Page 112 of Crosshairs

He listened to her end of the conversation with the nurse at the hospital as he set the cereal box on the counter and put out the milk. Evidently there’d been no change in Cora.

“Thank you,” she said into the phone. “Can you tell me Drew Kingston’s condition?” Her jaw set as she listened. “I see. Well, thank you anyway.” Ainsley disconnected and looked up. “She wouldn’t discuss Drew with me. Confidentiality.”

“Definitely not the nurse we talked to yesterday,” he said.

“No.” She poured cereal into the bowl and added milk. “I’ll check on him when I visit Cora later today.”

Linc checked his watch. “I talked to Pete, and one of his officers should be here by now. You could ride with him instead of taking the station wagon.”

“I like the idea of having my own wheels. Besides, I don’t think Maddox would expect me to be in a thirty-year-old car.”

“Just be sure to watch the gauges. No telling how long since Cora has driven it.”

She nodded and walked to the hall with her cereal in one hand and a fresh cup of coffee in the other. “Hope you have a good day,” she said over her shoulder.

“You too.”

Linc quickly washed out the percolator and his cup and left them to drain. He’d put them away tonight. Wouldn’t do for Cora to return home to a messy kitchen.

Half an hour later, he parked in front of his apartment and hustled inside, hoping what he planned to do wouldn’t take long. In his bedroom, he took a deep breath and repeated the verse in Joshua he’d read last night. He could do this.

Linc’s hand shook as he reached for the box holding his service Glock and set it on the bed. At least he got that far, but it wasn’t the box he needed. He turned back to the closet and fished out the smaller container that held a Glock 19, a smaller semiautomatic.

He stared at the two boxes, and the familiar roiling of his stomach kicked in. It was as though something had sucked the air out of the room. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

Someone was trying to kill Ainsley. Her life could depend on him. Linc swallowed hard and straightened his spine.Lord, help me.

In one motion, he flipped the lid off the box and took out the smaller Glock 19 that was comfortable yet foreign in his shaky hand. He tamped down the nausea that threatened to come up his throat. Maybe if he just strapped the gun to his ankle and didn’t load the magazine. That seemed doable.

Once he had the holster around his leg, he was tempted to just wear it and not the gun. He almost laughed at himself. Why was he having so much trouble? He’d worn an ankle gun hundreds of times in the past.

Fear not, for I am with you.Gritting his teeth, he shoved the magazine into the Glock, holstered the gun, and concealed it under his pants leg.There.He straightened up and took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he said softly, looking up. At least he hadn’t had a full-blown panic attack.

58

Ainsley returned to the kitchen, noting Linc had put away the cereal and milk and had poured out what was left of the coffee. She meant to tell him to leave it, and turned on the pod coffee maker. Sometimes the man was too efficient. Ainsley washed out her bowl while the water heated. She needed one more jolt of caffeine before getting dressed.

At eight, she called the high school and was told the principal would not be in until ten. When she asked about the coach, the secretary indicated he could be found at the school anytime today. Then she called and canceled her appointment with the trust lawyer. She simply didn’t have time for it today.

An hour later, Ainsley waved at the police officer in the black and white cruiser before she backed her aunt’s station wagon out of the garage. She and Cora were about the same height so the seat was already adjusted for her long legs, but her pickup sat up much higher. She didn’t like being this close to the ground.

The school wasn’t far from Cora’s house, making the drive short. Ainsley pulled into the almost empty parking area and found a spot she could pull through. Driving the station wagon was like driving a boat. Then she took a minute to admire the new high school. About time the county built a new building, and what a contrast it was to the old one she’d attended—sleek, modern lines, a new gym, Astroturf on the football field...

Staring at the new building wasn’t getting her job done. Shegrabbed her backpack and remembered to take the keys before she climbed out of the station wagon. “I’ll be inside,” she said to the officer who had parked behind her. “No need for you to come in.”

She checked in at the principal’s office and was told he wasn’t in yet. “Do you mind if I find Coach Andrews and talk to him?”

“That should be fine since he’s the assistant principal anyway. Today is the first day of football camp, and Coach Andrews said something about showing films. You’ll find them in the gym.”

The secretary gave her directions, and after getting lost in the cross corridors only once, she found them. When she stepped inside the huge gymnasium, it struck her that this one hadn’t been used enough to pick up the smells common to gyms in South Mississippi, where the kids in the bleachers were as sweaty as the players.

As she crossed the gym floor, Ainsley rested her hand on the Sig that Sam had dropped off right after Linc left. She didn’t count the boys, but figured there were at least twenty-five football players laughing and cutting up in the lower section of the bleachers. A big-screen TV had been rolled out and a formation had been paused on the screen. A couple of heads turned in her direction as she approached.

“Coach Andrews?” she asked, holding out her hand to the dark-skinned man with a remote in his hand. “Ainsley Beaumont, Investigative Services Branch of the National Park Service.”

His hand swallowed hers, the handshake gentle but firm. “What can I do for you?”

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