Page 35 of Bone Echo

“Coffee. In the pot.”

He knew where the mugs were. The first thing he noticed in the kitchen was the gun, lying on the countertop near the stove. It was Charlie’s Colt .45 single action Army Revolver, the design similar to its predecessor, the Colt Peacemaker, the most famous gun used in the wild days of the Old West.

He had no idea Laura knew how to use a gun. What other hidden skills did she have?

As he poured her coffee and added cream and sugar, the way he had seen his brother do, he listened to the drone of voices from the den.

“I was pouring myself a second cup of coffee when I heard the noise at the back door,” she told Jack.

“What kind of noise?”

“I had set some pots and pans in front of the door. Because of what happened…” Laura’s voice broke before she continued. “…yesterday. That’s the door the intruder used… both times.”

“So he ran into the trap you’d set?”

“Yes. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the pots and pans clanging and banging.”

“Did he say anything?”

“Yes. ‘I came to finish the job, Edna Sue.’ His voice was pure evil. Like worms crawling along my skin.”

Whether her emotion was real or acting, it was hard to tell. Jack waited for her to pull herself together.

“Mrs. Stephens, I know this is hard. Especially in light of what happened yesterday. But every detail is important. Does anyone now, or has anyone ever before called you Edna Sue?”

“Well… some of my foster parents used to call me Sue.”

“Is that your name?”

“My middle name. Laura Sue.”

“Do you know anyone named Edna Sue?”

“No.”

“Is it possible you heard the intruder wrong?”

“No. My hearing is acute. I know I’m a wreck, but I’m not that far gone.”

“All right. After he called you Edna Sue, what happened next?”

“He pulled a knife out of his belt and started toward me. I shot him with Charlie’s gun.”

Her bombshell sucked all the air out of the room, but Jack made a fast recovery.

“You shot him from theotherside of the bar?”

Dudley knew what Jack was driving at. Laura had to be a really good marksman to shoot through the space between the bar and the cabinets that hung above them and hit her mark.

“Yes.” She twisted her hands together. Was it nerves or fear of getting caught?

“Where did your bullet hit him?”

“His left arm. I’m nomurderer.”

Jack ignored the dig. “And then what happened?”

“He ran out the back door, and I dialed 911.”

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