Sting

Chapter 41

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S haw had followed the scrambled footprints into the thicket.

He was no longer under the delusion that Panella was responsible for the murder and mayhem of the past week. Once he had connected all the disjointed pieces, the picture had become startlingly clear. Elements to the case that had seemed not quite to fit before had suddenly fallen into place.

Josh had impersonated Panella, deliberately turning everyone’s focus on the meanie, while the stool pigeon duped them all. Shaw would kick himself later over not seeing it before, but when he’d started into that thicket, his focus had been on protecting Jordie from her deranged brother.

Josh was brilliant enough to have pulled off this elaborate charade, but he was also as crazy as a shit house rat. Like all rats, he got even crazier when trapped. Shaw hoped to God Wiley would have the presence of mind to caution every law officer on their way not to blare their arrival. He’d thought about stopping his pursuit long enough to text Wiley a message to that effect, but that would have cost precious time. He’d kept moving.

It was insufferably hot and sultry. Sweat had begun to sting his eyes. It had plastered his shirt to his torso. But he’d kept up a steady pace until he’d caught snatches of conversation up ahead, which meant that he was gaining on them. Ordinarily he would have been worried that his crashing progress through the brush would alert Josh that he was closing in.

But he’d doubted Josh was aware of his encroachment. Josh had been making more noise than he, snapping twigs, rustling foliage, and he’d kept up a running dialogue at full volume. The guy was completely psychotic.

Which had driven Shaw near crazy himself. He hadn’t heard anything from Jordie. Was she seriously wounded or unconscious? Josh might have already killed her and was only carrying her body somewhere for disposal.

That thought had chilled Shaw even as it had caused him to sweat more profusely. He muttered a blasphemous stream, followed by a prayerful chant, rage and worry twisting his gut where he’d felt stitches giving way to tension and exertion.

When he realized Josh had stopped somewhere ahead of him, he’d slowed down and had gone the remaining distance as noiselessly as possible. He’d taken a position behind a tree trunk and peered around it.

Jordie was alive! Thank God. She was standing on her own two feet. But her hands were bound in front of her. She had dozens of bleeding scratches on her arms. Blood had run down the side of her face from her scalp and now dripped off her chin.

Her expression was a tortured mix of compassion, revulsion, and terror, perhaps fully realizing for the first time that not even her selfless, sacrificial love was sufficient to penetrate her brother’s madness.

As Josh aimed the pistol at her, her face had remained stark with fear, but she looked him straight in the eye and didn’t cower.

Shaw had battled a primitive impulse to drop Josh immediately, but that would have traumatized Jordie. He wouldn’t do that to her. Besides, the government didn’t want Josh dead. It needed him in order to recover the stolen millions.

So he’d blinked sweat from his eyes and, as an officer of the law, assessed the situation with as much professional detachment as he could muster.

Nevertheless, he vowed that if that crazy son of a bitch killed Jordie he was going to cut his fucking heart out.

Now, not too loudly, but with authority, he said, “You’re not killing anybody.”

Jordie’s head snapped around toward the sound of his voice. She gave a sob of relief.

Josh didn’t even flinch. “Who’s that skulking behind the tree?”

“FBI Special Agent Shaw Kinnard. Drop. The. Gun.”

“No.”

“If you don’t, you’re a dead man.”

Jordie said, “He means it, Josh.”

He yelled at her to shut up.

In his peripheral vision, Shaw noticed motion among the trees and undergrowth on the far side of the bayou. Other officers had arrived and were taking positions. He hoped to hell that if this came down to a shoot-out, they were all good marksmen. Jordie was standing too damn close to Josh.

Josh said, “You really spoiled my plan last Friday, Kinnard. But you can’t save my dear sister this time.”

“I can kill you. And I will unless you drop the gun.”

“Josh, please.”

“Better listen to her, Josh. She watched me pop Mickey Bolden without a blink. Last chance. Drop the pistol and back away from her.”

“Do as he says. Please.” She raised her hands and placed them beneath her chin in a begging motion, then dropped them back to waist level. “Put the pistol down, Josh. Surrender. I’ll help you.”

“Like you’ve helped me before?” he screamed. “I don’t need your help anymore.”

“Please, Josh.” Her wrists were straining against the flexcuffs. “Please. I implore you.”

“Shut up, Jordie! Just shut up.”

“Josh, please don’t make—”

“You ruin everything! I hate you!”

Shaw saw Josh’s trigger finger tense, then several weapons fired almost simultaneously.