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“Don’t do it, girl,” Drake whispered. Before he could do anything, the girl entered the house, leaving the door open behind her.
Hopefully, her father wouldn’t shoot her. She would provide the distraction Drake needed to get inside and assess the situation.
Bending low, Drake cut across the front of the house, careful to stay below the porch and out of sight of the windows. When he reached the stairs, he didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate. He took them two at a time, treading lightly to make as little noise as possible.
“Daddy!” Abby cried out. “What have you done?”
“Stay out of this, Abigail. This is between the deputy and me.”
“No, Daddy,” Abby said. “You can’t hurt Cassie. She’s the only friend I have.”
“I can’t let her go. She knows too much.”
“That you killed my real mother? That you killed Mr. Hensley? Jesus, did you kill your own wife?”
“What do you care? She never loved you.”
“Because she wasn’t my mother. You made her pretend to be my mother. No wonder she hated me.”
Drake eased up to the front door, wishing he had a gun. Thankfully, Abby hadn’t closed the door.
Drake peered inside.
As he’d suspected, Frank held a gun pointed at Cassie. Abby stood too near to Drake for him to effectively launch an attack on Frank.
Drake willed Abby to move forward and take Frank’s attention further into the room.
Just past Cassie, a woman lay on her side, blood seeping from a wound in her chest. It had to be Frank’s wife.
The woman moaned and moved, attempting to crawl away.
“She’s still alive!” Abby cried. “You can’t let her die.”
“Why not? She means nothing to you. I can barely tolerate her.”
“Then why did you stay married to her all these years?”
Linda moaned again.
Abby dropped the hoe and ran to the woman on the ground. “You can’t let her die. Daddy, please!”
Frank now had his back to Drake.
Drake bunched his muscles and launched himself into the room, snatched up the hoe and swung it hard toward Frank’s hand holding the gun.
The metal edge of the hoe caught Frank’s hand and jerked it upward as a shot was fired.
Frank spun in a complete circle and came back around, the gun still in his hand and blood dripping from a gash on his forearm. “Bastard. I’m going to kill you and your girlfriend for meddling in something that was none of your business.”
“No, Daddy,” Abby said. “You’re going to put down your gun and turn yourself in.”
Frank glanced toward his daughter.
Abby held a gun in her hand, pointed at her father. “I’ve always loved you, but I can’t let you hurt any more people.”
“I did it all for you, baby,” he said.
“No. Don’t put that on me,” she said. “You did it for yourself. I won’t take responsibility for your lies and crimes. Now, put down your gun, or I’ll be forced to shoot you. And you know I’m a good shot.”
