Page 143 of The Secrets She Keeps

And he had Leena. What if...what if Gunnar Erickson and his friends found Timothy and Trey and…

Trey had a gun. He would try to shoot. And they hadLeena.

Brianna drove past the park. She didn’t pull in, though she saw all those cars. Something didn’t feel right.

She had to help her sister. Somehow.

Well, Leena had other sisters out there. And they lived right next to Powell's brother Alex.

AndHeather.

Heather was supposed to be a super cop or something. Jack had been bitching about that very thing before. About how good she was supposed to be or something. That she was going to get attention.

Heather worked with that really big muscled guy who headed the Homicide division. Jack's boss.Jack said that man was a monster of a cop. That he was like the Finley Creek king of SWAT guy and everything. She thought Jack was kind of afraid of that man too.

They would know what to do. They were TSP she could probably trust. Jack's boss. She could trust him, Jack said he was an honest cop. She didn't always think Jack thought that was a good thing, but wasn't it?

And he had Timothy's baby daughter. That man did. Trey had told her that that man's baby daughter wastheirbaby sister too.Jack’s boss would want to stop Trey so that the baby would be safe, too, right? She turned into the Colesons' driveway. Therewasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to help her baby sister. Wasn’t that what being asisterwas all about?

Even if Number Nine Jude Way was thelastplace she ever wanted to ever be.

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The park had proventhe best cover. Heather had circled around the cul-de-sac on Crispin’s ten-speed. She’d been careful to avoid being sighted by anyone in cars. Just in case.

That niece loved to go fast and her bike reflected that. Heather’s entire body would protest later—she still wasn’t anywhere near healed, damn it. But she’d taken the back way in. She’d left Crispin’s bike by the rear shelter house and crept the rest of the way on foot.

She’d seen the first pair of men then. Men didn’t wear dark clothing and creep around the back door of a mansion in Hughes Heights without nefarious reasons.

Properties in Hughes Heights were between five and ten acres on average. Most had fences and gates. There were plenty of places for her to take cover as she crept closer.

There was no gate or fence separating her from the Barratts’ place. Their property looked right out at the park, almost merging with that space. On the other side of that park, on the main green, was the HOA clubhouse, the pool, the gym, the helicopter pad for the wealthy and elite.

Plenty of places for men to hide. To escape.

And to hurt others.

There was a light on in the Barratts’ side window. One light. But there were multiple cars in the drive. She saw Gunnar’s TSP-issue SUV right there. That confirmed it. He was there. Two other vehicles were there—she recognized them as Powell’s parents’. She’d seen them before.

Yet there was one dim light on inside.

And something was definitely going down.

Heather crept closer. She rounded the Barratts’ garage.

There was another car, parked right in front. A Barratt-Handley company car. With the door open, and the light on, illuminating the interior.

She slipped closer.

That was when she saw the hole in the driver’s side window. She knew exactly what she was looking at.

Heather stepped closer.

And looked inside.

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He stayed where he was,evaluating. There were at least four men, between Powell's parents' place and the house next door. About eight acres of land separated the two properties. Gunnar had a fifteen-clip magazine with him. Which could do the job, but not if he got his ass killed in the process.

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