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Chapter Seventeen

T he door had exploded outward, creating a giant hole in the reinforced door.

Bent metal from the inner frame. Dust everywhere.

Kenna had crouched to the right of the door, getting low out of instinct.

Protecting her vital organs, one knee bent in front of her and the other tucked under so she could launch up at the first sign of someone making a run for it.

She smiled. It would feel good to release some tension with a physical altercation.

All the frustration she’d been feeling lately.

She could channel it into her limbs and take down a bad guy.

Except, given what the doctor had done to her, that would likely result in her doing more damage to the person than she expected—maybe even killing them.

Probably not a good idea.

Jax asked, “Why do you look like you’re having fun?”

Another shot hammered the door, this one going through the hole to hit the neighboring door on the far side. She glanced back at her husband. “Tell me you don’t relish a good old-fashioned shoot-out.”

He shifted his gun to his nondominant hand and drew his phone from his pocket to call 911 and ask for police backup.

But the cops might not be a help here. “Isn’t this guy a cop? They’ll probably show up and defend him.”

“You don’t know”—another shot hit the door but didn’t bust another hole in it—“that.” Jax flinched. “Officer Albertson! This is the FBI. Put down your weapon and come out with your hands up!”

From inside the house, Earnest screamed obscenities at them.

“Lovely.” Kenna frowned, pulling out her phone so she could see what all the vibrating was about.

Another shot exploded through the hole, this time hitting the siding beside the door facing this one.

She thumbed to the notification and hit play on the voice message.

It was Bruce. “…shooting. He’s climbing out the window on the east side.”

She hit the button. “Who’s climbing out?”

He replied a second later. “The cop. He’s got the window open, and he’s pushing the screen out, making a run for it.”

Another shot rang out, cracking like a firework. She flinched every time the noise was so loud. But if the suspect was climbing out the window, then who was firing through the door. “There are two of them?”

“I’ll wait here for backup,” Jax said. “You go help Bruce.”

Bruce probably didn’t need help, but she didn’t plan to argue with her husband. “Got it.” She stood up out of her crouch, then hesitated. She couldn’t get to him to say something or squeeze his hand without crossing in front of the door.

“Go.” The look on his face was enough.

She returned that look, hoping he saw what she wanted to say—what she felt for him—in her expression. “Be careful.” She turned and ran for the back corner of the building.

“You, too,” drifted after her.

She squared up on the corner, then peered around. Bruce was out of sight. A man climbed out of the window, one leg over the sill. Then an arm.

She waited until he was halfway before she moved. Steady pace, gun at a forty-five—which with the bandage didn’t feel great. “Hands on your head.” Kenna employed all that “command presence” the FBI had taught her, not giving this guy any room to disagree or fight back. “Easy.”

He wasn’t Earnest Albertson. This guy had stringy hair, jeans, and a dirty T-shirt. He wore Birkenstocks with no socks. One fell off his leading foot.

“Climb out.” She held her gun ready. “Any weapons on you?”

Bruce came over, covering her just in case. From inside the residence, another shot went off. Bruce said, “Earnest is in there, firing at us?”

“Firing at Jax.”

“I’ve got this.” Bruce let her cover him, moving toward this guy so he could secure his hands behind his back with plastic ties.

“The police will want to talk with him when they get here.”

The guy slumped to the grass, his hands behind him, and groaned. “I’m helping the police! I don’t need to get in trouble again.”

Kenna asked, “If you’re helping the police, then why would you be in trouble?”

She heard a shotgun ratchet through the open window and looked but didn’t see the shooter. This guy had been climbing out of the bedroom window. Jax was still pinned down outside the front door, and the cops weren’t here yet.

She looked at Bruce. “Stay here?”

“Got it. Go help your boy.”

“Don’t leave this guy.” She grabbed the frame and climbed in the window, moving quietly across the carpeted bedroom. Mattress on the floor, the sheet coming off one corner. Blanket dumped in a pile and a pillow that looked like a bowling ball had rested in the middle.

She eased the door open slowly and looked out into the hall.

Earnest had his back to her. Dark hair with a balding circle at the crown that she hadn’t noticed before. He wore a checkered shirt and black jeans a few sizes too big. On his feet were boots that were smudging dirt on the hall carpet.

He lowered the shotgun and reached to a box by his foot for more shells.

“Put the gun down, Earnest!” She shouted loudly enough that Jax was sure to hear her while keeping her body covered by the bedroom door frame. It wouldn’t keep her from getting hurt if he shot at her, but it was better than nothing. “Drop it on the carpet and put your hands up.”

Jax kicked the front door open, all the way at the end of the hall, and looked before he stepped in. He’d wasted no time coming to her aid as backup. “Earnest Albertson! Gun down. Hands up.” His expression remained hard and his tone flat. “Do as the lady says.”

She almost smiled.

Earnest set the gun on the carpet. She strode forward, stowing her gun and pulling out more plastic ties while Jax covered her. “We make a pretty good team.” She pulled one hand down from Earnest’s head, then the other. She could have tightened the plastic down farther but didn’t.

No crescent moon scar.

She turned Earnest by his shoulder, which put his back to the wall. His hands were bound and out of sight. It looked like Earnest Albertson. She turned him again. “No scar.”

“What?” Jax didn’t move, still covering her.

She locked eyes with the man. “Who are you?”

“Isn’t this the guy you saw with Doctor Buzard?” Jax asked.

The man smirked. “Who?”

She could ask if he’d ever seen her before, but was he really going to tell the truth? What she needed was evidence. “There’s a guy on the back lawn. Your buddy didn’t get away. How are you going to explain him being in here with you and making a run for it while you opened fire on the FBI?”

“You ain’t FBI.”

“I’m not.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “But he is.” This guy might be in over his head in a major way. “Which means you’re in big trouble, Officer Albertson .” She took a half step toward him. “Where are those kids you took from the medical center?”

His muscles shifted, but she didn’t expect what happened next.

His head came down faster than she could react, and he slammed his skull against her forehead, causing her own head to whip back. But she didn’t lose her balance.

Kenna worked her jaw side to side. “Ouch.”

The man’s eyes widened, and his knees collapsed.

“He’s going down.” Jax took a step closer, kicking the shotgun out of the way. “Guess you have a hard head.”

Her head throbbed, pounding where he’d slammed his against it. “That hurt a lot.”

“Getting headbutted usually does.”

The man blinked, dazed.

She said, “I need to check something. I don’t think this is Earnest, but I want to be sure.”

“Cops are here.” He looked from the open front door back to the man sitting on his behind in his hallway. Shotgun. Shells. Why would a police officer open fire on someone showing up at his house?

Unless he knew for sure he’d been outed and wanted to resolve the situation with as much trouble as possible. She didn’t understand it. Only this man could explain why he’d done what he had done.

She headed for the living room but found nothing personal, just the usual couch and TV. He didn’t even have a magazine lying around. The remote was tucked away in a console in the couch arm.

The bedroom she’d been in already.

Second room in the hall was more of an office setup. Computer. File cabinet, mostly empty. She found a few old paper bills from years ago in hanging file folders in one of the drawers.

Kenna rifled back far enough to find a birth certificate—along with a second one. Really the only explanation, apart from Dominatus was that Earnest had an identical twin. The organization might have had something to do with that, but it could also be unrelated to her enemy.

Maybe Doctor Buzard had wanted a set of twins, one a cop and the other one of his minions. Or they were both in his employ. Maybe the kind of twins who switched out for each other, assuming one persona between the two of them. It would only work for so long.

The name on this birth certificate was Regis Albertson.

She found one for Earnest Albertson right behind it. Time of birth and the date were near exact matches. She took both papers with her back to Jax. “Twins. I’m guessing they’re identical.”

The man scowled up at her from the floor.

“Which one are you?”

“The one who’s gonna kill you.” He laughed.

Two police officers announced their presence and came in. “Albertson, why are you on the floor?”

Kenna glanced at the cops. “Are you talking about Earnest or Regis? Because your Officer Albertson is a twin.” She looked at the guy on the carpet. “And both of them need to explain what happened to those two kids escorted away from the medical center.”

Near as she could figure, Earnest was the doctor’s minion, but the cop also used the same name. Either one twin was both, or Regis worked as an officer under his brother’s name. An interesting thought.

The cop with graying hair cut high and tight looked at Albertson. “You have any idea what she’s talking about?”

Kenna explained about the medical center and the cops agreeing to take care of the kids. She shrugged. “Now where are they?”

High and Tight said, “You couldn’t just call the precinct and ask.”