“The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our ways. I go to die, and you to live. Which is the better, God only knows.”
—SOCRATES
Cha-chk.
Every muscle in my body stiffened, and my mouth went spitless. Chambering a round was a distinct sound, unmistakable.
My hand gripped the railing as questions swarmed my mind. A gun? In Daniel’s house? He’d been opposed to firearms ever since my father was murdered.
I took a step off the second-story landing. My palm itched to grip my own handgun at the moment, but knowing how Daniel felt, I’d never bring it over. Even when I spent the night.
“Put that gun away.” My godfather’s voice held a tremble as it drifted up to me. Never, ever, had I heard Daniel’s voice be anything but commanding.
My heart pounded harder than before—my ribs felt the punishment. My knees weakened.
“Not hardly. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, Daniel?”
I broke out into a cold sweat, recognizing that voice. And the angry tone. I should have—sure had heard it enough times. Was this real? Not him. I had to be mistaken. Because if he’s the one with the gun . . .
I descended, my feet making no sound on the plush stair runner. Reaching the first floor, I glanced at the alarm system control panel by the front door. No indicator lights ablaze. My throat and gut flipped places. Why have the security feature if Daniel wouldn’t use it? I padded across the cold marble floor of the darkened foyer and activated the silent alarm. The gated community security would arrive.
Would it be soon enough?
“When government witnesses come to me after a trial and confess your team pressured and bullied them to fabricate their testimony, what am I supposed to do? Look the other way?” Indignation rose above the wobbling of Daniel’s voice. “That’s not who I am.”
A boulder slammed sideways in my throat. I froze. This couldn’t be happening.
A lone siren howled in the night. Shivers took over my self-control. I peeked down the hall. Light spilled from Daniel’s office.
I quickened my pace down the hallway, careful not to bump into the entry table with the lamp that had crystals hanging from it.
“Too bad. It could have saved your life.”
“Get out of my house or I’ll call the authorities.” Daniel’s voice, once again strong . . . authoritative.
Hope warmed my chest.
“As if that would do any good? We’re acting on orders here. Orders from higher than our pay grade. We’ve always been acting on orders. You’re the one who is dispensable, Daniel.”
Daniel’s gasp was barely audible. Unlike my pulse pounding in my head.
Thwap. Thwap.
No mistaking that sound either—shots fired with a silencer.
Daniel!
Bile burned the back of my throat as my feet took root in the hardwoods. Instinct pushed me forward, but experience—and knowing the owner of the voice—held me in place. I had to help Daniel, but my muscles wouldn’t budge. If I was seen . . .
The siren filtered up the long driveway. Flashing blue lights spun against the stained-glass window in the front door.
“Let’s get out of here. He must’ve hit a silent alarm.”
I had to move. If I didn’t, I’d be as good as dead. Where? I glanced to the hall . . . the foyer . . . the closet. I had to hide—now! If they killed me, how could I help Daniel?
My body trembled.
“Let me make sure the good judge doesn’t have a pulse. I’ve had someone return from the dead before.”
Bam! Bam! Bam! The front door was about to explode.
“Mr. Tate? Security. Is everything okay?”
I held my breath.
“Leave him. The rent-a-cop will ask questions we don’t want to explain.” Footsteps thumped against the wood floor.
No time to debate. Moving into action, my socked feet slipped on the waxed floor as I slid to the dining room. I ducked next to the antique hutch and flattened myself in the dark shadows.
Thump-thump-thump.
A metallic taste was sharp against my tongue.
More banging on the door. “Mr. Tate? I’ve called the police.”
“Quick, out the back door.”
I recognized both men’s voices. Knew them well. Too well. My stomach churned. How could they . . . ? I felt sick.
The two men rushed past the dining room, neither looking inside. Just enough light lingered in the hallway to illuminate them. Even if I didn’t recognize their voices, there was no disputing who shot Daniel now.
Everything I believed in, fought for . . . fled at the positive identification.
The echo of the back door clicking shut sounded above the pounding of my heart.
The cement block anchoring my feet in place broke free. I scrambled toward the foyer, slipping against the smooth floor. I reached for the knob, couldn’t turn the dead bolt fast enough, and swung open the front door. “My godfather has been shot. Call an ambulance.” I didn’t wait for a response from the security guard, just turned and raced into Daniel’s study.
He lay facedown across his massive mahogany desk.
Oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars. No!
I rolled him over and pulled him to me. He was heavy, like dead weight. I held him tight as I sank to the floor. Two bright circles of red stained the crisp white cotton of his shirt, spreading in diameter. “Oh, Daniel.” I could but breathe the words. Not Daniel. Not him too.
“S-Safe. In. My. Safe.”
“Shh. It’s okay. Help is on the way.” I snatched a jacket from the back of Daniel’s chair and pressed it against the growing red stains.
“Get. O-out. Of. M-my. S-safe.” Daniel’s face paled whiter than his shirt.
I cradled him in my arms, my pulse threatening to explode. Not like this. He was all I had left.
Oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars-oh-my-stars. I couldn’t lose Daniel.
“P-prom-ise. Me. Get. Out. O-of. S-safe.” Daniel’s eyes dimmed. “I-important.”
Tears streaked my cheeks as I rocked him, keeping pressure on the jacket. “Okay, I will. You be still and quiet now. Help will be here soon.” Don’t die. Please, don’t die.
The security guard hovered in the doorway of the office. “Ms. Wyatt, the ambulance is on its way. Do you need help?”
“No. Wait for them outside and direct them in here.” And he’d better make it quick—Daniel was fading fast. Too fast.
He spun and sped out. Sirens wailed in the distance.
I couldn’t handle this. I planted a kiss on my godfather’s forehead. He’d been my rock, my foundation. “It’ll be all right.”
But Daniel’s eyes fluttered. A gurgling stuttered through his lips. He went limp, his head rolling against my chest.
My breathing hiccupped and the tears soaked my face.
Daniel Tate had just died in my arms.
The truth hit me with the full force of a 9mm slug. I had no choice—I had to run.
Or be killed.
The security guard saw me, knew me. If I stayed, it’d only be a matter of time before the men who murdered Daniel would come after me. I couldn’t chance that.
These . . . men . . . they wouldn’t stop. This was what they did. They’d never give up on silencing me if someone higher than these two were calling the shots and ordered this . . . hit—that’s what it was. Not just murder, but a hit.
Oh, Daniel. My body trembled, but I couldn’t stop to think about how I felt. I had to act.
Even protective custody couldn’t save me.
I ran up the stairs, slipped on jeans and a tee, then raced back down.
The sirens drew closer.
Daniel’s safe.
He’d been so adamant I get the contents. His dying words had made me promise. What could be so important?
I shoved aside the framed print, exposing the metal wall safe. Tears blurred my vision as I spun the dial to the right, then left, then back to the right. My date of birth. The safe clicked as the lock disengaged. My hands shook as I opened the door.
Two envelopes and an expandable folder sat inside.
A siren wailed in the driveway.
“They’re here,” the security guard yelled.
No time.
I grabbed the contents and jammed them into Daniel’s briefcase. I shut the safe and secured the framed photograph back into place. My mind couldn’t process anything. Not right then.
Taking the moment I shouldn’t spare, I dropped to my knees and kissed my godfather’s temple for the last time. “I’m so sorry, Daniel. They’ll pay for this.” One day. I’d make sure. My voice hitched on the tears clogging my throat.
I stood and lifted the briefcase. Funny how heavy it suddenly was.
This was it—the point of no return. Fleeing now would save my life, for however long I stay buried, but Daniel’s murderers would go free.
Could I do it? I swallowed against a dry mouth. I could hide, knew how. I’d been a consulting psychologist for the FBI for years. Had contacts and could change my identity with a single call. Knowing what they’d look for, I would do the exact opposite. The unanticipated could keep me alive.
Would keep me alive.
If I told the truth, no one would believe me. Not without proof. And they’d kill me before I could find the evidence I’d need.
Car doors slammed.
“In here. Down the hallway,” the security guard barked.
I crossed to the office’s patio door and turned the lock. With a final glance over my shoulder, I left behind who I was. What I stood for.
Remington Wyatt disappeared without a trace.
Forever.