Page 23 of 4th Silence (Schock Sisters Mystery #4)
Meg
P ain explodes at my temple, and I hit the floor hard. My head’s spinning like one of those tilt-a-whirl rides I used to love at the county fair and my vision is fuzzy. A handbag didn’t do that—it was whatever was inside it.
Flat on my back, I blink up at the ceiling. It has a weird fuzziness to it, so I blink a few more times, trying to clear the fog.
“Meg!”
Charlie’s voice cuts through the haze with her classic get-‘er-done sharpness I’ve heard my entire life. Even as a child, my sister was bossy.
“Don’t yell,” I croak, pushing myself to a sitting position while a blast of pain ricochets through my skull.
Charlie looms over me, blood staining her mouth and clothing.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine. Bit my lip. The rest are cuts from the glass. Alex is getting away. Can you get up?”
He’s getting away. With the purse?
Foggy brain or not, I launch to my feet. Stomach tumbling and head pounding, I bolt for the main house’s door.
“Locked.”
I turn back, sidestepping Charlie. “This way. We can go through the tunnel.”
“We’ll never catch him.”
“We have to try.”
I yank open the tunnel door and take off, every step like a pickaxe to my battered head. My stomach lurches again. If I’d eaten anything, I’d be vomiting.
“This tunnel,” I call over my shoulder, not bothering to check if Charlie is with me. I know she is, “leads to the cottage. From there, we can cut across the lawn and hopefully catch him before he escapes.”
At the end of the passageway, we bolt up the stairs. Charlie is right on my heels now, her longer legs able to cover more ground even within the confines of her tight skirt. At the top, I step aside and point to the front door. “Go. You’re faster.”
She kicks off her shoes, hitches up her skirt, and blasts through the door without a concern over running through snow barefoot.
That’s Charlie—zero concern for comfort and all in on justice.
By the time I reach the porch, she’s already ten yards ahead, tearing toward Alex’s car in the circular drive. Her left ankle wobbles a few times, but it barely slows her down.
I zero in on the house, where the front door opens.
Alex. Purse in hand.
“There he is!” I yell. “Take the back of his car. I’ve got the front!”
We branch off. Alex tracks us but keeps moving and jumps into the driver’s seat.
Charlie veers to cut him off at the lower driveway. I barrel forward, ready to throw myself on the hood of his car if necessary.
I want that purse.
Alex hits the gas and speeds down the long path. The gate is already opening and — dammit, dammit, dammit—he’s getting away.
I push myself, picking up speed.
To my right, Charlie shifts slightly, moving toward the tiny gatehouse.
If she’s hoping to get the gate closed before Alex screams through, she’ll need a miracle.
A black SUV slides into view, blocking the exit.
Alex brakes hard. Tires screech. The high-pitched squeal nearly gives me a brain bleed, but I keep moving, trying to level off my breathing that’s coming in short bursts.
The SUV’s door flies open and…what the hell?
JJ.
Of all the people who shouldn’t be here right now, it’s probably him.
“Don’t let him leave!” Charlie shouts, still barefoot and fierce.
The sight of JJ spikes my adrenaline as I close the last twenty yards.
“What the hell is going on?” JJ thunders as Charlie comes to a stop beside him.
Alex pops out of his car, taking cover behind the door. “Step aside, JJ. I’m leaving.”
“Not until I get some answers.”
“He has the purse!” I shout. “Don’t let him leave!”
I reach the passenger door and grab the handle. Locked.
The Sherman is right there on the seat.
I jab at the glass. “There’s something inside that purse. He just clocked me with it.”
I glare across the hood at Alex. “And it hurt, you son of a bitch.”
“JJ,” Alex says, his voice courtroom calm. “They’ve lost their minds. They came here uninvited, and Meg did an illegal search of the property.”
JJ eyes me.
“He’s not wrong,” I say. “Well, except the part about us losing our minds. He’s definitely wrong about that. And he hit me! I found the Sherman hidden in a table. I didn’t touch it, but I know there’s something inside it. He hit me with it and my head is freaking killing me!”
The knock of a motor—I’d recognize that sound anywhere—draws my gaze to the gate where my van pulls in behind JJ’s SUV.
Oh no.
The driver’s door opens. Mom hops out like she’s storming Normandy. She plants her feet, lifts her arms, and points a gun.
My mother.
With a gun.
JJ showing up is one thing, but Mom? I can’t wait to hear how this all came to be.
“Mom!” Charlie barks with that same sharpness she used on me. “What are you doing?”
“I took one of your guns from your safe.”
“I see that,” Charlie mutters. “Someone remind me to change the code.”
“Helen,” JJ says, his voice dropping to an I-will-destroy-you level, “put that gun down before you hurt yourself. Or I swear to God, I’ll have you locked up on a list of gun charges the length of my arm.”
Poor JJ. No escaping the Schock madness.
All eyes but mine swing to her. I’m fixed on Alex. I dart behind the car. JJ has the front blocked, and unless Alex runs me over, he can’t go backward.
He’s trapped.
And now?
We get answers.