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She pulled into the rear driveway of the clinic, reluctant to go in and face what she’d left. “Randall is in there.”
“One of my favorite people.” He expelled a deep breath as he opened the car door. Together they went inside. “Unlocked,” he remarked.
“I left in such a hurry, I didn’t bother.”
They moved through the silent, dim rooms. The ugly facts that had been revealed to her moments before the explosion came back now, enclosing her in rage.
“I don’t think he’s here,” Key said.
“He wouldn’t leave.”
“Hey, Porter, where are you?” he called. He approached the doorway to Lara’s private office. The door was only halfway open. He gave it a slight push.
Apprehension crawled up her spine. “Key, before—”
“Porter?” He stepped into the room. “Holy shit!”
His expletive galvanized her. She bolted into the room but drew up short on the threshold. “Oh my God!”
Key knelt beside Randall’s prone body. There was no question as to whether he was dead. A congealing pool of blood had formed beneath his head. His face was a frozen mask of surprise.
“I didn’t do it!” Lara gasped. “I didn’t. I didn’t pull the trigger.”
Key raised his head and looked at her. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course you didn’t do it.”
“I pulled a gun on him, but—”
“What?”
“The Magnum.” He followed her pointing finger to the revolver lying where she’d dropped it. “But I never pulled the trigger.” She covered her mouth with her hand, for once made sick at the sight of so much blood. “The concussion from the explosion knocked me against the wall…. But I didn’t shoot him. Did I?” Near panic, she stretched forth her hand. “Key! Did I?”
He stood and nudged the Magnum with the toe of his boot. His expression was incredulous and bleak.
“I didn’t,” she said, vigorously shaking her head. “I swear to God! I couldn’t. I only wanted to frighten him. I wanted him to experience some of the fear he’d inflicted on me at Emilio’s camp.”
“Lara, you’re not making sense.”
“Randall was responsible for Ashley’s death,” she cried, desperate for him to understand.
“How?”
“He was allied with Emilio from the beginning.” In disjointed sentences and broken phrases, she related to him what Randall had told her.
“I know it sounds inconceivable. But it’s the truth! I swear it. Oh no,” she cried, pressing the heels of her hands against her temples when she saw his skepticism. “Not again! I can’t go through this again. I can’t be blamed for something I didn’t do!”
“I believe you. Calm down.”
“Oh God, Key! I did not shoot him. I couldn’t. I didn’t!”
“No, I did.”
The husky confession came from behind the wedge of space between the partially open door and the paneled wall. Key reached past Lara and closed the door in order to see who was hiding behind it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Jody!”
Jody Tackett was sitting on the floor in the corner, her legs folded beneath her hip. A pistol, the obvious murder weapon, lay nearby. She was conscious, but had lost muscle control on the left side of her face. She had drooled on her blouse.
