Page 106 of The Shadow Friends

He opened his eyes. Winced as he took a breath. “Ingrid,” he whispered.

“Oh God.” She looked down at the blood on his shirt. “Oh God, no . . .”

More footsteps pounded into the house, but she didn’t bother to look up as Rodrigo stepped into the kitchen. Her attention was on Lloyd. Only Lloyd.

“Let’s take a look, shall we?” said Rodrigo. He pulled out a knife and slit open Lloyd’s shirt to expose the wound. The bullet had entered at the outside edge of the Kevlar vest. “It just missed the subclavian artery. Lucky man.”

“Lucky?” Ingrid snapped.

“At least she didn’t go for a head shot.”

“You were supposed to keep him safe!”

“How could I stop him? When I realized she was inside the house, he was already halfway here.”

She heard more footsteps approaching. Even before the man stepped into the kitchen, she knew who he was. It was the same man who’d saved Lloyd and Maggie in Amsterdam. The man Ingrid had met only days ago in Madrid, standing over the dead Vory with the gray hoodie. The man who had used her as bait by feeding her name to Moscow. He came through the doorway, walked across the broken glass, and stood over Hannah’s body.

Slowly Hannah’s eyes opened.

“She’s still alive,” said Jon Marcus.

Hannah looked up at him with a gaze that was fully aware. The bullet had ripped into her neck, and blood was streaming from her torn jugular, pooling in a dark halo around her head.

“Stop the bleeding,” said Rodrigo. “It’s not too late.”

Marcus said nothing, just kept staring down at the woman.

“There’s still time to save her,” said Rodrigo.

“Save her?” Marcus shook his head and pulled out a 9mm. “I’ve waited twenty-eight years to do this. Now it’s time to finish it.” He pointed his gun at Hannah’s head and pulled the trigger.

Chapter 42

Maggie

Monday

Her jaw throbbed, and after all the narcotics they’d given her in the emergency room, she was so unsteady that she had to lean against Declan for support. But she was alive.

Unlike the woman who was now on her way to the morgue. Hannah Murray’s blood had soaked into the kitchen’s century-old floorboards, and no matter how thoroughly Maggie scrubbed the floor, she knew this blood could never really be washed away. Traces of it would always cling to the cracks and crevices, joining the stains left by a century’s worth of splatters and drips that had seeped into the pine planks.

How will I ever clean up this mess? Maggie thought as she surveyed her kitchen, where a half-dozen crime scene investigators were now at work, huddled over blood and broken glass. After all that had happened tonight, hers was a ridiculously trivial concern, but that’s where her mind went, to the unavoidable drudgery of sweeping and scrubbing and mopping. Merely a coping mechanism, to avoid thinking about how close she herself had come to dying tonight. It was far easier to focus on the messy kitchen floor than on the memory of Hannah Murray’s gun at her head.

“You shouldn’t be here, Maggie. It’s a crime scene,” said Jo, crossing toward them, her paper booties whooshing over the kitchen floor. “And you look like you should be resting in bed right now.”

“She’s staying with me,” said Declan. “We’re just here to pick up a few of her things. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. Look, why don’t we go into the living room? I think Maggie needs to sit down.”

Maggie suddenly wobbled against Declan. He caught her and supported her as he guided her into the living room and set her down on the sofa. She was relieved to see that this room, at least, had not been disturbed, and everything was in order. Unlike the kitchen, it did not smell of violence and death.

Declan sat down beside her and grasped her hand, as if afraid she might float away from him. Tonight, she almost had.

Jo sat in the armchair facing them. “I’m afraid you’ll have to stay out of your house until the crime scene unit is finished here.”

“How long will that take?” asked Maggie.

“A few days, at least. Their unit is pretty overwhelmed right now. Two different death scenes to process—this house as well as the cottage on Lake Cameron. Agent Minnihan’s over there now, but he’ll have questions for you later, about what happened. A few details he needs to clear up.”