Sudden Death

buried in burning coals. It was all she could do to open her eyes.

“Much better!” Karin said. “I don’t like it when you get tired. It’s no fun. And if it’s not fun for me, I’ll just kill you.”

Megan worked her mouth, but no sound came out. She was so tired. She tried to look at the clock, but the red numbers were a blur. She squinted and still couldn’t see them. She thought it was still dark outside, but she didn’t know if an hour had passed or a full day.

“You know, I thought you had potential. I thought you understood. But you’re a people pleaser. Teacher’s pet. Hans liked you better because you fawned over him, you told him how smart he was, it was sick. I thought you had a thing for him, then I realized that you had replaced your father. No one could replace my father. Certainly not Hans. I was really sad when he had to die.”

Megan couldn’t have heard that right. Hans? Dead? No. “Wh-at?” she squeezed out of her raw throat.

“He read my diary. Asshole.”

She wasn’t talking about Hans. She was talking about her father.

“He wanted to send me to a shrink. I couldn’t- not then. I didn’t have the shields up. My mother always told me never to write anything down. I had them hidden, but he found them. I hated it when she was right.”

Karin had killed her father. It made sense, a very sick, logical sense. Yet-she’d been only twelve when he died. “H-how?” Megan asked.

“It was raining. I had the poor road conditions going for me. It was really stupid, but I was young. See this scar here?” She pulled down the collar of her T-shirt and pointed to a faded white scar-thin, about three inches long. “Piece of metal hit me in the neck. But I was young, I wasn’t thinking, I thought because I had my seat belt on and he didn’t … Well, it still worked and I was only in the hospital for a couple days. I think that was the first time my mom was actually proud of me. Maybe the only time.” Her voice trailed off.

Megan’s stomach rolled. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing about Karin’s sick family. Her mother knew that Karin was violent? That she’d killed her father? Condoned it?

“I’ve hated you for a long time, but never more than when you had me fired.”

“You tried to kill me!”

“See, that’s the thing. They didn’t even believe you! But they still fired me. I had to play this emotionally strung out depressed nervous wreck just to prove I didn’t shoot poor Meggie Elliott on purpose. I hate you for that. I hate you for being such a goody two-shoes, a premium saint. You know, there’s nothing wrong with executions, with or without a righteous judge. And I had hope for you, but you started investigating me. Looking into my life. My family. No. Not allowed! You crossed the line, and I had to take care of it.

“But,” she continued, “I do owe you one. A small one. I finally had the courage to take care of my mother. That fucking bitch was a thorn in my side for years, but when she-” Karin spun around and Megan couldn’t see her face. “She went too far,” Karin said, her voice low. “Just like Ethan.”

“The police.” Megan swallowed. “They thought it was suicide.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t too hard. A few pills to make her sleepy, a running car in a closed garage, a note on the computer … the only thing I regret is I couldn’t do this to her.”

Karin stuck in a needle and, although it hurt, it didn’t hit a nerve.

Karin frowned at the needle and threw it across the room. Took a deep breath, calmed herself, squeezed her hands open and shut. Megan watched the process, wanted to keep Karin talking because that seemed to distract her so she couldn’t concentrate. The reprieve gave Megan time to regather her strength and time for someone to find her.

“I don’t understand.” Megan tried to relax. She was so cold she couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. “Why did you have to kill your mother because of me?”

“It’s called planning. First, I wanted her dead. I had been trying to figure out a way to do it for years, but I didn’t want to be caught. Nothing worked, or there was too great a risk to me. Then you started investigating me, and all of a sudden, the plan unfolded.

“See, you always need an out, a Plan B. A Plan C doesn’t hurt, either. My Plan A was to put you in the line of fire and have a bad guy take you down. With my help but his gun. But if that didn’t work I might go to prison. Sure, I thought you’d be dead, and prison is not ideal, but I was willing to risk it. Then I thought-wait, Plan B. If my mom commits suicide and I don’t talk about it, start acting a bit different, but not strange enough to get myself committed, then if something went wrong and it was my gun that killed you, I could claim emotional distress. I might lose my job, but most likely I wouldn’t. Maybe administrative leave and counseling, then I’d be back. But you testified against me. You had me fired.”

There was a sick and twisted logic in her reasoning. Megan felt ill from more than the pain and cold.

Karin picked up another needle and held it in front of Megan’s face. She tried not to show fear, but it was impossible. She’d never been this scared in her life.

The needle twirled in Karin’s fingers. Megan couldn’t stop staring at it, shaking, half-frozen, pained and panicked. The anticipation of pain was almost as emotionally devastating as the pain itself.

Karin pressed the needle gently against Megan’s chest without puncturing the skin. Using it like a pen, she moved it down Megan’s body.

Megan had thought Karin hadn’t cut into her, but a long, thin red line oozed out of a hairline incision.

Down her stomach, her right calf. Megan shook uncontrollably. Karin brought the needle slowly down to the backside of her knee and then poked.

Megan screamed in a voice so hoarse she thought she might lose it forever.

But she wouldn’t need her voice if she was dead.

Karin inserted a needle behind her other knee. Megan saw bright stars, then nothing at all.

J.T. and Jack met with the local SWAT commander, Lee Beck, around the bend from the cabin where Beck’s team had confirmed that Megan Elliott was alive, but restrained.

“What condition is the hostage in?” Jack asked, his stomach twisted in knots.

“Alive, but not in good shape. We have a sniper in position, but there haven’t been any clear shots. The target has at least one gun on a table about ten feet from where the hostage is restrained. She may have more, we don’t have confirmation.”

“We’ll integrate into your team,” Jack said, “but we have a plan. We can’t leave Agent Elliott in there much longer.”

“Agreed,” Beck said. “She is unconscious right now.”

Jack’s head jerked up. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because she’s alive. And when she passes out, the suspect leaves her alone.”

“Where’s the suspect now?” J.T. asked.

It was all Jack could do not to make a fool move on the cabin right then and there. He itched to see for himself that Megan was alive and breathing. But rash action would get her killed.

Beck asked for a status report, listened to his earpiece, and told them, “The target is standing two feet to the right of the hostage, back to my man, bent over a table. He can’t see what she is doing.”

“Does he have a clear shot?” Jack asked.

“Negative,” Beck responded. “The angle is bad. She needs to be directly at the window or at the front door to take the shot.”

Jack didn’t like the plan. They needed more time to infiltrate the cabin. Jack did not want to risk Padre’s life, but he couldn’t see another alternative. They needed to buy time to extract Megan, and because Megan was in no condition to assist, it would take more time to bring her to safety.

Dillon and Hans approached them. Hans said, “Two entrances, front and back. Beck’s men have the cabin completely surrounded. But I think your plan will work.”

“Did you see Megan?” Jack asked.

“No,” Hans said. “We didn’t want to get too close and tip our hand.”

J.T said, “Daybreak is in thirty minutes. We’ll lose the cover of darkness. Ready, Kincaid?”

“Hell, yes. Let’s get Megan out now.”