Page 83 of Hunter

“No,” he said.

“It’s all right now.”

“No.”

She stared up into his face. “What’s wrong? What did they do to you?”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

“Hunter?”

“A time to kill. . .” he said in a thick voice.

“What?”

“The songyouwere singing,” he said.

“Yes. I sang that. But. . .”

A groan from the floor made her turn. Reid was sprawled unconscious, but Kolb was lying on his back looking at her. A red stain spread across his shoulder.

“Dr. Kelley,” he said in a weak voice.

She knelt, felt the pulse at his neck. It was shallow but steady.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then asked, “Where were you—”

“Hunter saved me from the explosion,” she explained quickly. “We were hiding out—waiting for a chance to get out of here. Then Reid caught Hunter.”

The doctor gave a tiny nod. “Were you listening to us?” he said.

“Yes.”

“I saw your computer file.”

“My file?” She blinked. She’d been so careful to hide the drive in her pillow. Then the call about Hunter had come from Reid, and she’d forgotten all about the incriminating evidence.

“It’s safe,” he said. After the explosion, I came to your cottage and took it. Now you take Hunter. Get him out of here. You can save him.”

“I intend to.”

He was silent for several seconds. “Emerson dug into my records. He knew. . .” He stopped and started again. “He forced me to come here. Work for him.”

“I understand,” she said.

“Go. Before somebody comes,” the doctor said.

“What about you?”

“It’s not a fatal wound.”

“But you said—are you sick?”

He gave her a steady look. “Stomach cancer.”

“I—”

He didn’t let her finish. “My car. . . at the side of the research building.” He swallowed, then continued, “A silver Honda.”

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