“Do you want to talk to the police?”
“What if the bad guys find out I squealed?”
She patted his hand, happy to find soft, clean skin. “Kids who talk to police are protected. No names, no pictures.”
“Are you sure?”
She held out her pinky again. “On my life.”
He linked pinkies with her and met her eyes. “Why do you care so much?”
“I’m a reporter. It’s what we do.”
“Really? A reporter. Like, on the news and stuff?”
“Well, sometimes. I’m trying to get a promotion so I’m on five nights a week.”
“So you need this for that?”
“I do, but keeping you safe comes first.”
“So, now what?”
“Well, I think I should report this to the authorities. Are you okay with that?”
“Will you stay with me?”
“All the way.”
“Okay.”
She pulled out her cell phone and called the local police station. Normally she’d ask for Ned, but he worked the day shift. Instead, she spoke to the tip line. “My name is Brynn Stewart. I have a boy here who saw the murder of Cullen Shepherd. He has some information.”
The operator took her phone number and address, with a promise to send someone out right away.
“Now what?” he asked.
“Now, we wait. You know how to play gin?”
“No.”
“Well, I guess it’s time you learned.” She dealt the cards and walked him through the basics of the game. By the time she’d dealt the first hand, the gray pallor to his nervous face had faded and his cheeks had turned rosy. Just as she was about lay her cards down and call “gin”, a loud knock sounded at the door.
“They’re here already?” he said with a gulp.
It seemed quick, but then this was Cullen Shepherd. “I guess so. Don’t be nervous. I’ll go get it.”
She stopped before the door and hesitated when she reached for the handle. Something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t explain it. Tension filled the room, and the aggressive second knock made her jump back. Pressing her face to the peep hole she spotted four men at her door, all in plainclothes.
Two stood by a black Lincoln at the curb with the door open. She squinted and, trying to see more detail, spotted an automatic rifle under the jacket of one of them.
They weren’t the police.
Backing away from the door, she tried to think. The back door was probably covered. If they climbed out the window in the garage, they’d be seen by the guys on the road.
But there was the guest bathroom window. An air conditioning unit hid the area from the front and the privacy fence from the back.
She hurried into the kitchen and grabbed Skyler’s hand and her purse. “Come on. We have to go.”
