AllFreeNovel
Share Us
BANG.
Booker grabbed his chest, staggered, and went down.
“You stupid shits!” Clarice shrieked, running outside, her pistol back in hand.
Delta frantically worked her bonds. Ellie stirred, rolling an eye at Delta. “We gotta get outta here,” she whispered, and Delta realized she’d been playing possum.
“Booker!” Harry called in distress, as if he hadn’t just shot him.
Ellie tried to get up, groaned softly, hung her head for a moment.
“Help,” Delta said softly.
Ellie edged her way closer. Booker was groaning, Harry was crying, and Clarice was shouting.
Ellie’s fingers found the knot.
“Can you get it?” Delta asked.
“Almost.”
BANG. BANG.
Delta jerked and gasped. That sounded like the same gun Harry had fired.
A moment later, Ellie collapsed on the floor in much the same position as before as Clarice appeared in the garage doorway. She was carrying a much larger gun than the pistol. Booker was still moaning and writhing on the ground, but there was no sound from Harry.
“They killed each other,” she said, trying out the idea to see how it sounded. “They were helping Amanda kill the people she hated.”
Then she picked up one of the cans and starting pouring gasoline.
Delta feverishly worked at the knot Ellie had loosened.
As if suddenly aware, Clarice looked up from pouring out a second can. She came over to Ellie and Delta, holding the half-empty can. Delta regarded her warily as she nudged Ellie with a toe.
In the next second, she smashed the can down on Ellie’s head.
* * *
“Where are we going?” Quin demanded into the phone.
“The Forsythe house. I don’t believe Delta is meeting Amanda at her office. I think they’re there. I’m on my way.” McCrae had driven to the Portland outskirts talking to Woody, but had turned around directly afterward. Quin had sent officers to Brad Sumpter’s house, and Brad had apparently admitted that he was the guy who’d been sent to spy on Bailey and Penske, that he’d made sure Penske was doctoring Bailey’s drink, and that the purpose of drugging Bailey was to get the notebook. But then Penske had been a loose end, apparently, and Gale killed him. Brad swore no one was supposed to get hurt—no one!—and he’d been sick at heart and horrified ever since. He also swore he’d never participated in any further Crassley scheme and had filched the notebook from where Gale Crassley had hidden it to give to Delta or Amanda. He’d left it on Amanda’s front porch.
“I’ll meet you there,” Quin growled.
“Get Portland PD to check on Amanda’s office in case I’m wrong. Layton, Keyes, and Brennan.” They already had a team heading to Clarice Billings’s home.
Quin grunted an “Okay” and clicked off.
McCrae hit the accelerator but not the siren. Maybe he was overreacting, but he didn’t think so. Neither Ellie nor Delta was answering. Something was wrong.
* * *
Clarice dragged Booker and Harry by their heels into the garage and left them by Zora’s Mercedes. Booker was no longer making any noise. She then returned to pouring the gasoline. The fumes were filling both garages, choking Delta.
Ellie’s head was bleeding profusely. She was out cold.
“Gotta bring that other car in,” Clarice was muttering. “Gotta bring it in.”
