Perfect Victim (Nadia Stafford 3.6)
Howard released my arm. As he texted Detective Lee, I headed for the attic ladder. I took it one rung at a time, moving slowly. When a board creaked, I froze, but Victor just kept doing whatever he was doing, the sound of rustles and clatter coming from the attic.
I crested the opening, and there he was at the workbench with his back to me. He was engrossed in his work, so I kept climbing. I moved over the tripwire as carefully as I could. As I put my foot down, though, it gave a soft thump, and that was enough for Victor to spin.
Chapter Twenty-one
Nadia
Victor saw me and went still. "Who the hell--?" He stopped as he saw my gun.
Then his gaze flew to the attic hatch as Howard Lang appeared.
"Hey, Vic," Howard said. "Gotta say, this isn't what I expected."
Victor pressed his back against the workbench. "What are you doing here?"
"Whatcha got there, Vic?" Howard said as he eased over the tripwire.
"N-nothing."
I stepped toward the bench, my gun pointed at Victor.
"Just taking precautions," Howard said as Victor stared at my gun. "You gotta admit this is a troubling situation. That"--he pointed at the tripwire bomb--"isn't exactly a welcome mat."
"Neither is that," I said as I nodded at the workbench. On it was a device with a timer. I cursed myself for not anticipating this. Did I really think a bomber would clean up his laboratory by shoving everything into a backpack?
"Blowing up the evidence, huh?" Howard said. "You know I can't let you do that, Vic, so step away from that bench."
Victor looked at the timer, its screen black. His fingers twitched.
"Uh-uh," I said. "You make a move toward that, and I'll take you out. The police are on their way. You're about to be arrested for the murder of--"
 
; "Me? No. I didn't kill anyone. It was Sheila. It was all Sheila."
"That story worked a lot better before we found you in the lab . . . right after you were warned it was about to be raided."
He shook his head vehemently. "I didn't build those devices. Sheila did. But when that cop mentioned the house, I knew she must have her lab here and . . ." He exhaled. "She's the mother of my children. Whatever she did, I drove her to it, and our kids shouldn't pay for our mistakes. I wanted to protect them. If that makes me an accomplice--"
"It makes you a killer," I said. "The son of a bitch who tried to frame his wife."
"No, I love Sheila. Just because we didn't work out doesn't change that." He looked at Howard. "You understand that better than anyone, Howard. Think of Mindy."
Howard's jaw clenched. "Don't bring Mindy into this, you bastard. You murdered her, and you're lucky I don't pull my gun and shoot you right now. My only consolation is knowing that when the police analyze this lab, they'll prove it was you, and you'll spend the rest of your life in a--"
Victor lunged at Howard. I held my ground. Victor wasn't armed, and I sure as hell wasn't shooting unless I had to, not when I couldn't just disappear before the police showed up.
Howard started to backpedal . . . and I saw the tripwire behind him.
"Howard!"
I didn't even get his name out before he realized what he was doing and swung to the side instead. That left the exit open with Victor heading straight for it.
"Stop!" I said, raising my gun.
Victor did stop, right at the trip wire. He turned to me.
"Do you know what that is?" he said, pointing at the wire.