Lethal by Sandra Brown Page A

to him, to visit some of the better places and see what they’re like.” He hesitated, then asked, “Would you be open to doing that if finances weren’t a consideration?”
    “But they are.”
    “If they weren’t,” he said insistently.
    “Are you planning on winning the lottery?”
    Again, he felt the sting of her sarcasm, but he let it pass. He’d said enough for one night. He’d given her food for thought. He’d known that broaching this subject would automatically make him out to be the bad guy, but one of them had to be, and it wasn’t going to be Janice.
    She’d been valedictorian of her high school class, an honor graduate from Vanderbilt, a rising star in an investments firm. Then fate cruelly interrupted not only her promising career path but the sum total of her life.
    She’d had to sacrifice everything for Lanny, which made admitting defeat untenable to her. In her mind, placing Lanny in a facility was full-scale surrender, as good asan admission that—yet again—she had been denied the opportunity to finish something she’d started.
    He sighed. “I’d better get to bed and sleep while I can. I won’t be surprised if I get a call in the middle of the night.”
    “What for?”
    “The agents I left in Tambour know to call me with any developments.” He paused at the door. “You look done in, too. Coming?”
    “Not yet. I’m tired but not sleepy. I think I’ll stay up for a while.”
    “Playing your word game with your cell phone friend in Japan?”
    “Singapore.”
    He smiled. Playing the games were her one form of recreation, and it had become almost an addiction. “I hope you win.”
    “I’m leading by forty-three points, but I’ve got a
j
that’s challenging me.”
    “You’ll come up with a word for it,” he said with confidence. “But don’t stay up too late.”
    Two hours later, Tom was still alone in their bed. He got up and padded barefoot down the hall. After looking in on Lanny, he found Janice in the den, staring raptly into the screen of her cell phone, totally engrossed in a pastime that apparently was much more enjoyable to her than sleeping with him.
    Without her ever knowing that he’d been watching her, he turned away and retraced his steps to their bedroom.

Chapter 12

     
    C oburn gradually withdrew his hands from Honor’s shoulders. He got off her and retrieved the pistol, tucking it back into his waistband. She continued to lie there staring up at him.
    “That was a damn stupid thing to do,” he said. “If you’d accidentally pulled the trigger, one of us could be dead, and if it turned out to be you, I’d be stuck with your kid.”
    It was a harsh thing to say, which is why he’d said it. Her daughter was the button to push when he wanted something from her, and right now he wanted her to stop gaping like a beached perch.
    He knew she heard him, because she blinked. But she remained perfectly still, and for one panicked moment he wondered if she’d been seriously injured during their struggle.
    He wondered why he cared.
    “Are you all right?”
    She nodded.
    Relieved of that worry, he turned away and looked at the mess he’d made of her house. When he’d arrived this morning, everything had been in its place. Lived in, but tidy and neat. Homey. Smelling of fresh cake.
    Now the place was in shambles, and he had nothing to show for his ransacking.
    Dead end.
    Which more or less summarized the life and times of Lee Coburn, who would leave the world with seven brutal murders as his only legacy. Seven victims who hadn’t been given a chance, who’d died before they knew what had hit them.
    Swearing beneath his breath, he rubbed his temples. He was tired. No, more than tired. Weary. Weary of loading and unloading those goddamn trucks. Weary of the sad, one-room apartment that he’d been living in for the past thirteen months. Weary of life in general, and of
his
life in particular. As he’d told Gillette’s widow, if he died, which he probably