“Or Charlotte?”
“Or Charlotte.”
Stephanie crossed her arms against her chest. “That means you set fire to Charlotte’s house.”
Jamie clucked her tongue “You know about that?”
“It was on the news. You tried to kill her after you promised not to. How can I trust anything you say?”
Jamie chewed the inside of her cheek. “I thought our thing was more about Declan.”
Stephanie stomped her foot. “I told you if you killed Charlotte he’d never forgive me. The end result’s the same.”
“I must have missed that part.”
“You’re so full of—”
Jamie crossed her palms against her chest. “Look, I promise. Okay? I swear on myself. You know that’s the only thing I care about.” She chuckled.
“If they end up hurt after we leave I will kill you.”
“That seems fair. If they’re hurt, I’ll kill myself. How about that?”
Stephanie stared hard at her mother.
Was she lying?
Obviously, she’d never kill herself.
She couldn’t trust her, but she seemed to be telling the truth about letting Declan and Charlotte go. She’d copped to the murders, and if the witness didn’t even know about Declan, he had to be safe...
He is, isn’t he?
She took a deep breath and let it out in a slow, steady stream. “So you promise they’re all safe? There’s nothing you want to tell me now?”
Jamie shook her head. “I promise. Nothing.”
Stephanie’s shoulders released. She’d done all she could to protect him.
I give up.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Jamie threw an arm around her daughter and pulled her close to press their noses together.
“We’re going to have such adventures.”
Stephanie recoiled.
“Stop that.”
Her mother laughed and, with a final squeeze, left the office to sprint through the driving rain to Stephanie’s Viper, covering her head with her arms.
Free from Jamie’s watchful gaze, Stephanie slid her phone from her pocket.
She looked at the image of Declan she used to signify his profile on her phone and touched it with her finger as if stroking his cheek.
Bye, Baby.
She typed a quick text and pushed the phone back into her pocket.
Bracing herself, Stephanie stepped outside.
She turned her back to the storm to lock the office one final time.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Declan called 911 to alert the police and send an ambulance to the house. He rattled off his address and declined to remain on the line.
“Let’s hit the perimeter,” urged Seamus.
Declan’s phone buzzed as he pushed it back into his pocket. A text. He started to pull it back out and then realized Charlotte didn’t have a phone. No reason to check.
No time.
They had to get outside to catch the shooter. Jamie or her gun-toting minions would be closing in by now. They wouldn’t expect them to bring the fight outside. For a little while longer, they had enjoyed the element of surprise.
Weapons drawn, they stepped through the front door and into the hurricane.
Rivers of water rushed down the street carrying leaves and trash from people’s yards. Chunks of palm flew through the air. Someone’s patio chair had found its way into his yard. The horizon flickered as, miles away, lightning struck.
Declan motioned for them to split. Seamus headed right to round the house, careful to avoid the tripwire slung low across the front landing. Declan headed left, gaze sweeping the streets and yards around him. No cars drove past. Nothing moved except debris thrown by the storm.
Finding his side yard clear, Declan continued forward to meet Seamus beside his sloshing lap pool. His back yard had a cement block wall surrounding it.
The shooter must have been in the back yard.
He searched the ground for footprints, but the rain had washed his patio pavers clean.
Seamus motioned to the wall and Declan looked up to see what looked like two silver nubs at the top.
They shouldn’t be there.
Something was on the other side of the wall.
They split again to head back to the front yard and circumvent his wall through the neighbors’ lots.
Declan watched his back neighbor’s rooftop as he approached the opposite side of his wall, surmising the shooter might have set up there.
Nothing moved.
Wiping the water from his eyes, he glanced at the windows of the houses around them. All had the shades drawn.
That’s good.
He didn’t need the people next door spotting him slipping through their yard, gun drawn. It was Florida. They might have guns of their own. A fire fight with his neighbor would not be helpful. He needed to find Jamie or know beyond a shadow of a doubt she’d left, her one shot at catching them off guard during the storm blown.
He hugged the wall and peered around the corner.
Seamus had already rounded his side, making his way toward a ladder propped against the wall.
A gust of wind sent the ladder sliding along the upper edge until it fell, clattering at Declan’s feet.
“They must have shot from up there,” said Seamus.
Declan nodded.
The two men scanned the area. The ladder explained how the sniper gained an angle over the wall, but the shooter was nowhere in sight. The storm had erased any trace of footprints near where the ladder had been positioned.
Declan lifted the ladder and heaved it over the cement block wall into his yard. Maybe they could dust it for prints, though he doubted any would remain after the storm.
He looked toward the side roads, visible down the alley that separated his home from those behind him, searching for headlights.
No sign of Jamie making her getaway.
He frowned. “Let’s get back. I don’t want to leave them in there alone longer than we have to.”
Seamus wiped the water from his face with his
