Lethal (Lee Coburn)

She hesitated but eventually pulled a strip of tape from the roll and bit it off with her teeth, then wound it around Gillette’s wrists. The two of them got him secured to a straight chair that Coburn had Honor bring from the kitchen.

The man’s face was a swelling, bleeding mess, but Honor got the full brunt of his animosity. “I thought I knew you.”

“You do, Stan.”

“How can you do this?”

“Me? You came at Coburn like you would kill him. You gave me—us—no choice.”

“There’s always a choice. You’ve been making very poor ones.”

Meanwhile, Coburn was tightly winding duct tape around the knife wound on his arm in an attempt to stanch the bleeding.

Honor knelt in front of her father-in-law and looked imploringly into his face. “Stan, please—”

“Even if you have no regard for Eddie’s memory, how dare you put my granddaughter’s life at risk.”

Coburn could tell that Gillette’s sneering tone pissed her off, but she replied in an even voice, “Actually, Stan, I’ve been protecting Emily and myself.”

“By teaming up with him?”

“He’s a government agent.”

“What kind of agent stages a kidnapping?”

“I knew that would make you frantic with worry. I wanted to call and tell you what had really happened, but I couldn’t without jeopardizing our safety. Mine. Emily’s. Coburn’s too. He’s been working undercover in a highly dangerous position, and—”

“And he’s flipped,” he said, giving Coburn a scornful once-over. “Wacked out. It happens all the time.”

Coburn had already lost patience with the man, but Honor continued to address him in a reasonable tone. “He hasn’t flipped. I’ve spoken with his supervisor in Washington, a man named Clint Hamilton. He has absolute trust in Coburn.”

“So you thought you could, too?”

“The truth is, I had placed my trust in him even before I spoke to Mr. Hamilton. Coburn saved our lives, Stan. He protected Emily and me from people who would’ve harmed us.”

“Like who?”

“The Hawkins twins.”

Gillette barked a laugh, but, reading her serious expression, followed it up by saying, “Surely you’re joking.”

“I assure you I’m not.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He shot Coburn a furious look. “What kind of nonsense have you been feeding her?” Turning back to Honor, he said, “Those men wouldn’t touch a hair on your head. Doral hasn’t stopped searching for you and Emily since you disappeared. His brother lay dead, but he’s been—”

“Pumping you for information about them, about where they might be, who might be sheltering them?” Coburn came to stand beside Honor so he could address Gillette directly.

Gillette’s chin went up a notch. “Doral has been a loyal friend. He’s gone without meals, sleep. He’s been turning over every rock.”

“Getting information from his moles in the police department?”

Gillette said nothing.

“Doral used that info to stay one jump ahead of the authorities, am I right? While he should be in mourning, he’s been desperate to find us before any branch of law enforcement did. Why is that, I wonder?” He let Gillette chew on that for several seconds before continuing. “Doral and Fred Hawkins shot Marset and the other six.”

The older man stared up at Coburn, then laughed a dry, mirthless laugh. “You say. You who stands accused of that mass murder.”

“Fred would have killed Honor, and probably Emily, too, if I hadn’t shot him first. Ever since last Sunday night, Doral has been trying