“Sheriff’s department. Freeze!”
The ghost whirled on Thomas. Beneath the bed sheet, Gardner snarled. The butcher’s knife ripped toward the sheriff’s face. Thomas leaned back, the air whooshing past his eyes as the blade scraped his face.
As Gardner’s hand arced lower, Thomas drove the butt end of the gun against the boy’s head. Gardner wobbled and crashed against the wall. Two framed photos tumbled and smashed against the floor.
“Put down the knife, Gardner. It’s over.”
As Thomas trained the gun on the boy, Gardner leaped off the wall with an inhuman screech. The collision sent Thomas and Gardner into the hallway. Behind them, Valerie crawled to her knees and gagged, clutching her throat. Gardner lunged with the knife, the blade pointed at the sheriff’s stomach. Thomas spun and drove his palm against the boy’s arm. Thomas didn’t want to pull the trigger, but the boy wouldn’t quit. The killer leaped at Thomas as Valerie stood in the doorway, crying for Gardner to stop.
Thomas dodged the bull rush and threw the boy aside. Before the sheriff could catch the teenager, he lost his footing and pinwheeled off the top step. The knife flew from Gardner’s hand as he tumbled forward and struck his head against the stairs. The boy’s body went slack and somersaulted down the staircase.
Presley threw herself atop the teenager. She held him in place, the sheet discarded on the stairs. With the detective’s help, Thomas steadied the boy. The whites of Gardner’s eyes stared up at them. The boy’s neck lolled sideways.
“He’s breathing,” Thomas said, bending over the boy’s face.
“The ambulance is on the way,” Presley said.
A bellow spun Thomas around. Ed Leonard thundered at the fallen killer with a baseball bat over his head. Presley had just enough time to grab the man’s arms as Thomas tackled Leonard to the floor. The bat swung forward with malevolence and splintered the stairs, missing Gardner’s head by a fraction of an inch.
“Drop the bat, Mr. Leonard. Get yourself under control.”
The father thrashed beneath the sheriff. Thomas wrestled the bat from Leonard’s grip and twisted the bully’s hands behind his back. After Thomas locked the handcuffs, Presley stared wide-eyed at Thomas and brushed the hair from her face.
“That was close.”
Atop the staircase, Valerie held the banister like a lifeline as she stared at her father. The girl wavered, close to fainting. Presley sprinted up the stairs to catch her.
Thomas pressed Ed Leonard’s face against the floor.
“Stop fighting. You don’t want to give me an excuse.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
November 1st
4:55 a.m.
Raven turned up the heat to prevent frost from spreading across the windshield. Darren sat in the passenger seat with binoculars pressed against his eyes. While they studied the bus terminal from across the street, LeVar hid in Darren’s midnight blue Dodge Silverado at the end of the block, and Lambert’s cruiser slumbered in a parking garage with a clear view through the bus terminal’s windows. Raven couldn’t see the deputy, only the cruiser’s bumper poking out from between two vans.
Inside the terminal, Deputy Aguilar disguised herself in everyday clothing—a Syracuse Orange sweatshirt, blue jeans, sneakers, and a Mets baseball cap pulled low on her brow. Aguilar paged through Time, her eyes darting to the door every several seconds as the clock ticked toward five in the morning. Four travelers sat in opposite corners of the waiting area, their eyes weary.
From the backseat of the Rogue, Serena leaned forward and squeezed between the front seats.
“Are you sure he’s coming?”
Raven met her mother’s eyes in the mirror.
“The clerk confirmed Benson bought a ticket, and LeVar found the itinerary inside the farmhouse. He’s coming. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not sleeping, child. And don’t sass your mother.”
Raven gave her mother a frustrated glare and rubbed her arms. Even with the heat on, the Rogue struggled to retain heat. Frost glistened on the sidewalk. With Halloween over, the calendar had switched to November, and winter weather was fair game now. The latest forecast predicted lake effect snow showers by tomorrow.
Raven gazed up and down the sidewalk. Maybe her mother was right. The near capture at the farmhouse might have spooked Benson into skipping the trip. Except the escaped convict was running out of money, and it was only a matter of time before the local authorities caught up to him. Raven’s radio buzzed with static before Lambert’s voice came through.
“See anything from your position?”
“Negative,” Raven replied.
“Look alive. It’s almost five o’clock.”
Outside the terminal, a mechanic checked the bus as it rumbled in the bay. A balding passenger watched the process through the plate-glass window.
Raven sighed.
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“He’ll show,” Darren said. “The bus doesn’t board for another half-hour.”
As Raven adjusted the seat, the restroom door opened inside the terminal. Her stomach lurched. She swatted Darren’s arm and pointed.
“Benson is already inside the terminal.”
“What? How?”
Raven radioed Lambert. Then Aguilar shifted in her seat after the message arrived through her ear piece.
“Mom, don’t you dare move from this vehicle.”
Without waiting for the deputies to respond, Raven shot out of the Rogue and sprinted across the street. Darren called for her to pull back as she’d hunkered beside a parked car along the curb. Cocking her head around the bumper, Raven searched the faces inside the terminal. Benson strode toward the bus with his hands stuffed inside his pockets, his head down, a hoodie concealing his face. The bulge beneath his sweatshirt screamed gun. He hadn’t noticed Aguilar yet. Raven motioned for Darren to circle left and cut Benson off if he ran through the front door.
When Benson passed the deputy, Aguilar threw the magazine aside and raised her weapon.
“Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department. Drop your weapon, Benson!”
Benson snatched the passenger at the window and placed the
