“At last, long last when you and I meet, true justice, my justice will be complete. And when you breathe your last gasping breath, I will smile upon you in death. For when your blood drips from my hands, I’ll sing and shout to beat the band.”

He let out a hoot of laughter as he set the paper aside. “Beat the band! I added a couple more lines to this one because I wanted to end with a little levity. It’s a happy day for me, a goddamn red-letter day! And I wanted some irony, because I’m going to beat you to fucking death.”

He got to his feet; Adrian drew in a breath as she prepared to rush him.

And with an explosion of barks, snarls, Sadie charged the glass doors.

Distraction, she thought. Terrified as much for the dog as herself, Adrian kicked his gun hand. She managed one punch, connecting with his shoulder instead of his face, as the gun clattered across the room.

Then she ran. “Run,” she shouted at Sadie. “Run, Sadie. Go run!”

She hoped to make it to the stairs, but she could already hear him coming. Instead, she ducked into one of the bedrooms.

Places to hide, she reminded herself. Ways to fight back.

“Going to hurt you worse now. It’s just going to be worse now.” She grabbed an antique letter opener from the desk in the guest room, slipped into the Jack and Jill bath and silently into the next.

They’d see about that.

Since he woke early, Raylan decided he’d try to get some work in before his kids got up and scattered his day like dandelion fluff.

Mariah wanted the training wheels off her bike, which scared the crap out of him. But her brother rode a two-wheeler, and now she was determined to do the same.

So he’d promised he’d teach her.

Since he’d work, he pulled on jeans and a shirt before heading to the kitchen where he considered: coffee or Coke.

Coke usually won, and today was no exception.

He let Jasper out, stood enjoying that first hit of caffeine, enjoying the quiet of the house. Following well-established routine, he got Jasper’s breakfast, toasted a bagel, let Jasper back in so they could both eat in peace.

He’d managed one bite of bagel when Jasper’s head shot up out of his bowl. And he howled.

“Quiet, Jesus, you’ll wake the kids. I need an hour!” He rushed to the door. “They must’ve gone for an early run. Okay, okay.”

Jasper howled, and outside Sadie barked like a maniac. He opened the door to let Jasper bullet out. “We both get a morning girlfriend fix. But shut the hell up, both of you.”

He went around to the gate, where Sadie, who rarely let out more than a woof, stood on her hind legs, rattling off barks.

“Hey, hey, take it down, girl.” He reached for the gate with one hand, laid the other on Sadie’s head to stroke.

“You’re shaking. Where’s Adrian?”

Now with both dogs howling, he saw Sadie didn’t have her leash. Adrian never took her for runs without her leash.

“Christ, oh Christ.” Struck with terror, he ran into the house for his phone, his keys. And running still, hit the memory key for Monroe and Teesha.

“Yo!” Teesha said cheerfully. “Yes, I hear the dogs, Phineas.”

“He’s got her. I think he’s got Adrian. Call the cops, watch my kids. I’m going.”

“What? What? Monroe, Raylan says that bastard has Adrian. He’s going. I’m calling, Raylan. I’ve got the kids. Go. Crap, Monroe’s coming. I’m calling nine-one-one.”

Both dogs jumped in the car before Raylan could. Monroe burst out of his front door wearing a T-shirt, gym shorts. His feet were bare, and he held a baseball bat.

“What the fuck?” Monroe said as he all but dived into the car.

“Sadie—she’s shaking, no Adrian, no leash. That’s all I’ve got.” He reversed out of the driveway, turned on a dime. “And a sick feeling.”

“Sadie wouldn’t run off for nothing.” Monroe looked back to where Sadie panted and growled and shook as he called Adrian. “She’s not answering, and now I’ve got the same sick feeling. Floor it.”

In her hospital bed, Rachael made a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Her eyes fluttered. At her bedside, her husband squeezed her hand.

“Come on, baby, come on back.”

Her eyes opened, looked through him for a long moment, then focused. “Ethan?”

“Yeah, there you are.” He pressed her hands to his lips, struggled not to weep. “There she is. You’re okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

“Can’t keep a Mooney down.” Her uncle stepped to the other side of the bed, bent to brush his lips over her forehead. “I’ll get the nurse.”

“Wait. Wait.” She fumbled for his hand. “Shot. Shot me. Jonathan Bennett. Looks like his father. I saw him before he fired. I saw him.”

“We’re already looking for him. Don’t worry.”

“Wait. Richmond cops called. Gonna get ice cream, but Richmond called. Can’t remember the names. Killed Tracie Potter down there. Came here for me.”

“Richmond’s here, in a hotel a couple blocks away. I’m going to let them know you’re awake.”

“He said something. Something.” She had to dig down. Things were waking up, and awakened hurt like a bitch. “He said something, going to finish me, don’t know why he didn’t. Thought he did? He said … Two down. Two bitches down.” Her eyes shot open again. “Potter, me. He’s going after Adrian Rizzo. Traveler’s Creek. You’ve got to notify—”

“I’m on it,” her uncle replied, and stepped out of the room.

Once the door closed, Rachael turned her head toward Ethan.

“The kids?”

“They were here, everybody was here. They’re okay, and they’re going to be a lot better when I tell them you’re awake.”

“I could sure use some good drugs right about now.” She managed a smile. “Never got that ice cream. Sorry, babe.”

Pressing her hand to his face, he let the tears come.

He couldn’t shut up. Adrian knew where he was, the direction he took because he couldn’t shut up. He cursed her, taunted her, while she, in bare feet, her breathing carefully controlled, moved silently. She knew he’d gone back for the gun because she’d doubled back to do the same, but he’d beaten her there.

She hadn’t found a way to get to the stairs and down without exposing herself. But she calculated how long to get to the doors leading to the porch. Unlock the doors, pull them open—which wouldn’t be completely silent. How long to get outside and outrun a bullet?

The thought of it coated her skin with fear sweat. She was fast, but nobody was that fast.

Still, she’d try it, have to try it if she had no choice. But she had another idea.

Still gripping the letter opener, she grabbed a small bowl and tossed it into the room across the hall.

When she heard him pounding down toward the sound, she melted into another room. She began her careful, silent backtracking, and this time she stayed ahead of him. With sweat stress sliding down her back, she had to wait, breathe, listen as he made his way from room to room.

Being more careful now, she judged, more thorough now.