Ray turned back to their suspect. “Mr. Harte, while Agent Cannon goes to grab her notebook, maybe you can tell me how you know the Duvalls, Coatneys, and Strands.”
Jane left them and found the young woman waiting for her in the grand foyer. The woman hustled her to the door, but not before she gave a subtle look with her eyes at the staircase, her smile strained.
“Just knock when you want to come back in, Agent Cannon. I’ll be here.”
“I will. Thanks.” Now feeling the sense that someone upstairs didn’t belong, Jane moved to the car and chanced a glance behind her at the second level of the house. She couldn’t see anyone behind the windows, the reflection from the sun making them impossible to penetrate.
Jane pretended to grab something from the front seat of the car while texting Ray.Upstairs trouble. Keep him busy.
She knocked again at the front door, waiting.
Sabrina opened the door, and Jane shoved her outside before pushing past her and shutting the door behind herself. “Sabrina? Where did you go?” Jane called out, hurrying up the stairs while taking care to remain as silent as possible. She felt more than heard movement at the top, some sense alerting her to an enemy nearby.
Prepared for trouble when she reached the top, she blocked the arm aimed at her throat, which would have knocked her back down the stairs. She shifted to level ground to counter the threat.
Cataloguing her enemy’s details in the blink of an eye, she fought back, conscious of her attacker’s greater height and lean strength. He had reach, but she had skill.
They’d see who came out on top.
Focused on what she could see of him, which admittedly wasn’tmuch thanks to his long-sleeved shirt and pants, dark boots, ball cap, and balaclava, she left herself open and took the hit to the shoulder, leaning into him.
At the same time, she ripped his mask down.
Jane got a good look at his face, noting the scar by his mouth and unusual light gray eyes, before he withdrew a knife and aimed for her stomach.
“Sloppy but fast,” the man said in a deep, accented voice. Not Russian. Slavic? Polish, maybe?
“And you’re not too smart, are you? I’m FBI, buddy. Stop now or you’re under arrest for assault.” She pointed to the badge on her belt.
The man laughed, doing the impossible.
He managed to creep her out.
Distracted, she almost missed his lunge with the knife.
Jane dodged it and disarmed him by smacking his elbow and wrist simultaneously, popping the weapon free.
He swore.
She swore back and angled with her back to the stairway.
When he moved to slug her in the gut, she ducked and moved into him. Jane threw him backward, over her shoulder, down the stairs.
He tumbled, smacking into the wall as he went.
Breathing hard, she wanted to go after him, but a shriek from small children down the hall grabbed her attention. “Ray, intruder down,” she yelled and hurried to the sound of crying.
She rushed to a door and unlocked the hasp on the outside frame, prepared to fight a new threat.
Instead, she found a slight woman her age cowering in the corner with two sobbing boys. The beautiful woman looked haunted, her arms slight, her mien fierce as she protected her children.
“FBI. Anyone else here?” Jane flashed the woman her badge, and the woman sagged and fell onto her butt, clutching her boys.
“N-no. Just the big guy in black.”
Ray soon joined them, his gun held at his side as he took in the scene. “House is clear. Everyone okay?” He looked Jane over.
She’d taken a blow to the shoulder, which hurt, but nothing else. “I’m good. Mrs. Harte?”
