This woman was Lindsey Doyle.
He’d studied her face at Ella’s request in preparation for this very moment.She looked much different than the photos – different hair color, different length, even taller – but Ella had assured Luca that Doyle was a master of disguise.Luca had stupidly believed he would be able to see through any disguise, but now this serial killing woman was standing in his kitchen with a face he didn’t recognize and a Glock 19 that probably had sixteen bullets ready to go.
And Luca had let her in.
His own gun was in the bedroom, because he hadn’t been allowed to take it with him to Philadelphia.There was nothing between the two of them but empty air and imagination, and the only sound in the room was the gurgle of the coffee machine heating up.
‘Hang up the phone, Luca,’ said Doyle.
Luca lowered the phone.Set it face down on the table.He could perhaps fire off a discreet 911 call and let them track his location, but he guessed any suspicious moves would seal his fate.He unfortunately didn’t share Ella’s deft fingers.
‘You don’t need to do this,’ he said.
‘Shut up.Raise your hands.’
Luca raised his hands slowly and kept them at shoulder height.
‘Good boy,’ she said.
She stepped further into the kitchen.Luca guessed there were about six paces between them now.Maybe four, but still too far to rush her.The DEA guys had drilled that into him all week.Distance was everything in a confrontation.If someone had a gun on you and they were more than four paces away, your odds of disarming them were practically zero.You’d be dead before you closed half the gap.
‘Where’s your weapon?’she asked.
‘I don’t have one.’
‘Lies.’
‘Come and check if you want.’
Doyle took one step closer, then clearly thought better of it.‘You’re a fed too.Of course you have a gun.’
‘Feel free to look around.’
‘Shut up.Where is she?’
‘My gun?It’s not a she.’
‘No.Ella Dark.Where is she?’
Keep her talking, Luca told himself.Talking meant thinking, and thinking meant hesitation.‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘No.I don’t.’
Luca stayed calm and tried to put himself in Doyle’s head, despite the volcano of dread erupting in his stomach.He now realized that the only reason Doyle hadn’t shot him already was because she was looking for Ella and she didn’t know where she was.
He could use that.
‘She’s on a case far away, and isn’t coming back for a long time.’
‘Bullshit.You asked me outside if I wanted to wait for her.So where is she?’
Could he rush her?Could he close the distance before she squeezed the trigger?A speedy individual could cover six feet in under a second, but a bullet covered it in under a millisecond.The math didn’t work.The math would never work.Every self-defense instructor Luca had ever trained under had said the same thing:don’t try to outrun a round.You’d lose that race every single time.Doyle most likely had fifteen rounds loaded and one in the chamber, so she could miss half the bullets and still kill him twice over.
‘I was just being nice.I knew you’d say no.’
She took half a step closer.To Luca’s right, the coffee machine quietly pinged.The water had heated up.
‘You’ve got one more chance to tell me where she is.’
