Page 8 of Wintering with George

“That was some serious shooting you did,” Tunney concluded.

“Unfortunately, I get a lot of practice.”

Deng cleared his throat. “Special Ops, it said, when we pulled you up.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask your specialty?”

“Long range.”

He nodded.

I noticed there were so many police cars on the road, no one was getting through either way. Hopefully there was more than one way up and down the hill.

Tunney took hold of my bicep then, stopping me and meeting my gaze. “I know your Christmas plans didn’t include having to defend yourself and others, but we appreciate your keeping everyone safe.”

“I know that generally, out here in the world, you want to wound, not kill, and normally I do that first, but I just came off an op, so my mind is still there, not here. Also, you know, when you’re outnumbered, the smart thing is not to let people get back up.”

They both nodded. I had no idea whether they’d served or not, but they’d been in situations where there was no time to think, just act, so they understood my head space.

“Why do you think the Carrs were targeted?” I asked.

Tunney was fairly certain that due to Thomasin’s continuous online presence, it was easy for the five men to discern the whereabouts of her home and when her children would be there. “She’s on Instagram and YouTube and all those other platforms, and she streams live about things going on in her life, in her home, and in the lives of her children. She’s an open book. All of them, her whole family, are splashed across the internet twenty-four seven, and it’s not hard to figure out where the house is situated.”

I’d considered this myself. The thing was, though, listening to him reasoning it out loud, it sounded even weaker than it had in my own head. I wasn’t buying it.

“So you’re thinking these guys made the decision to come into the Carrs’ home based on her being an influencer?” I asked, squinting at him, wanting him to hear how implausible it sounded. “Did any of those guys look like people who follow her on Instagram?”

Deng and Tunney looked at me oddly.

“Excuse me if I’m a bit hesitant to get on board with that idea, Detectives. I think maybe you’re gonna have to dig a little deeper on this.”

Deng shook his head. “You saw the cars. Piece-of-shit Honda across the street, classic kidnapper van in the driveway. How could there be more?”

“Unless you run the plates and they both come up stolen, and you can’t tie the cars to any of them.” I shrugged. “For me, I’m wondering if these guys were sent. If you have something very different happening here.”

They were both quiet.

“Well,” Tunney finally said, “if there’s anything else to find, I assure you, we’ll get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, try and enjoy your holidays.”

I’d bet money my holidays would be spent on high alert.

THREE

Once I was back in the house, the first person I saw was Brad. He was on his cell phone, speaking loudly to someone and pacing in front of where the couch had been. It was gone, the cushions that the forensics team had taken clearly more than Kurt’s sister could live with. I understood. I wouldn’t want a blood-spattered piece of furniture in my house, reminding my kids of the worst day of their lives either.

Thomasin was on her cell near the dining room, talking to her assistant. This I knew because Thomasin had been looking around for her after everything happened. Apparently the assistant was supposed to have been in the house with the boys as an extra layer of safety, as well as to coordinate last-minute details for that afternoon’s event. It was good she hadn’t been, as she might have been shot and become collateral damage. Though going by Thomasin’s body language, the assistant might come to regret that.

The sliding glass door was now boarded up. That seemed fast, but it had been a couple of hours since the incident. The police had arrested everyone alive who’d been involved in the crime, the ME took the bodies, and the evidence had been collected to back up my order of events, as well as the eyewitnesses’ accounts. The only thing that would take time were ballistics. That meant that Thomasin was allowed to clean up her house as quickly as possible.

All the floors were hardwood, which made that easy, and the large area rug the couch had been sitting on was gone. Everything else seemed to be untouched, and I had to wonder if she was still going ahead with her event. I watched as she hung up her phone, ran her hands through her hair, pinched her cheeks, then went out the front door, where I knew, having seen them on my way in, that there were several reporters dying to speak to her.

Walking over to the foot of the stairs, I had to grab hold of the banister when I felt myself get lightheaded.

“Hey,” Kurt whispered, there beside me, hand on my back, the other on my hip, making sure I was steady. “How are you, baby?”

There was something so comforting about having him there when my adrenaline was ebbing and I was exhausted.