The officer was obviously torn. Rollins stared at his phone screen for another long moment before looking up. “I wish I could help. I’m sorry.”

Blick nodded. “I know. Procedures.” He put his phone into his inside jacket pocket. “It doesn’t matter. It would only have bought you a few more minutes anyway.” He pulled out his gun. Before the cop could react, Blick jammed the barrel into his chest.

He pulled the trigger twice.

*   *   *

KENDRA LOOKED UP SHARPLY. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah.” Margaret was on her knees, pulling out the splintered chunks of wood that had been the carved landing panel. “I heard … something. Kind of a…” She thought about it. “Pop.”

“It came from out front.” Kendra didn’t want to tell her what she thought that sound might be. She had heard it before. She shined her phone light into the broken panel. “Quick. Is there anything in there?”

“A little to the left.” Margaret was peering into the opening. “I think—yes!” She reached in and pulled a small, tattered, cardboard box secured by rubber bands. “It looks fragile. I’ll hold it while you open it and see what—”

“No time. Let’s get downstairs and go out the back—” She stopped as a flashlight beam suddenly jutted through the large landing window, illuminating Kendra and Margaret.

And the tattered box in their hands.

“Go!” Kendra whispered. “That was a gunshot. Silencer.”

Margaret didn’t ask questions.

They ran down the stairs, but before they reached the bottom, Kendra heard distinct thumps from the front porch.

Upstairs. It was the only way …

Kendra and Margaret half stumbled, half ran up the stairs as more gunshots echoed in the room behind them.

“Bitches!” The shooter yelled as he took cover in a downstairs hallway.

For all his firepower, the man was keeping his distance, Kendra realized. He probably thought they were cops or Feds. And armed.

If only.

“This way,” she whispered to Margaret as she pulled her through a doorway at the top of the stairs.

They went perfectly still while Kendra tried to get a fix on the man’s position.

Close your eyes. Concentrate.

She could hear his slow, measured breathing downstairs. Nothing nervous or intense about him; this man was comfortable firing a gun, accustomed to killing. Not someone to underestimate.

And he had probably killed Officer Rollins tonight. The young man would not be going home to his wife and baby.

Bastard.

He was staying in one place. For now.

Waiting for them to make a move.

Kendra turned to Margaret. She was holding up well. No tears, just intensity and steely resolve in her expression.

Good, Kendra thought. She was going to need it.

Kendra quietly removed the phone from her pocket and turned on the screen.

NO CARRIER.

Shit!

“No phone calls, ladies. That’s against the rules. Why don’t you come down, and we’ll talk,” the voice called from downstairs. He had obviously heard the barely audible beep from her phone.

So he must have incredibly sharp hearing. Maybe as good as hers, Kendra thought.

Good to know.

“Your phones won’t work. And I’ve cut the home phone lines.”

Margaret held up her phone toward Kendra and shook her head. The screen read NO SIGNAL.

He was jamming their phones. Clearly a pro.

“And I guarantee you’ll die if you try to go out a window. You’re too far up.”

Margaret suddenly leaned forward and shouted, “Come up those stairs, and I’ll blow your fat head off.”

Good God, Margaret sounded rough, like a world-weary street cop, Kendra thought, completely different from her usual tone. It would have been amusing if the situation had been different. The girl had moxie.

Still, it seemed to be working.

Silence down below.

But that bluff was only going to get them so far. Kendra pressed herself back against the wall. Concentrate. She replayed each room of the house in her mind. There had to be something she could use, some way out …

Footsteps downstairs. One, then two more. The guy was no idiot. It wasn’t going to take him long to figure out that they didn’t have weapons. And he certainly wouldn’t want to chance hanging around until someone else arrived.

“Throw down the box,” the man called out. “Throw it down, and I’ll be on my way. We’ll never see each other again.”

Kendra looked down at the tattered box in Margaret’s hand. Tempting, but no. There was a chance it was something that could help them find Eve.

“You don’t even know what it is. Give it up.”

“It’s the disk. The list of Pakistani double agents.”

“Wrong.” He chuckled and took two more steps. “Why put your lives on the line? You don’t even know what you have there.”

Kendra couldn’t argue with that.

“Who are you with? CIA? Do you think they’ll care if you end up dead? All they want is that box. Give it up and live another day.”

Kendra pulled off her shoes and motioned for Margaret to stay where she was. She quietly moved down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

“Good,” the man said. “Explore. Trust me, there’s nowhere to go.”

That keen sense of hearing again.

Kendra entered the bedroom and approached the gas fireplace. She turned the key hard clockwise as far as it would go. Gas hissed from the fireplace. She grabbed a long fire starter from the mantel and moved quickly back down the hallway.

She heard another three steps downstairs.

Kendra tabulated the steps she had heard. One, three, five … Eight steps, which would put him about halfway to the staircase.

Need to stall, give the gas time to do its job …

“What’s in the box?” she called.

“Why should I tell you? You’ll be happier not knowing.”

“I doubt that.”

“Believe me. Toss it down, and you’ll survive the night.”

“You seem a little edgy. Calm down. We don’t want to hurt you.” She paused. “And we don’t want to be hurt.”

“That’s better. You’re being reasonable. Throw down the box.”

“Give me a minute.”

Kendra turned back toward Margaret and saw that she was pulling the rubber bands from the box and lifting the lid. Margaret peered inside, then turned it upside down over Kendra’s outstretched hand. A worn, weather-beaten, moleskin notebook tumbled out.

Kendra quickly examined it. Not the data disk that she had been led to believe might be there. As she thumbed through the book, she saw that there were no lists of names, just pages and pages of erratic scribbling, like a journal.

Not like a journal, she realized; it was a journal. But whose?

“I’m waiting,” he said.

Kendra slipped the notebook into her waistband and pulled her shirt over it. She quickly snapped the rubber bands over the cardboard box. “It’s all yours.”

“Smart woman. Throw it down.”

Kendra glanced at the master bedroom at the end of the hall. If her timing was just a bit off, this lunatic would kill her and Margaret.

Make it count …

She stepped toward the staircase and hurled the box downward. It bounced off the landing wall and tumbled down the remaining stairs to the main floor.

“Good girl.”

She heard him tearing into the box. Only another few seconds …

She reached toward a bookshelf and picked up three tiny ornamental wooden figurines.

Wait for it …

“Shit!” He started cursing viciously.

That was her cue. Hope you’re still listening, asshole … She tossed one of the figurines through the open bedroom door, then tossed the other.

She crouched beside the bookshelf and pulled Margaret down beside her.

Would he fall for it?

Sure enough, he was charging up the stairs. He jumped the last few steps and sped past them down the hallway to the master bedroom.

Success!

Kendra pulled the trigger on the fire starter and adjusted the flame to its highest setting. She jammed the remaining figurine into the trigger guard to keep the flame ignited.