Page 105 of Crosshairs

The man’s lips moved, and Linc leaned closer. “Don’t want to die...”

“An ambulance is on the way. You’ll make it,” he added, hoping it was true.

“What were you doing here?” Ainsley asked.

The intruder shifted a dazed look at her. He reached for the mask, but his hand never made it to his face before he let it fall. “Beaumont ... got to...”

“What about Beaumont?” Linc leaned closer. Maybe this was Ainsley’s attacker.

He mumbled something and coughed, then he closed his eyes.

It sounded like he said kill ... or tell. Linc couldn’t make it out. “Did you understand what he said?”

When she shook her head, he turned back to the man.

“What were you doing here?” Linc demanded. The shrill wail of an approaching ambulance was the only answer he got.

Ainsley jumped up. “I’ll get the door,” she said.

The siren died with a yelp, and within minutes, paramedicsknelt beside the man, loosening his pants and removing the mask and his shirt.

Blue lights flashed outside the window, creating garish shadows on the wall as Linc joined Ainsley by the desk, waiting for the onslaught of officers. From where he stood, the man appeared unconscious. Could this be the man who’d been trying to kill her?

Once the paramedic removed the mask, Linc took a good look at him. “Do you recognize him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before.”

The man looked familiar in the way people did when Linc thought he knew someone but couldn’t pinpoint where or how. “I heard someone say Pete was on his way. Maybe he can tell us who he is.”

“I called Sam—he’s issuing me another Sig tomorrow until I get mine back.”

That was right. Ainsley would have to turn in her service pistol for ballistics. “You have a backup, right?”

“A small Glock, but I like my Sig better.”

Linc used his phone to photograph the crime scene, something he would have done before everyone arrived if he’d had time. Ainsley took her phone out and fumbled it.

“I’ll share my photos with you,” he said. Her adrenaline was crashing and would soon be followed by the guilt of shooting the man. It came with the territory, even though it’d been self-defense. He’d been there, done that, and if he’d had his gun, he could have taken this one for her.

“Thanks,” Ainsley said in a shaky voice. She turned to the fireplace. “I never knew there was a hidden stairway. I’m going to see where it leads.”

“Wait.” Linc motioned to Jonathan Rogers, a sergeant with the Natchez PD. “Okay if we check out the stairway?” he asked.

“I better come with you.”

The two men followed Ainsley down the steps to the basement. “You didn’t know this was here?” Jonathan asked.

“Not a clue,” Ainsley said over her shoulder. “I’ll ask Gran and Cora if they knew about it.”

The secret stairway exited through a panel right behind the regular stairway. “This is where the water puddled last Thursday night,” Linc said, pointing to the floor.

“It’s likely the guy upstairswasresponsible for Cora’s fall,” Ainsley said.

“Are you talking about Miss Cora?” Jonathan asked. “I sure hated to hear she’d fallen, but I thought it was an accident.”

“We can’t prove it wasn’t,” Linc replied, “unless the intruder admits he was here Thursday night. Do you know who he is?”

“Ronald McClain, the manager down at the Blue Lantern Coffee Shop. I’ve heard a few people call him Sonny—seems like that might have been a childhood nickname.”

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