Three times? Mason’s gut twisted. Jake was never leaving the house again.

“And then I was surprised as hell to discover that you’d gotten a dog. Wyatt had a dog. I gave it away after he died. Dogs and boys belong together. I had no place in my life for it after that.”

Ava slowly lifted the handset to speak. “You let Henley and the dog go. Why?” she asked softly.

Mason felt her voice flow through him like creamy hot chocolate, and his spine relaxed. She had a special gift that worked on Kent as well as himself.

Kent shrugged and looked away. “Killing them wasn’t going to hurt you like I needed it to.”

He turned an eagle-sharp gaze back to Mason. “I wanted to pierce you in the heart. The loss of the dog and the girl would give you anxiety, but nothing like the pain of losing your son. I knew I had to return to my original plan to fully destroy you.” He twisted his hand with the knife near Jake’s ear, laying the blade against the source of life flowing through Jake’s neck. Exactly where the homeless man had held his knife on Wyatt.

“I know how to aim for your heart,” he said to Mason as he slowly raised his gun.

Blood appeared on Jake’s neck as Mason shouted, his vision narrowed on the movement of Kent’s blade.

Time slowed.

Kent fired and Ava gasped. Mason drew his gun and heard the windows crack behind him with the retort of rifle fire. Kent jerked to his right, knocking Jake to the floor as he spun away. Kent raced to the back of the store, zigzagging to avoid more sniper fire.

Beside Mason, Ava gasped again and bent over the check stand, her hand clasped to her shoulder. Blood flowed from under her hand. Kent’s bullet had caught her. Mason froze, torn between Ava and Jake and Kent.

Who first?

Corello grabbed Ava’s arm and shoved her to the floor, putting pressure on her shoulder.

“Go!” she yelled at Mason. “Go to Jake.” Her blue eyes pleaded. “I’ll be okay.”

Corello looked up and nodded, his face grim.

Mason raced around the check stand, dropped to his knees next to Jake on the floor in the freezer aisle, and ran his hands all over his son, checking for gunshot wounds. “Jake!”

“Dad! I’m okay.” Jake squirmed in his grasp. “I’m not hit.”

He wrapped his arms around Jake as they sprawled on the floor. Mason squeezed tight, trying to slow his skyrocketing heart. Jake is safe. Mason tilted his son’s jaw away to get a look at his neck. The slice in Jake’s neck was shallow. Nothing life threatening. He stood and hauled Jake up with him. “Get down behind the check stand with Ava. And stay there until they take you out of the store!” he ordered, giving the boy a shove in the right direction. Jake stumbled, his arms still tied behind him. He caught his balance and turned around to look at Mason.

“What about you?” Jake’s eyes were wide.

“I have to stop that son of a bitch.”

Mason heard shouts of “Everybody down!” as the SERT team rushed into the store. He didn’t obey. He was going to find Kent Jopek first.

He ran down the aisle, following the drops of blood.

Jopek had been hit.

26

The drops led to the double swinging doors at the back of the store. Mason took a deep breath, stole a peek through the hazy plastic window in one of the doors, and then pushed through with his gun leading the way.

The back room of the grocery store was silent, the cheery holiday music confined to the aisles of the store. The floor changed from highly polished tile to concrete, and the lighting dimmed. The back of the store was like a garage. High ceilings, unfinished walls, and crap stacked everywhere: boxes; mops; brooms; damaged, unsalable goods. Pallets of groceries in cardboard boxes wrapped in clear plastic waited to be opened and unpacked. Mason scanned the room. The blood trail led to his left, around the corner of a huge walk-in cooler.

He followed.

Shouts came from the front of the store, where the SERT team was methodically clearing the aisles. Any moment they would find the blood trail.

Let them handle Kent.

Go check on Ava.

He couldn’t do it. He pushed on. He had to find the man whose life he’d destroyed two decades ago. He couldn’t let Kent Jopek walk away. Part of him felt he owed the man something. But what? He’d nearly killed Jake, Henley, and Ava. He had killed Josie Mueller.

You owe him nothing.

Mason had spent twenty years agonizing over the pain he’d caused Kent; it was hard to change his way of thinking. Over four days, the man had uprooted the lives of Mason’s family. He didn’t deserve to be handled with kid gloves. Kent Jopek was now a destroyer, not a victim, and Mason needed to wrap his brain around it.

He killed Josie in cold blood.

Mason slowed his steps. No doubt Kent would shoot the moment he saw him. He ducked his head around the corner of the cooler to catch a quick glance at the pathway behind it.

All clear.

He stepped quickly around the corner, weapon in front, eyes scanning for movement. The blood drops followed the back wall of the cooler. Mason moved forward, listening hard for Kent. Tall pallets of groceries and a cardboard-baling machine created a narrow aisle behind the cooler. He kept going, peeking between the pallets of dry goods as he passed.

Faint sounds of an ambulance siren sounded outside, making Mason nearly gave up his hunt. Ava? The gunshot wound to her upper arm hadn’t looked bad. But what if the bullet had hit more than her arm? Damn it. Wouldn’t she have mentioned that?

A rustle sounded ahead on his left.