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Chapter Nineteen

“W ay to get yourself some goodwill with the local PD.” Stairns glanced over at Kenna as they walked down the drive to Chief Hadley’s house. “Handing over those two wanted criminals to Detective Langford was a good idea.”

Kenna shrugged. Bruce hadn’t been super excited that she didn’t allow him to “have some fun” as he’d said.

As they walked, she surveyed the front yard with its mature trees and tidy landscaping. Spring flowers had been planted on the edges of the walkway and along the front of the house on either side of the door. “Are we entirely sure Bruce is on the level?”

Stairns said, “He’s just not the kind who shares. Some people can’t handle not knowing every detail because they want to control everything around them.”

Kenna tipped her head to the side. “I’ve had team leaders who were like that. You had to report in every time you made a move.” She didn’t mean Stairns, just other people she’d worked with. Guys who had been like Miller—at least before. He seemed different these days.

“Depends on how you feel about being responsible for the outcome of the situation.”

Not too long ago, Kenna would have had a finger on the pulse of everything going on and what every member of her team was doing. She still hadn’t quite finished wrestling with being responsible for the lives of everyone around her or the risk she was taking by caring about what happened to them. “I think I should trust people until they prove that I shouldn’t.”

“If you’re going to give someone the benefit of the doubt, Bruce is a good guy to do that with.”

Good. She surveyed the house in front of them. “I don’t want to judge the size of his house and presume he’s on the take or anything…”

“And anybody who is a first responder shouldn’t have to live in poverty just to satisfy people’s assumptions about where their money came from.”

Kenna said, “Who knows, maybe his wife is super rich. Or he just had a run of good fortune in his investments.”

“Exactly.” Stairns knocked on the front door.

Ramon had stayed back at the campsite with Maizie, who was working on getting more from the brothers’ cell phones, Hadley’s activity online, and the reports they had received from the forensic analyst. What would help most of all was to know how Cliff contacted whoever it was he informed of a couple at the motel. If they could trace back that communication to whoever received it, then they would have a lead to follow to bring down the couple who were kidnapping people.

Whether they were the center of this operation or just a small part of it, Kenna would at least be one step closer to ending this. Finding her sister—cousin—and getting the chance to have a relationship with her.

Stairns knocked again.

Hopefully, Chief Hadley would be able to share some more information about where he was before he was kidnapped or if he knew anything else about the people who took him.

From deep in the house, she heard a long, high-pitched cry made by a man. A scream of pain. Kenna drew her weapon before she had even registered the fact it was likely Chief Hadley, full of fear and torment. Beside her, Stairns pulled his gun out also. Kenna lifted her foot and kicked the door by the handle, ramming her foot against the wood several times before she managed to get the door open.

It swung back to reveal a tile entryway and a small dog with long hair barking loudly at them. With each yap, it lifted its front paws off the floor.

“Sorry, dog.” Kenna raced past the animal into the house. “Living room clear.”

“Dining room clear.”

She heard movement down a hallway and paused at the corner before looking around, gun-first. A woman ducked into a side room, blond hair flying. She had seen a photo of the wife that Maizie had found for her online. It could be Mrs. Chief Hadley, but unless she saw the woman’s face, she couldn’t know for sure.

Kenna raced to the room with the door open, keeping herself back from the door so that she didn’t put her vital organs in the line of fire. Maybe she should start wearing a bulletproof vest, just on regular days. Every day. There was probably a high-end version that was a lot thinner than the bulky vests worn by first responders.

The room was empty.

Kenna stepped back, frowning. Where had that woman gone?

She kept going, opening another door along the hallway. This one led to a study with ceiling-high bookshelves and a ladder. It looked like a very female space, with lots of well-loved novels on the walls. In the center was a sofa, an armchair, and a coffee table. Apparently, the wife liked to read all kinds of popular novels.

She left the door open and went to the next room. Behind her, down the hall, maybe even on the other side of the house, she heard a crash. It sounded like Stairns had started to fight with someone. She was about to turn back to him when she caught sight of who was in the room.

Chief Hadley was tied to a rolling office chair in front of the fireplace in this very masculine office, with the huge TV over the fireplace and a ratty armchair that probably reclined. His wrists had been secured to the arms of the chair. Duct tape had been wound around his chest and the back of the chair so that he wasn’t able to go anywhere. The wounds on his face were extensive, making her swollen cheekbone throb.

She went over and touched two fingers to his neck but felt no pulse. Kenna grabbed her phone and got on the walkie talkie app. She told Bruce to send a text to Langford explaining what’d happened. Then she went to the hall. “Stairns!”

A crash sounded from the other end of the single-level house. Maybe the bedroom? Something shattered like it was made of glass.

“Stairns!”

She took two steps before she was shoved from behind. Kenna stumbled, glancing off a side table in the hall and knocking over a vase. She spun around and saw a blond woman duck into another room. Kenna whipped the door open, going gun-first into the room.

The woman grabbed her arm.

Kenna planted one foot, still moving into the room, and kicked the woman’s legs out from under her. Mrs. Hadley. With the hold the woman had on her arm, Kenna had to go down on top of her, otherwise Mrs. Hadley would’ve pulled on her injured arm too much.

They tumbled to the floor, and Kenna landed elbow first on the woman’s chest. Her bumps and bruises—and the swollen side of her face—smarted. She kicked off the floor and rolled, but Mrs. Hadley put her strength into it, and they went too far.

The woman launched off Kenna and ran through the room. Kenna lifted her shoulders off the floor, pointed her gun at the fleeing woman, and moved her finger to the trigger. She didn’t squeeze.

Mrs. Hadley pulled open a closet door at the back of this small bedroom and ducked into it.

Kenna frowned.

She went to the closet, opened the door, and found…nothing. Just a rail of clothes in front of her and a shelf above. Nothing moving. Was she was hiding? There were no legs under the rail of clothes. No attic access above her. “Secret door.”

Rather than chase a woman through passageways she didn’t know, Kenna retraced her steps to find Stairns in the dining room. His gray hair was rumpled, he looked flushed, and his shirt was askew. The woman in front of him held a kitchen knife, and he had found some kind of cloth—like a fabric place mat—and had it wrapped around both hands to ward her off.

Kenna stepped into the room with her gun raised. “Put the knife down or I shoot.”

The woman breathed heavily through gritted teeth. Behind her was a window, between them a dark wood table. Two chairs were knocked over. Stairns was over to the left, giving Kenna a clean shot.

Problem was, why did she look like Mrs. Hadley? Kenna had been fighting that woman—this woman—in that room down the hall, and she’d run into the closet. And yet, Stairns had been in an altercation with this Mrs. Hadley since before Kenna found the husband dead in that chair.

“Twins.”

Stairns said, “Huh?” not moving one muscle, ready for whatever this woman was going to do next.

“There’s more than one of her in this house.”

Mrs. Hadley—the one Stairns had been fighting—threw the knife at Stairns. In the split second she took to swing her arm back before she launched the blade forward, Kenna squeezed the trigger on her gun.

The bullet slammed into Mrs. Hadley as she turned, embedding in her upper arm. She fell, or dove, toward the window. Kenna’s next two bullets shattered the window. Mrs. Hadley ended up on the outside in a deafening explosion of glass. Kenna glanced at Stairns. “You good?” And ran to the window.

He groaned. “She’s vicious. You should catch her.”

Kenna looked outside to where Mrs. Hadley was up and running across the grass. “How about Bruce? He could use the steps.” She breathed hard, pulled her phone out, and keyed up the walkie-talkie app. “She’s coming to you.”

“Copy that. Circling back.”

Kenna frowned. “Whatever that means.” She went over and helped Stairns up, though he didn’t tug on her arm, so it wasn’t really a case of her helping him. But she made the gesture anyway.

“She nicked my arm.” He held the outside of his elbow.

“We need something to wrap it.”

“I’ll do that. You go after her.”

“The cops will be on their way. Hadley is dead in the other room. Grab a towel and get out. And watch for the twin or you’ll get a repeat of that.” She motioned to the opening, then went over and climbed out of the big bay window, which was covered in glass. It embedded in the rubber soles of her shoes as she crunched over it, onto the grass.

Kenna jogged after Mrs. Hadley, trying to figure out what had just happened. Maizie had enough things to do, so asking her to find out if the chief’s wife had a sibling would only slow her down. Or make things take longer. Maybe Ramon could look it up. Or they could contact somebody in the resistance. Given what happened here, she couldn’t help thinking the chief’s wife was an asset—like Preston’s wife—placed with him to keep an eye out. Or to keep him in line.

In the end, whether there was one or two of them, it would be more important to confirm they did work for the “company” she was fighting against. If she was going to have even a slim chance of finding them and stopping what was happening here, then she had to catch the woman. And this time, she wouldn’t be turning her over to the police.

Kenna jogged across the lawn in the same direction she’d seen the woman run.

Behind the house was a fence, and beyond that, she knew there was a road with a golf course on the opposite side. A wide open space where it wouldn’t be so easy for her to hide.

She checked bushes and trees and shadowy corners back here for someone waiting to pop out and tackle her, but nothing moved. Kenna climbed up on the cable box, tucked behind a bush so the unsightly thing wasn’t visible in the yard. She grabbed the top of the fence and spotted Mrs. Hadley.

Kenna clambered over, landing on both feet and bending her knees. She raced after the woman. Bruce was coming from the other direction down the street. That put their target in between them.

She would have nowhere to go but over the golf course, and eventually, they’d catch up to her.

A car turned the corner of the street about a quarter mile back behind Bruce. Kenna lifted her gun just in case the woman tried to commandeer it.

Bruce kept running, his focus on the woman.

“Car!” Kenna yelled.

The vehicle swerved around him, and Kenna spotted a female driver with dark hair. Bruce lowered a backpack from his shoulders, slowing his stride. The car pulled up on the street beside the woman, and she saw the driver yell to her. As if she was here to rescue the woman.

Kenna stopped, planted her feet, and squared her aim on the windshield. But she couldn’t pull the trigger. Not if she didn’t want to hurt the driver. She would certainly shoot Mrs. Hadley if she did anything to the driver. Then, the driver’s face came into focus—Amara.

Amara hit the gas, driving toward Kenna.

Bruce lifted a weapon, wide in the barrel. No bigger than a compact submachine gun. What on earth was he…

Bruce aimed at the rear tire and fired. The projectile hit the wheel and launched the back end of the car up but didn’t flip it. Amara fought the swerve, but the car was out of control. She bumped the curb at the golf course, went over the sidewalk, down the berm, and toward a sand trap that was probably there to keep balls from going into the street.

The car came to a stop with the front wheels still spinning.

She keyed her phone and contacted Stairns. “We need the car around back.”

He responded, “On my way.”

Bruce jogged over. “You hear sirens? I told Langford. She probably sent a car.”

She could make out the tones in the distance. “Hadley is dead.” She opened the driver’s side door. “Bruce, get the other woman. Don’t let her escape.”

Kenna bent to look at Amara. The airbag had deployed, so she holstered her gun, found a knife in her pocket, and deflated it. “Time to go, Mom.”

Bruce lifted up to look at her over the roof. “That’s Amara?”

“Yep.”

Amara groaned. “Kenna?”

“Sorry to break up the party. Time to go. Can you walk?” She gathered her mom out of the car. “I can’t carry you.”

“I know.” Amara tugged on Kenna’s shoulder and stood, leaning on the car. “Let’s go.”

“Bruce?” She helped her mom walk. With each step, Amara was more able to carry her own weight until she was walking on her own.

“Got her. She’s out cold.”

Stairns pulled up at the curb, and the sirens a street over got louder.

Amara said, “We should put her in the trunk, or she’ll kill all of us.”