Lethal (Lee Coburn)

Throughout the day, she had refused to accept that as an outcome, afraid that acknowledging it would make it a certainty. But as the day drew to a close, she could no longer delude herself. Time was running out for her and Emily.

As Coburn upended pieces of furniture to search the undersides, she clung to a single ray of hope: He hadn’t killed them immediately, which would have been more expedient than his having to cope with them. She supposed they’d been spared a sudden death only because he thought she could be useful to his search. But if he became convinced that she knew nothing and her usefulness ran out, what then?

Dusk claimed the last of the sunlight, and Honor’s hope went with it.

Coburn switched on a table lamp and surveyed the havoc he’d wreaked on her orderly house. When his eyes landed on her, she saw that his were bloodshot, making the blue irises look almost feral as they glowered at her from deeply shadowed sockets. He was a man on the run, a man with a mission that he’d failed to accomplish, a man whose frustration had reached a breaking point.

“Come here.”

Honor’s heart began beating painfully hard and fast. Should she throw herself over Emily in an attempt to protect her, or attack him, or plead for mercy?

“Come here.”

Keeping her expression impassive, she approached him.

“Next I’ll start tearing into the walls and ceilings, pulling up floors. Is that what you want?”

She almost collapsed with relief. He wasn’t finished yet. She and Emily still had time. There was still hope for rescue.

Denying that her house concealed a treasure hadn’t made a dent in his resolve, so she took another tack. “That would take a lot of time. Now that it’s dark, you should leave.”

“Not till I get what I came for.”

“Is it that important?”

“I wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if it wasn’t.”

“Whatever it is, you’ve spent precious hours looking for it in the wrong place.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know so. It’s not here. So why don’t you leave now while you still have a chance of getting away?”

“Worried about my welfare?”

“Aren’t you?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could die.”

> He raised one shoulder. “Then I’d be dead, and none of this would matter to me. But right now, I’m alive, and it does matter.”

Honor wondered if he truly was that indifferent to his own mortality, but before she could address it, Emily piped up. “Mommy, when is Grandpa coming?”

The DVD had ended, and all that remained on the TV screen were exploding fireworks. Emily was standing beside her, Elmo held in the crook of her elbow. Honor knelt down and rubbed her hand along Emily’s back.

“Grandpa’s not coming tonight after all, sweetheart. We’re going to have the party tomorrow. Which will be even better,” she said quickly in order to prevent the protest she saw forming on Emily’s lips. “Because, silly me, I forgot to get party hats. We can’t have Grandpa’s party without hats. I saw one that looks like a tiara.”

“Like Belle’s?” she asked, referring to the character in the DVD.

“Just like Belle’s. With sparkles on it.” Lowering her voice to an excited whisper, she said, “And Grandpa told me that he has a surprise present for you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. If he’d told me, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

Emily’s eyes were now shining. “Can I still have pizza for supper?”