of letting go. He’d ride this motherfucker all night long if he had to.
“Run! Run!” Anna screamed at her sister.
Simone grabbed Bobby and fled out the front. An enraged Carlisle reared up.
Charlie kicked him hard in the sides. Carlisle reared again, and this time Charlie lost his hold and flew through the air. Landed on his back. Before he could scramble to his feet, Carlisle grabbed his pistol again, aimed it straight at him. The barrel of that gun was the deepest darkest hole Charlie ever looked down.
His breath stormed out of his body. The beats of his heart sounded like they were coming out of stereo speakers. Then time gave him one last gift: It slowed down long enough for him to glance around and find his Anna.
Sweet Jesus .
Anna had a gun—in a two-handed grip, pointed at Carlisle from across the room.
“Drop it!” She took a step forward.
Carlisle didn’t turn. Instead he kept his gun trained on Charlie as he growled at Anna, “You’re not going to shoot me, you scared little Freak . So why don’t you drop it, and we can work something out?”
“Drop it! Or I’ll blow your motherfucking head off!” Anna yelled.
Carlisle wheeled on Anna. His pistol arrowed her way.
Charlie catapulted to his feet, just as Anna’s arms jerked.
He heard a deafening boom.
Carlisle staggered forward a few steps, and then hit the floor, a gun in his hand and a gaping hole in his forehead—just like Megan O’Neal.
Chapter Ten
Three weeks later
Tangleheart, Saturday 7:30 P.M.
B EFORE C HARLIE HAD a chance to knock, Simone threw open the front door and motioned him inside the entryway to her home.
“I won’t be out late, I promise. If you need anything at all, just call. I can be home in a flash.” Simone grabbed her purse, rummaged for her keys.
“No worries. We can manage just fine…and tell Nate I hope he enjoys those cinnamon rolls.” He gave her a sly wink.
A sheepish look came over her face. “Anna wasn’t supposed to tell.”
Charlie couldn’t help smiling at this little subterfuge arranged by the two sisters. After Nate’s last surgery he’d finally been given the green light to eat solid foods, so Anna had volunteered to babysit while Simone smuggled homemade cinnamon rolls into Nate’s hospital room.
Charlie had volunteered to babysit the babysitter.
He had nefarious plans of his own.
Simone tiptoed up and gave Charlie a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for helping Anna with Bobby.”
“It’s my pleasure, believe me.”
“I’m sure it is.” Simone tossed her hair back and smiled knowingly, then her brow drew down, and her expression altered. “How did your conversation with the prosecutor go today?”
“Pretty well, I suppose.” Sheriff Hawkins had survived a bullet to the chest courtesy of a Kevlar vest. Charlie had taken the prosecutor, an old friend, to lunch in exchange for an update on the case. “With our testimony, and Nate’s of course, the state has all they need to nail Hawkins for attempted murder.” He hesitated.
“But?”
“But the prosecutor didn’t think the case against Hawkins for the murder of Catherine Timmons was a sure thing—mostly circumstantial. So they offered Hawkins a deal: in exchange for a full confession, they took the death penalty off the table.”
“And Hawkins confessed to Catherine’s murder?”
Charlie nodded. “Apparently, she had been digging around in Hawkins’ finances and asking questions about the gunshot residue on Megan’s hands. Hawkins panicked. If it came out that he’d tampered with evidence, that he’d covered up Megan’s murder in exchange for a bribe, he stood to lose everything.”
“Tampered with evidence, how?”
“It’s complicated.”
The look on Simone’s face had him hanging his head. Her world had been turned upside down. Her own life had been threatened, and her husband still lay in a hospital bed recovering from near fatal injuries. She wanted details, and he owed them to her.
“Run! Run!” Anna screamed at her sister.
Simone grabbed Bobby and fled out the front. An enraged Carlisle reared up.
Charlie kicked him hard in the sides. Carlisle reared again, and this time Charlie lost his hold and flew through the air. Landed on his back. Before he could scramble to his feet, Carlisle grabbed his pistol again, aimed it straight at him. The barrel of that gun was the deepest darkest hole Charlie ever looked down.
His breath stormed out of his body. The beats of his heart sounded like they were coming out of stereo speakers. Then time gave him one last gift: It slowed down long enough for him to glance around and find his Anna.
Sweet Jesus .
Anna had a gun—in a two-handed grip, pointed at Carlisle from across the room.
“Drop it!” She took a step forward.
Carlisle didn’t turn. Instead he kept his gun trained on Charlie as he growled at Anna, “You’re not going to shoot me, you scared little Freak . So why don’t you drop it, and we can work something out?”
“Drop it! Or I’ll blow your motherfucking head off!” Anna yelled.
Carlisle wheeled on Anna. His pistol arrowed her way.
Charlie catapulted to his feet, just as Anna’s arms jerked.
He heard a deafening boom.
Carlisle staggered forward a few steps, and then hit the floor, a gun in his hand and a gaping hole in his forehead—just like Megan O’Neal.
Chapter Ten
Three weeks later
Tangleheart, Saturday 7:30 P.M.
B EFORE C HARLIE HAD a chance to knock, Simone threw open the front door and motioned him inside the entryway to her home.
“I won’t be out late, I promise. If you need anything at all, just call. I can be home in a flash.” Simone grabbed her purse, rummaged for her keys.
“No worries. We can manage just fine…and tell Nate I hope he enjoys those cinnamon rolls.” He gave her a sly wink.
A sheepish look came over her face. “Anna wasn’t supposed to tell.”
Charlie couldn’t help smiling at this little subterfuge arranged by the two sisters. After Nate’s last surgery he’d finally been given the green light to eat solid foods, so Anna had volunteered to babysit while Simone smuggled homemade cinnamon rolls into Nate’s hospital room.
Charlie had volunteered to babysit the babysitter.
He had nefarious plans of his own.
Simone tiptoed up and gave Charlie a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks for helping Anna with Bobby.”
“It’s my pleasure, believe me.”
“I’m sure it is.” Simone tossed her hair back and smiled knowingly, then her brow drew down, and her expression altered. “How did your conversation with the prosecutor go today?”
“Pretty well, I suppose.” Sheriff Hawkins had survived a bullet to the chest courtesy of a Kevlar vest. Charlie had taken the prosecutor, an old friend, to lunch in exchange for an update on the case. “With our testimony, and Nate’s of course, the state has all they need to nail Hawkins for attempted murder.” He hesitated.
“But?”
“But the prosecutor didn’t think the case against Hawkins for the murder of Catherine Timmons was a sure thing—mostly circumstantial. So they offered Hawkins a deal: in exchange for a full confession, they took the death penalty off the table.”
“And Hawkins confessed to Catherine’s murder?”
Charlie nodded. “Apparently, she had been digging around in Hawkins’ finances and asking questions about the gunshot residue on Megan’s hands. Hawkins panicked. If it came out that he’d tampered with evidence, that he’d covered up Megan’s murder in exchange for a bribe, he stood to lose everything.”
“Tampered with evidence, how?”
“It’s complicated.”
The look on Simone’s face had him hanging his head. Her world had been turned upside down. Her own life had been threatened, and her husband still lay in a hospital bed recovering from near fatal injuries. She wanted details, and he owed them to her.
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