Page 75 of Every Which Way

From deep in the house, she heard a long, high-pitched cry made by a man. A scream of pain. Kenna drew her weapon before she had even registered the fact it was likely Chief Hadley, full of fear and torment. Beside her, Stairns pulled his gun out also. Kenna lifted her foot and kicked the door by the handle, ramming her foot against the wood several times before she managed to get the door open.

It swung back to reveal a tile entryway and a small dog with long hair barking loudly at them. With each yap, it lifted its front paws off the floor.

“Sorry, dog.” Kenna raced past the animal into the house. “Living room clear.”

“Dining room clear.”

She heard movement down a hallway and paused at the corner before looking around, gun-first. A woman ducked into a side room, blond hair flying. She had seen a photo of the wife that Maizie had found for her online. It could be Mrs. Chief Hadley, but unless she saw the woman’s face, she couldn’t know for sure.

Kenna raced to the room with the door open, keeping herself back from the door so that she didn’t put her vital organs in the line of fire. Maybe she should start wearing a bulletproof vest, just on regular days. Every day. There was probably a high-end version that was a lot thinner than the bulky vests worn by first responders.

The room was empty.

Kenna stepped back, frowning. Where had that woman gone?

She kept going, opening another door along the hallway. This one led to a study with ceiling-high bookshelves and a ladder. It looked like a very female space, with lots of well-loved novels on the walls. In the center was a sofa, an armchair, and a coffee table. Apparently, the wife liked to read all kinds of popular novels.

She left the door open and went to the next room. Behind her, down the hall, maybe even on the other side of the house, she heard a crash. It sounded like Stairns had started to fight with someone. She was about to turn back to him when she caught sight of who was in the room.

Chief Hadley was tied to a rolling office chair in front of the fireplace in this very masculine office, with the huge TV over the fireplace and a ratty armchair that probably reclined. His wrists had been secured to the arms of the chair. Duct tape had been wound around his chest and the back of the chair so that he wasn’t able to go anywhere. The wounds on his face were extensive, making her swollen cheekbone throb.

She went over and touched two fingers to his neck but felt no pulse. Kenna grabbed her phone and got on the walkie talkie app. She told Bruce to send a text to Langford explaining what’d happened. Then she went to the hall. “Stairns!”

A crash sounded from the other end of the single-level house. Maybe the bedroom? Something shattered like it was made of glass.

“Stairns!”

She took two steps before she was shoved from behind. Kenna stumbled, glancing off a side table in the hall and knocking over a vase. She spun around and saw a blond woman duck into another room. Kenna whipped the door open, going gun-first into the room.

The woman grabbed her arm.

Kenna planted one foot, still moving into the room, and kicked the woman’s legs out from under her.Mrs. Hadley.With the hold the woman had on her arm, Kenna had to go down on top of her, otherwise Mrs. Hadley would’ve pulled on her injured arm too much.

They tumbled to the floor, and Kenna landed elbow first on the woman’s chest. Her bumps and bruises—and the swollen side of her face—smarted. She kicked off the floor and rolled, but Mrs. Hadley put her strength into it, and they went too far.

The woman launched off Kenna and ran through the room. Kenna lifted her shoulders off the floor, pointed her gun at the fleeing woman, and moved her finger to the trigger. She didn’t squeeze.

Mrs. Hadley pulled open a closet door at the back of this small bedroom and ducked into it.

Kenna frowned.

She went to the closet, opened the door, and found…nothing. Just a rail of clothes in front of her and a shelf above. Nothing moving. Was she was hiding? There were no legs under the rail of clothes. No attic access above her. “Secret door.”

Rather than chase a woman through passageways she didn’t know, Kenna retraced her steps to find Stairns in the dining room. His gray hair was rumpled, he looked flushed, and his shirt was askew. The woman in front of him held a kitchen knife, and he had found some kind of cloth—like a fabric place mat—and had it wrapped around both hands to ward her off.

Kenna stepped into the room with her gun raised. “Put the knife down or I shoot.”

The woman breathed heavily through gritted teeth. Behind her was a window, between them a dark wood table. Two chairs were knocked over. Stairns was over to the left, giving Kenna a clean shot.

Problem was, why did she look like Mrs. Hadley? Kenna had been fighting that woman—this woman—in that room down the hall, and she’d run into the closet. And yet, Stairns had been in an altercation with this Mrs. Hadley since before Kenna found the husband dead in that chair.

“Twins.”

Stairns said, “Huh?” not moving one muscle, ready for whatever this woman was going to do next.

“There’s more than one of her in this house.”

Mrs. Hadley—the one Stairns had been fighting—threw the knife at Stairns. In the split second she took to swing her arm back before she launched the blade forward, Kenna squeezed the trigger on her gun.

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