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Despite what others might think, her battle wasn’t just for the insurance benefit that had never been paid because of the medical examiner’s ruling, nor was it to preserve his name. Certainly she didn’t want her children believing their father had taken his own life, but the real reason behind her determination was justice. She hated to think that someone had tricked or coerced Bart onto that ladder and then taken his life, just as her blood boiled to think that some sicko had attempted to kill Dan.

No. It just wasn’t right, and damn it, she wasn’t going to back down, not until she was satisfied that the truth had come out and Dan’s attacker brought to justice.

Or dead. That would be okay too. In fact, the bastard’s death would be a whole lot better.

He couldn’t believe he’d missed. Grayson was alive!

He drove through the streets of Grizzly Falls undetected, furious enough to consider going to the hospital in Missoula and finishing the son of a bitch off once and for all.

All day he’d waited to hear that Grayson had gone to meet his maker, but through the miracle of modern medicine and the damned luck of that stupid detective, the bastard had survived.

Be patient. What’re the chances that he’ll pull through? You know you hit him in the chest and the head. It will just take a little more time.

His gloved fingers tightened over the wheel as he slowed for a stoplight on the road that cut through the lower part of the town. Running parallel to the river, this street was as old as the town itself. Shops and restaurants, even the old brick courthouse with its imposing forty-foot Christmas tree, flanked the street.

Waiting at the light, he tapped his fingers on the wheel, fighting the urge to try to attack Grayson again, knowing it was too big a risk. The chances were too small that he could pull it off. Still, his eyes narrowed through the windshield as he watched a large group of pedestrians, all bundled in ski jackets and fleece, strolling across the street in front of him. He wondered vaguely why they were out, decided it wasn’t his business, concentrated instead on how he could get past the security guarding Grayson.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Time was running out!

Grayson needed to die so that he could continue with the next step.

Honk!!!

A horn blared and he glanced at the light, now glowing a bright green. He stepped on the gas quickly. His concentration was shot. That was the problem, he needed rest. Then, once he’d refueled, he would tackle the Grayson problem. The sheriff wasn’t getting out of this alive.

Chapter 10

“You’re a dead woman, Pescoli,” the voice threatened, echoing as if it were carried down a long, snaking tunnel.

Her heart slammed in her chest. Where was she? In the forest? There were trees everywhere, branches shivering and chattering in the wind, and the voice . . . it seemed disembodied.

Where are you, you bastard?

Freezing cold, Pescoli turned slowly, her eyes wide as she searched the wooded terrain where trees rose to impossible heights, their skeletal branches covered in ice, their rough-barked trunks thick enough to hide a man. Or an army.

“Who are you?” she demanded, crouching, keeping low as she reached for her sidearm. Her fingers came up empty.

Damn!

Nothing in her shoulder harness!

“Count the seconds,” the voice ordered.

She whipped around. Where the hell was the bastard? Her gaze scraped every square inch of the white landscape, blinding to the point that she had to squint. Still, she saw nothing. Her heart was trip-hammering, every muscle tense. Think, Pescoli, think. You’ve been in tighter spots than this. Keep him talking. Zero in on him. You don’t have your weapon, but you can get the upper hand. You’re a trained officer, for God’s sake.

Adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream, she yelled. “What do you want?”

“Five!” he called, his voice firm and harsh, seeming to come from all directions at once. Was he in front of her, hiding behind the heavy bole of the hemlock? Or was he coming up from behind?

Whirling quickly, she hoped to surprise him, but saw only more dense forest.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Come on, you coward, show yourself!

She was breathing rapidly, her breath fogging the air as she ducked low, moving quickly under the low-hanging branch of a pine tree.

“Four!”


Tags: Lisa Jackson Mystery