Page 75 of Nicole's Shelter

No matter what Rick said about plans and fail safes, she shouldn’t have let her fear of guns impede her empowerment. She closed her eyes and imagined putting a bullet into Clifton’s crippled, black heart.

“The evidence!”

Her eyes flew open, her vengeful fantasy shattered. “I turned the evidence over to the authorities already.” She ignored Rick’s pleading eyes. It was all too clear that their plan was doomed to fail. This man had taken everything else in her life, she refused to let him take Rick too. If they had any chance, she had to create a diversion or bluff her way out of this.

“You’re lying. You’ve only sent emails containing altered images in a pathetic effort to mislead the investigators. I’m sure you’ll soon be charged with obstruction of justice along with arson.”

“Wow.” She tilted her head and forced her lips into what she hoped looked like a smile of admiration. “You are well-connected.”

“I am also out of patience, young lady.” He fired the gun into the floor.

“No!” Tears blurred her vision.

“Ah, that’s more like old times. Now, be a good girl and fetch the evidence or the next one goes in his head.”

“It’s right here.” She backed up a step. “In the kitchen.”

“Hurry.”

She obeyed, reaching into the cookie jar. Her fingers closed around the envelope but rather than pull it out, she carried the whole jar out to him. He couldn’t manage both the gun and the cookie jar. He’d have to make a choice and Rick would have an opening.

“There. The last evidence proving you executed Mr. Chan is inside.”

He scowled at her, but the gun didn’t budge from Rick’s temple. “Show me.”

She calculated and prayed this worked. His eyes tracked her hand as she withdrew the envelope.

“What the hell is that?”

“Proof you executed Mr. Chan.”

“Old news.” He knocked the envelope to the floor. “No one cares about that whiny old man.”

“I cared.” She did. If she only had moments left to live, she wanted the truth. She wanted some valid reason her life had been wrecked. “Tell me why you killed him.”

Clifton’s hand trembled, his face white with fury. “Where is the Fu dog?”

Afraid for Rick’s life, Nicole didn’t answer. She held the jar by the lip and swung it like a kettle bell toward Clifton’s jaw. It collided with a sickening thud, knocking him back.

Rick threw himself into Clifton’s knees and prayed the gun fell clear without hurting Nicole. He heard heavy boots storming through the door, but he ignored the shouting as he rolled on top of Clifton and slammed his head into the floor repeatedly.

Heavy hands hauled him up and away from his assault, holding him back when he tried to get back to Clifton.

“Settle down,” Bart ordered.

“Where’s Nicole?” He couldn’t see her anywhere.

“They’ve got her outside already. She’s safe. Where’s the dog thing he’s talking about?”

“Kitchen cupboard.” Resigned, he turned the figurine over to Bart. “Did Clifton have the female?”

“Yup. They seized it along with the rest of his possessions at his apartment in Los Angeles. Once they match the pair, that’ll tie him to the deaths of Nicole’s sister and mom. The bastard sure likes nice things.”

The Fu dog was dwarfed in Bart’s massive palm. “They’ve got him cold on three murders thanks to your girl, her pictures, and this little trophy. Eva added her research to the mounting evidence, putting him in the vicinity of the arson events sporting that signature.” He glanced at the stovetop. “You’d think being a DEA agent would be enough adrenaline for one man. He’s got serious issues.”

“Did the bugs work?”

Bart cleared his throat, color creeping into his face. “Like a charm. Alone, it’s not enough, but added to the rest…”

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