Darell stared at Craig Barlow. What was happening here? And how dare dare the kid talk to him like that? the kid talk to him like that?

He tossed down the ma.n.u.script papers. "What makes you think I have another reason?"

"'Cause I don't buy the one you gave me."

"That so?"

Craig lasered him with his eyes.

Okay, if this was the way he wanted it. "You sound guilty to me, boy."

"Guilty? About what?"

"About stealing from my work, that's what."

Craig's face scrunched. "Huh?"

"That's right. You hacked into my computer. Don't think I don't know."

"Are you crazy?"

"Not half as crazy as you. I had a computer tech out here. He found your little spy program and traced it straight to you."

Craig sneered. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I was going to handle this more delicately, till you flew off the handle. Just admit it and promise not to do it again, and I won't go to the police."

"I am am the police." the police."

"How about the Sheriff's Department? This house is in their jurisdiction. Or the state police. I have some good friends there."

"You can't have half the friends in the state police that my father does."

A rank sense of injustice scissored through Darell's head. Its blades shredded the last of the script he'd hoped to use.

All right then-Plan B. He was ready.

"This is about you, Craig, not your father. About how I'm going to prove what you've done."

"That I'm stealing your work?" Craig laughed derisively. "What's to steal? The way I hear it, you can't even write any more."

Darell slammed a palm against the table. "Do I look like somebody who can't plot a suspense? Who doesn't know how to figure out things? I can tie your hacking to the murders!"

Craig stilled. His blue eyes burned white hot. Slowly he leaned forward, a snake positioning to strike. "Say again, old man?"

"You want to see what this 'old man' can do?" Darell spat. "I'll connect you to the black and green fabric. The cloth you used to strangle three women. Yes, three. You were stupid enough to take pictures of the last one."

Craig shoved back and jumped to his feet. His chair bounced against the wall and clattered to its side. "I knew this was a setup." He slid a hand into his jacket and pulled out a gun. "Call Kaitlan in here. Right now."

CHAPTER fifty-nine

At the crack of the book against hardwood floor, Kaitlan jumped. She jerked around to Margaret and saw the woman hunched over with hands to her head. What What-?

Craig's seething low voice yanked Kaitlan back to the monitor. Pete had zoomed out his camera to show both men, her grandfather's face in profile.

"Say again, old man?"

Kaitlan's breath hitched. "Somebody do something!"

Sam filmed on, Ed standing with his feet apart, arms folded. Pete's hand hung above the console even as he pushed back his chair and slid to its edge, ready to rise.

"This can't work." Margaret blurted. "He read it in a book book."

What was she - "... you were stupid enough to take pictures of the last one."

Kaitlan's fingers clapped to her mouth. Her grandfather had careened off course. Totally lost it.

She ogled his profile, seeing fury-and something else. Grim determination.

In that horrifying second, understanding steamrolled Kaitlan. The filming. He hadn't lost it The filming. He hadn't lost it. He'd planned for this. If Craig wouldn't cooperate, her grandfather's accusations were designed to push him over the edge.

Had he known all along this is what it would take?

Craig shoved backward and jumped to his feet with a gun. "Call Kaitlan in here. Right now."

"No!" Kaitlan and Margaret both cried. Kaitlan swung toward the door.

Pete heaved from his chair.

Ed jumped in Kaitlan's path and caught her hard by the arm. "You can't go out there."

"Let me go!" She pounded him in the shoulder with a fist.

He wrapped his arms around her and hung on.

Pete lumbered around the folding table, right hand pulling up his baggy shirt. A gun poked from a holster around his waist. He grabbed it. "Stay here, everybody-and keep filming." He opened the door and ran with muted long steps.

"Kaitlan!" On the monitor Craig bellowed her name toward the office door, eyes fixed on her grandfather. The old man hadn't moved. "Get in here, or I'm shooting!"

"She's not here," her grandfather snarled.

"Kaitlan! I'll give you ten seconds."

"Go on, shoot me, you coward."

His own murder, on tape-that's what he wanted. To save her from Craig.

"Let me go go." Kaitlan struggled to break from Ed's iron grasp.

He clung tighter.

She squirmed around to watch the monitor. Onscreen Craig's head jerked as if he'd heard a noise. He sidestepped toward the office door, out of camera range.

Margaret surged closer to the table to see, cutting off Kaitlan's view.

Crack. Crack.

Gunshots.

No!

Ed started at the sound. His hold on her momentarily loosened. Kaitlan shoved him away and ran.

"Craig!" She screamed his name as she barreled out the door, veering right. "Craig, I'm here!" Stumbling, she sprinted down the eternal hall, the office so far away, never, ever fast enough to save her stubborn grandfather.

CHAPTER sixty

Kaitlan screamed before Ed could stop her.

Who got shot-Pete or Craig?

Ed's eyes cut from the monitor to Kaitlan's fleeing back. As she hit the door and vanished, he took out after her.

She screeched her way down the hall. Ed chased, nerves pinging.

Everything within him wanted to yell for her to stop stop. But he didn't dare. He would tackle Kaitlan, pull her into another room ... If Craig was still alive he didn't know Ed was here, another man to fight.

"Craig!" Kaitlan wailed.

They pa.s.sed the living room on their right. Far ahead, across the entryway and in the opposite hall, heaped a body.

Pete.

At the edge of the entrance hall, Ed snagged Kaitlan's shirt. He yanked hard, pulling her backwards. She stumbled and fell against his chest.

From the office-Craig's voice. "Stay here, Brooke."

Ed swerved toward the kitchen, dragging Kaitlan with him.

CHAPTER sixty-one

Heart bludgeoning his chest, Sam stood his ground, camera trained on the monitor. He'd been brought here to film, and veteran that he was, he'd film to the end.

Margaret flailed two steps and collapsed to her knees.

"Get up!" he hissed. "Shut the door and come work the remote control."

"But-"

"Do it."

"I have to help-"

"You can't can't help out there. You want that man caught; this tape's the key." help out there. You want that man caught; this tape's the key."

Crying, Margaret pulled herself toward the door.

"Does it lock?"

"Yes, but they-"

"Lock it."

"What if they need to come-"

"Lock it."

Onscreen Sam couldn't see Pete. Or Craig. But he'd heard Craig's voice, commanding Darell to stay put.

Darell Brooke was pulling to his feet. In four steps he was off-camera. He'd headed not toward the door but across the office.

Was he calling 911?

Margaret floundered back to the table.