CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Briar Lane held its breath.
Connor’s SUV sat dark behind them, engine ticking softly.Selena moved beside him along the edge of Bradley Atkins’s yard, one hand near her weapon, eyes fixed on the brick house and the shadows beyond it.The porch light burned above the front door.Curtains glowed at the edges.Somewhere inside, a television murmured to an empty room.
Then a shape moved behind the house.
Selena raised one hand.
Connor stopped at once.
At the far side of the property, beyond a strip of lawn and a line of low shrubs, Renee Beaumont walked toward the tree line with a pistol in her right hand.
Bradley Atkins walked ahead of her.
His white shirt was untucked.One sleeve hung loose at his wrist.Both hands were raised shoulder-high, palms open.His head kept turning, but Renee stayed a few feet behind him, gun steady, her pace calm and unhurried.
The way someone moved after panic had burned itself out.
The way someone moved when they had done this before.
Selena drew her gun.“Renee Beaumont.FBI!Stop where you are.”
Renee stopped.
Bradley froze, breath coming hard enough for Selena to hear across the yard.
Connor drew, too, his weapon aimed low but ready.“Bradley, stay still.”
Renee turned her head slightly, enough to see them without taking the gun off Bradley.Her gray hair had loosened around her face.In the porch light and moonlight, the yellow cardigan looked almost white.
“Agent Raven,” Renee said.“Sheriff Chase.You came quickly.”
“Put the gun down,” Selena said.
“I don’t think I can do that.Oh, this is fun!”
There was an unhinged look in her eyes.
“You can put the gun down.Place it on the grass and step away.”
Renee gave a small, disappointed smile.“You’re very formal.”
“No sudden moves.”
Bradley’s voice cracked.“Please.Please, I didn’t do anything.”
Renee’s eyes did not leave Selena.“They always say that.”
“Renee,” Connor said.“Let him walk toward us.”
“No.”
“He’s not worth dying over.”
That drew Renee’s attention.Her face changed by inches, the polite mask tightening into something cold and offended.
“Not worth dying over,” she repeated.“That’s what men always think the harm is worth.Nothing.A silly little mistake.A weakness.A private matter.”
