“No,” Susannah said. “I won’t lure another person in here. You can kill me first.”

“Oh, I will. After you finish opening all the safes. For now, I’ll pick the GBI guys off one at a time.” Bobby dragged her so that she stood in front of her on the top step, put her gun to Susannah’s temple, then screamed at the top of her lungs, “Help! She’s got a gun. Oh my God, she’s got a gun and she’s going to kill Susannah!”

Through the side windows along the front door Susannah could see Germanio. He looked up, saw her standing on the stairs. Germanio hesitated.

Susannah screamed, “No! Don’t come in. It’s a trap.”

But it was too late. Germanio crashed through the front door and calmly, Bobby fired and Germanio’s head… came apart. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

Horror and shock exploded into rage. “Fuck you,” Susannah screamed. “Damn you to hell.” She threw her handcuffed hands to the right and yanked Bobby’s wounded arm as hard as she could. Bobby howled in furious pain and Susannah kept yanking, throwing Bobby off-center. When Bobby stumbled, Susannah turned, throwing her weight into the bigger woman and sending them both down the staircase.

They grappled on the stairs, Bobby grabbing at Susannah’s hair, dragging her down. Bobby’s hair was too short. There was nothing to hang on to, so Susannah kicked and scrambled back up the stairs. Bobby grabbed her leg, yanking her down.

Where was the gun? Did Bobby still have it? No. If she did, she would have shot me by now. Susannah kicked with her other leg, twisting to look over her shoulder, trying for a glimpse of the gun. She saw it at the same moment Bobby did, on the bottom stair. There’s no way. I can’t get it before she does. She’ll kill me now.

Bobby let go, crawling backward to where the gun lay, and Susannah scrambled up, her breath backing up in her lungs. Get away, get away.

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:50 p.m.

They were almost there. Luke pushed the anger aside, focusing on Susannah and Talia in Bobby’s hands. He’d deal with Bobby, then Charles Grant was a dead man, wherever the hell he was. Charles hadn’t gone home, so he was out there somewhere.

Luke bore down on the accelerator, jumping when his cell buzzed. “Papadopoulos.”

“Luke, it’s Chase. Where are you?”

“About two minutes from the Vartanians’ house. Where is Paul Houston?”

“He was headed toward Dutton, but took a detour.”

Luke recognized the route. “That’s how Corchran told us to come in so we could avoid the traffic, but the opposite way. He’s coming here. Why, to help Bobby?”

“Not Bobby. Charles. Put me on speaker so Pete gets this, too. Al Landers went to the prison to meet with Michael Ellis. Showed him Susannah’s sketch and Ellis broke. Paul Houston is Ellis’s son. Houston and Charles Grant killed Darcy, not Michael Ellis.”

Luke frowned. “His son? Ellis took the fall to save his son? Why?”

“And why would Houston set up his father?” Pete added.

“Payback. Ellis was in Vietnam, in a POW camp, and so was Charles Grant.”

Luke shook his head. “No, I checked. Charles Grant had no military record.”

“Because he was Ray Kraemer, then. Kraemer was an army sniper, captured in ’67, met Ellis, and the two ended up escaping together. Ellis was desperate to get home. His girlfriend had his son, but gave him up for adoption. That was Paul. Ellis and Kraemer were down to the last of their food. Ellis shot Kraemer, stole the food, and left him in the jungle to die.”

“Sonofabitch,” Luke murmured. “Obviously Kraemer didn’t die. What happened?”

“Ellis said Kraemer resurfaced eighteen years later in Dutton, calling himself Charles Grant. He chose Dutton because that’s where the mother of Ellis’s child had moved after giving birth. Paul’s mother is Angie Delacroix. She’s one of Grant’s people now.”

Luke blew out a stunned breath. “My God.” His mind spun, thinking about all the things she’d told them. “But she told us the truth. DNA showed Loomis is Susannah’s father and the tip on Bobby’s birth mother panned out. Why would she try to help us find Bobby? Bobby worked with Charles, too.”

“That I don’t know yet. I had her picked up, but she isn’t talking. Ellis talked a lot, though, when Al Landers told him we knew about Paul being a cop. He said somehow Kraemer located Paul when he was eight. He became his tutor through an after-school volunteer program, but brainwashed Paul against his birth parents and his adopted parents. Paul ran away when he was ten, went to live with Charles. Looks like Charles has been molding Paul all his life. Ellis said Paul will be loyal to Charles to the death.”

“So why did Ellis confess to Darcy’s murder?” Pete asked.

“To protect Angie and Paul. Charles threatened to have Paul kill Angie if he didn’t.”

“That’s Charles’s revenge,” Luke said, “owning Ellis’s son, using him against him, while Ellis sits in Sing-Sing. He pled guilty to killing Darcy, but he’s really paying for what he did to Charles Grant forty years ago.”

“Exactly,” Chase said. “I’m about twenty minutes out, still following Houston. He’s still using his lights to bypass traffic, so he doesn’t know we know about him yet. I diverted most of our agents from the cemetery out your way. Wait for them.”

Luke came around the bend, his focus immediately reverting to Susannah. Let her be alive. Don’t let me be too late. “We’re coming up on the Vartanians’.” Three Arcadia cruisers and an ambulance were slowly approaching from the other direction and Luke sent mental thanks to Sheriff Corchran. “We have backup. We’re going in.”

Chase blew out a breath. “Be careful. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Luke was slowing to instruct the backup when he heard the shot. “That came from the house.” Susannah. He jammed the gas and flew into the driveway, screeching to a stop next to Germanio’s car, his heart in his throat. He started running, Pete right behind him.

Dutton, Monday, February 5, 1:50 p.m.

Get away. Frantically Susannah scrambled up the stairs as Bobby scrabbled for the gun. The carpet was slick and her cuffed hands couldn’t hang on. A hand clamped on to her ankle and the sound of Bobby’s pleased laughter chilled her blood.

“Got it,” Bobby crowed. “You’re dead, Vartanian.”

A shot split the air and Susannah froze, waiting for the pain. But there was none.

She twisted around, and for a second only blinked, stunned at what she saw. Bobby lay on the stairs, her chin propped on one of the stairs so that she stared up at Susannah, blue eyes wide, a surprised look on her face. A blood stain was spreading on the back of her shirt. Frozen, Susannah watched Bobby lift her gun once again. A second shot rang out and Bobby’s body jolted, then slumped, her blue eyes now blank.

Nearly hyperventilating, her gaze locked with Bobby’s dead stare, Susannah crawled up a few more steps before looking up. Luke stood in the doorway, pale, breathing hard, the gun he clutched hanging limply at his side. Behind him Pete knelt next to Hank’s body. Stiffly, mechanically, Luke walked over to the stairs, reached over Bobby, and took the gun from her hand. He checked her pulse, then looked up to meet Susannah’s eyes, his dark and seething with fear and fury. “She’s dead.”

Relief stripped the air from her lungs, rendered her boneless, and Susannah slumped against the stairs, shaking uncontrollably. Then Luke was lifting her up, wrapping his arms around her, his hold desperate, his whisper fierce. “Did she hurt you?”

“I don’t know.” She burrowed into him, needing him, so scared, shaken. “I don’t think so.” The wave of terror ebbed enough so that she could draw a breath. She pulled back to see his face. “Hank is dead. She killed him. I saw him die.”