Page 3 of Long Road Home

Betty said, “Kenna, what are you talking about?”

Kenna locked her eyes on Marion.

The older woman shifted on the piano stool. “Yes, what?”

Kenna shrugged. “I was just thinking about Marcus in the book. Getting into his head, you know?”

Marion cleared her throat. “He was bad.”

“But he didn’t care. He jumped on opportunity and did whatever he wanted.” Kenna stared at her. “She didn’t care who she hurt.”

Charlayne smacked her lips. “You meanhe.”

“No, I don’t,” Kenna said.

Forrest came back in. Kenna took her gaze off Marion for a second, long enough to see her friend—her partner—nod. Kenna stood, ready to get this settled. But was she ready to admit that working with someone was better than being alone?

She wasn’t so sure about that.

Charlayne uncrossed her legs and launched up. “What are we doing?” She swayed forward off balance.

Marion grabbed her, spun her around, and pointed a revolver at the underside of her chin.

Charlayne dropped the glass, which shattered on the edge of the coffee table and hit the dingy carpet. The lid of the piano stool was open.

Betty gasped. Kenna drew her weapon and held it pointed at Marion.

Charlayne screeched, “What is going on?”

Forrest said, “I found a stack of dirty dresses that would fit a small girl the age of the ones who disappeared. They’re old, waiting to be washed.”

Betty stood. “I’d like an answer to that as well.”

Kenna saw the gun in her peripheral vision. Betty had a .22 she’d pulled from her purse.

“I’ll kill her!” Marion’s white-knuckle grasp on Charlayne’s arm and the gun to her throat spoke loudly enough.

“Put the gun down.” Kenna held her aim on the child kidnapper, but there was too much risk of hitting Charlayne to fire. Marion probably knew that. “Put it down, and we can talkabout this.”

Let her think there was a way out other than prison.

“Talk?!” Marion yelled. “You shouldn’t have said anything!”

“If you knew who I was,” Kenna said, “you’d know that’s not possible.”

Forrest crept up behind Marion with a double-fisted grip on an umbrella.

Kenna couldn’t react, even though she wanted to tell the woman to stand down. Then again, maybe that was the way to resolve this.

Forrest swung with the umbrella, clipping Marion on the side of the head.

Charlayne screeched.

Marion whirled back from the blow to bring her gun up, aiming at anything in her sights.

Kenna had already moved. She grabbed Marion’s wrist, jerked it forward and brought her knee up. Marion’s face cracked against Kenna’s knee, and she howled. Kenna got the gun, aimed Marion in the direction of the armchair, and handed Marion’s gun to Forrest. “She doesn’t get up.” Then glanced at Betty. “I don’t want any accidental shots. You hear me?”

Betty was focused entirely on Marion. “I hear you. What’s going on?”

---