Declan heard a crack and both men straightened.
“That sounded like a gun,” said Seamus.
Declan ran for the house.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“Don’t say it,” said Corentine, holding her gun pointed at Charlotte’s head.
“Say what?” asked Charlotte, her hands raising into the air.
“My name. Or I’ll have to kill her, too.” The gun wagged in Snookie’s direction.
Corentine took a step back into the hall. “Come with me.”
Charlotte’s mind raced.
How did Corentine get in the house? How did she get past both Declan, Seamus and the trip wires?
What had she done to them?
Charlotte felt a breeze ruffle her hair. She leaned to the left to peer into the hall. The storm sounded closer, the howling wind, louder.
Across the hall, she saw the bathroom window open.
That’s how she got in.
Charlotte remembered allowing Corentine to use the bathroom when she’d been at the house earlier.
She unlocked the window.
Charlotte grimaced.
Stupid. She’d been so fixated on Jamie’s manipulation of the woman she’d treated her like a victim, not an accomplice.
“I said let’s go. Out in the living room,” barked Corentine.
Charlotte leaned forward. Before she could take a step, Snookie slapped the side of her leg, fingers digging into her thigh.
She turned.
“I’ll scream,” said Snookie, her stare intense. A second later her eyes rolled into her head, her breath bleeding from her body.
Charlotte lowered a hand to touch the agent’s arm. “Snookie?”
“Leave her, let’s go.” Corentine took a step back toward Declan’s bedroom door at the end of the hall. Behind it, Abby barked, trapped, helpless to perform her guard dog duties.
Charlotte studied Snookie another moment, searching for signs of life.
Did she just die?
Corentine ordered Charlotte into the hall a third time. She moved, rolling Snookie’s last words around in her head.
I’ll scream.
Such a strange thing to say.
“What are you doing?” asked Charlotte as they entered the living room.
Corentine glanced at the front door. “We’re waiting for your boyfriend.”
“Why?”
“Because you know who I am. I can’t have that. I can’t have you two ruining everything.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
Corentine laughed. “I’m afraid I do. Did you kill those people to draw me out? Why are you after me?”
“What?” Charlotte hoped her genuine confusion showed.
“Are you working for the syndicate?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We were trying to save you. Remember? We told you to get away.”
Corentine scoffed. “So someone could follow me and kill me on the road?”
“No. We were trying to save you from Jamie Moriarty.”
Corentine squinted, her turn to look confused. “Jamie?”
“She’s the one who set you up.”
“How? She’s in prison. She hired you to do it?”
Charlotte closed her eyes. She felt as if they were talking in circles.
“No. I told you, we had nothing to do with any of it. We think she escaped—”
A bloodcurdling scream filled the house. Charlotte had never heard anything like it.
Corentine spun around. Snookie stood at the end of the hall, leaning heavily against the wall, her mouth wide open, screaming.
Corentine jumped, her attention and gun whipping toward the sound.
I’ll scream.
Now it made sense.
Seizing the moment, Charlotte tackled Corentine as if she were an NFL lineman. Corentine’s knees buckled and they collapsed to the floor. The gun fired, a chunk of ceiling falling from above Snookie’s head.
Charlotte grappled for the gun. She stood six inches taller than Corentine, but the woman was built like a fire hydrant and felt equally easy to move.
She saw Snookie move to help, only to collapse to her knees, weak from loss of blood.
Charlotte peeled Corentine’s fingers from the gun, but she needed both hands to do it. That freed Corentine to swing a wild punch, clocking her on the side of her cheek.
Pain radiated through Charlotte’s face. She clung to the gun and twisted her body. Jerking up, she felt the weapon pull free and it flew over her head, landing ten feet behind her against the far wall.
Scrambling toward the gun, Charlotte felt Corentine’s arms clamp around her hips, like a shark rising from the depths to claim its prey.
Charlotte pushed herself to her feet and Corentine climbed up with her. Grappling, they rolled across the back of the sofa toward the shattered glass sliding door.
Corentine slammed Charlotte’s back against the glass and she felt it give.
Oh no.
Corentine pressed again, trying to choke her. The glass ripped from the frame as a sheet and Charlotte fell backwards onto the patio, her skull striking the paver tiles.
Lying on a sheet of cracked glass, Charlotte’s head swam. The hurricane winds whipped her flesh with bits of sand and stinging rain.
Her head lolled too far backward, her neck strained, making it hard to breathe.
How is my neck bending back?
Charlotte’s brain cleared and she realized her predicament.
My head is over the pool.
Corentine straddled her, pushing her upper body backward over the edge of Declan’s lap pool.
My neck is going to break.
With all her strength, Charlotte heaved upward. She had to get to her knees and buck Corentine from her.
She rolled to her stomach too fast and slipped forward. Her face plunged into the water, high from the rains.
Charlotte struggled against the weight of Corentine pressing against the back of her skull, holding her under. Lungs screaming for air, she pressed against the tiles, trying to lift Corentine off her. She couldn’t budge the woman. She reached behind her searching for anything to grab or scratch.
The pain in her lungs exploded.
This is the worst part. Soon, I won’t feel anything. I won’t be able to fight.
One last idea flashed through her mind.
The tiles are wet.
