When the door closed behind her, Myers said in a low voice, “She’s lying.”

“About what?” asked Puller. “About Ballard. He wasn’t killed. He’s not dead.”

“So where is he?” She pointed to the bed. “Right there. That’s Chris Ballard.”

“Why should we believe you?” said Rogers. “She already lied about being

adopted.” Myers looked around nervously. “And there’s something else.” “What?”

asked Knox. “Davis has a gun.” Rogers said, “I’ve seen her use it. She saved my

life.” Myers dropped her voice to a whisper. “That’s not what I mean.

 

She has a gun on her now. I saw her put it in her robe pocket before we left the

house.” Puller and Knox instantly rose and pulled their weapons while Rogers

looked on.

 

They glided over to the bathroom door, one on either side of it.

 

The bullet hit an inch above Puller’s head. He dropped to the floor and rolled

as another shot shattered the lamp on the nightstand.

 

Knox cried out as a shard of glass cut her face.

 

Myers turned and fired again. This shot found its mark as the bullet slammed

into the forehead of the old man. He slumped over, dead. Another shot ricocheted

off a metal lamppost and burned a tunnel across Puller’s left forearm.

 

Rogers threw a chair at Myers, but it missed. She pointed her gun at his head.