4th of July (Women's Murder Club 4)

The woman reached for the bedside phone even as she kept her eyes on me.

“He’s got my husband,” she said. “A man is in the bathroom with Ed.”

Chapter 140

I FOLLOWED MELISSA FARLEY’S gaze across the shadows to the door to the left of the bed.

The door opened slowly, and a male walked stiffly into the bedroom, his eyes wild behind blood-speckled glasses.

I noticed everything as the man came toward me: black T-shirt soaked with blood; belt, stripped from his pants, dangling by its silver buckle from his left hand; ugly hunting knife clutched in his right.

My mind raced ahead, thinking not where the knife was now, but where it would be next.

“Drop your weapon!” I screamed at him. “Do it now or I’ll shoot.”

The man’s mouth formed a grim smile, the chilling look of someone who is ready to die. He continued coming toward me, pointing the bloody knife.

My vision narrowed so that I could concentrate on what seemed necessary to my survival. There was too much to focus on, too much to control.

Carolee was behind me, unsecured.

The man with the knife knew it, too. His lip curled back.

He said, “G-g-get up! We can take her.”

I calculated what would happen if I shot him. He was less than ten feet away.

Even if I got him square in the chest, even if I stopped his heart, the closing range was short.

He was still coming.

I leveled my gun, fingered the trigger, and then Melissa Farley scrambled across the bed, launching herself toward the bathroom.

“No,” I yelled out. “Stay where you are.”

“I have to go to my husband!”

I never heard the door open behind me.

I never heard someone else enter the room.

But suddenly she was there.

“Bobby, don’t!” Allison screamed.

And for one long second, everything stood still.

Chapter 141

THE MAN ALLISON CALLED Bobby froze. He steadied himself, and I watched his face seize with confusion.

“Allison,” he said, “you’re supposed to be home.”

Bobby! The stutter hadn’t cued me, but now I recognized his face. It was Bob Hinton, the lawyer from town who’d run into me with his bike. I didn’t have time to figure out exactly how he fit into this picture.

Allison drifted from behind me as if she were in a dream. She walked over to Bob Hinton and put her arms around his waist. I wanted to stop her, but before I could, Hinton reached his arms around her and held Allison tightly.

“Little sister,” he whispered, “you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t see this.”