The Neighbor - Lisa Gardner [156]
Up on the second branch, a smudge of black, which upon closer inspection with their flashlights turned out to be a dark brown leather glove.
“Think that glove fits Jason Jones?” D.D. asked.
“I think there’s only one way to find out.”
“Hide,” Jason whispered urgently. “In the closet. Now. You’re missing, remember? No one will think to look for you.”
Sandy remained rooted in place, so he pushed her toward the open closet, getting her inside and partially closing the door.
The footsteps were on the stairs now. Slow, stealthy. Jason grabbed two pillows and shoved them under the sheets, a poor attempt at fashioning a sleeping body. Next, he pressed his back against the wall next to the door and waited. He was very aware of his four-year-old daughter, sleeping just twenty feet away. He was very aware of his pregnant wife, standing in a closet only ten feet away. It made him feel icy, preternaturally calm. Deep inside a zone, where if he had a gun, he’d be emptying a clip into the intruder by now.
The footsteps paused in the hallway, probably outside Ree’s closed door. Jason found himself holding his breath, because if the intruder opened that door, woke up Ree, tried to grab her …
A soft shuffling sound as the intruder eased forward one step, then another.
Another pause. Jason could see a shadow in the doorway, hear the sound of low, even breathing.
“Might as well come out now, son,” Maxwell Black drawled. “I heard you moving when I was coming up the stairs, so I know you’re awake. Keep this simple, and your daughter won’t get hurt.”
Jason didn’t move. He held the heavy metal flashlight by his hip, debating his options. Maxwell hadn’t stepped far enough into the room for Jason to ambush him. The crafty old man stayed a foot back from the open doorway, enough in the hallway so he could see into the room while keeping his sides protected.
The hall floor creaked slightly, a man moving backward, one step, then two, then three.
“I’m at her door now, son. All I gotta do is turn the knob, flick on her light. She’ll wake up. Ask for Daddy. What do you want me to tell her? How much do you want your little girl to know about you?”
Jason finally eased away from the wall. He moved out just slightly, enough that Maxwell could see his profile, without exposing all of his body to the hallway. He kept the flashlight behind his back.
“Little late for a social call,” Jason said evenly.
The old man chuckled. He stood in the middle of the lit hallway, outside of Ree’s room. He hadn’t been bluffing; the man had one gloved hand on Ree’s doorknob. In the other black-gloved hand, he held a gun.
“You’ve had a busy night,” Maxwell said, gun coming up, aiming somewhere around Jason’s left shoulder. “Shame you had to kill young Brewster like that. Then again, most people think death is too good for those perverts.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s not what the police are thinking. Bet they’re tossing his place right now. Finding some old love letters Sandy wrote years and years ago stuffed under his mattress. Then there’s the discarded glove here, broken branch there. I give them twenty, thirty minutes, and they’ll be here to arrest you. Means we’d better keep this quick.”
“Keep what quick?”
“Your suicide, boy. Christ almighty, you killed your wife, shot her lover. You’re wracked with guilt, consumed with remorse. No way a man like you can be a fitting father. So, of course, you came home and shot yourself. The fine detectives will find your body, read your note. They can dot the i’s and cross the t’s. Then I’ll take Ree away from all this sadness to a whole new life in Georgia. Don’t worry I’ll do right by her.”
Jason heard a sharp hiss of indrawn breath from the closet. He took a step closer to the doorway, trying to keep Max’s focus on him.
“I see.