miranda hadn’t caught. She’d been stupid, and blinded by the trust she’d had in the girl she’d thought Monica had been.
“You never did hold the bat right, Moni—that was one reason why you never could hit it past the infield. You sucked at softball. We both know that. Wouldn’t have even been on the team if it wasn’t for me.”
“Perfect Randi Talley. All the guys loved you, the other girls, the teachers, coaches, your family, everyone at school.” Monica tightened her grip on the jagged end of what had to have once been a garden rake or hoe or something. “I didn’t, though. I saw right through you. So did my grandmother. I’ve hated you since we were like ten.”
“You sure didn’t show it.” Monica had been her best friend. Or so Miranda had thought. Just how she’d misjudged was starting to tap dance around in her head, just like the pain. “What did I ever do to you specifically? I’m trying to think, but I have one hell of a headache right now. Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll return the favor as soon as I can.”
“You’re going to be dead soon. Flo Talley will come in and find her precious granddaughters bleeding all over her fancy tile floor.”
She swung again.
Miranda barely got out of the way in time. As she jumped out of the way, a wave of dizziness hit her, almost bringing her to her knees.
It was just enough to put her in the path of that stake.
Wood slammed into her left arm. Hard.
Monica had grown into a very muscled woman.
Bone shattered.
Miranda couldn’t help herself—she screamed. The inn was close enough to the neighbors next door—Dr. Shane Lowell and his sister, Sage. Joel’s deputy. She hoped to high heaven someone could hear her now. Miranda screamed again.
The more noise she made, the faster Dixie got the help she needed.
“Quit that! Or I’ll hit you again. Just like I hit her! My grandma wasn’t so tough after I hit her. I hit her just like she hit Luke. Made her feel it for once. Right upside the head. With this. I kept this with my softball bat, so I would never forget how I’d felt defending myself and my brother from her. Usually Luke was a little butthead, but he was so sick that day, I felt sorry for him. At first, I thought he was going to die. He didn’t deserve to be hit like that when he was sick. I had to do it.
