Twin Targets. Marta Perry

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СКАЧАТЬ place to hide,” he murmured the words as he punched in numbers. “Think.”

      To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She touched his hand, guiding him to the stairs. They went up swiftly even as he identified himself and gave terse instructions to the local police dispatcher.

      She led the way into a bedroom, across it, to a closet.

      That was the first place they’d look. He shook his head, but even as he did so, she pushed clothes back to reveal a small door. Hidden at the end of the closet, it probably led into a storage space. Not great, but the best they could do.

      The sound of the door being kicked open downstairs decided it. He shoved Jade through the small door, pulled clothes back into place to hide the opening, and slid in after her, closing the door.

      Their hiding place was a narrow, confined space under the eaves, redolent of mothballs, the ceiling so low he had to stoop. He hoped she wasn’t claustrophobic. They were close enough that he could feel her breath on his skin.

      She had to be afraid, but she was handling it well, at least so far.

      Another thud, another door kicked open. The second thug was in the back now. Kitchen, probably. If he’d seen the rest of the house, he’d have a better idea.

      He heard their noisy progress through the downstairs. A mutter of voices came, and then one rang out loudly.

      “I tell you they have to be here. His car’s still there, isn’t it? Check the cellar!”

      Heavy feet on wooden floorboards, followed by the crash and tinkle of breaking glass.

      Jade moved on a swift intake of breath. He put his palm over her lips again, holding her immobile against him, shaking his head in warning, not that she could see it in the darkness.

      “They must be upstairs.” The one who seemed to be in charge spoke. “Let’s go.”

      Footsteps on the stairs muffled whatever response the other man made. Then his voice rang out, probably as they reached the top of the stairs.

      “…maybe this isn’t the right one, either. What do we do then?”

      Jade stiffened, straining against him as the import of the words seeped in for her, as well as for him. The right one? What on earth did that mean?

      Thought was cut off as the door to the bedroom crashed open. Micah shoved the woman behind him as best he could in the tiny space. He pointed his gun at the opening. He might not be able to take on both of them, but he could do some damage to the one who opened that door.

      “I’m telling you, they musta got out the back before I got there. There’s no place to hide in here.”

      “Check the closet anyway. I’ll cover you.”

      Micah held his breath, steadying his gun hand, a silent, wordless prayer forming. This was it—another second, maybe two—

      The faint cry of a siren, growing louder, mounted to a wail. He managed a breath. That had to be the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

      The gunmen reacted even faster than he did. Thuds marked their progress down the stairs, across the lower level, out the door. The car roared down the lane.

      Jade moved, squirming around him as if to open the door. He caught her, holding her still until he heard the cop cars pull up below. Then he got out of the closet first, holstering his weapon, holding both hands in the air, his badge opened in one.

      “Up here,” he shouted when he heard them enter the house, having no desire to start downstairs until he was sure he wouldn’t be met by a trigger-happy inexperienced kid. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw.”

      Two uniformed officers burst into the room, weapons focused on him. He stood perfectly still.

      “Who’d you say you were?” The older man barked the question, gesturing to the younger, a tow-headed kid who didn’t look old enough to be a cop. The kid edged up on him carefully and took the ID from his hand.

      “Deputy U.S. Marshal Micah McGraw,” he repeated patiently. “Two armed men broke in. Their car—”

      “We saw it.” The older man checked his identity card thoroughly, then nodded to him to put his hands down. “Already put out an APB.” He tossed the ID back. “Sorry, Marshal.”

      “No sweat—I’d do the same in your place.”

      “What about Ms. Summers? She here when this went down?”

      “She’s here.” He held the door open, and Jade crawled out of the closet.

      “You okay, Ms. Summers?” The officer holstered his weapon.

      “I’m fine.” She stood, straightening her shoulders.

      “All right, then.” He shot a glance at Micah, as if waiting for an explanation.

      There wasn’t one he could give, not now. He’d have to call in, get his people here…

      First, he had to make sure Jade Summers really was all right.

      As if aware of his gaze on her, she raked her fingers through her shoulder-length red curls in an attempt to restore order. She dusted off her pant legs and looked up at him. Eyes green as glass in a pale, heart-shaped face seemed to measure him.

      “Is it over?”

      Was there an honest answer to that? He wasn’t sure. Her likeness to Ruby shook him, and he tried to ignore the image of Ruby’s lifeless body.

      “For the moment,” he said.

      TWO

      “Why don’t you just come home with me?” Ellen Trask asked the question for the fourth or fifth time since she’d sat down in the kitchen with Jade. “I’ll convince them it’s okay.”

      Jade didn’t doubt that. Ellen might look like a elderly kewpie doll with her gray curls and cheeks as round and shiny as apples, but she didn’t take anything from anyone.

      She’d already gone one round with a patrolman who’d tried to get her to leave. She had come out victorious. That seemed to have her geared up to take on anyone to protect the tenant she tended to mother.

      “Thanks, but I’d better stay.” She tried to manage a smile, but was sure it failed. “I’d rather be here, in case they want to talk to me again.”

      Ellen didn’t argue. She just got up, her boot crunching on a bit of broken plate on the floor, and poured hot water from the steaming kettle into their tea mugs.

      “I still don’t see why they wouldn’t let me sweep this floor.” Ellen hadn’t liked it when the patrolman had taken the broom from her hand with a warning not to disturb a crime scene. “What’s a bit of shattered china going to tell them, I’d like to know?”

      She didn’t know, either, so she just shook her head, wrapping her fingers around the mug. But even its warmth couldn’t penetrate СКАЧАТЬ