Twice Dead - Catherine Coulter [31]
“I don’t know how you found me,” she said, still panting. “I did everything I could think of to hide my trail. How did you track me down?”
“It did take me two and a half days to track you to Portland, actually longer than I’d expected.”
She twisted her head to look at him. “Let me go.”
“Not yet. I want to hang on to my body parts. Hey, you didn’t do too badly for an amateur.”
“Let me go.”
“Will you stop with the violence? I can’t stand violence. It makes me nervous.”
Her look was incredulous as she chewed her bottom lip. Finally, she nodded. “All right.”
He let her go and took a quick step back, his eyes on her right knee.
She was off and running in a flash. This time, he let her go. She was fast, but he knew that from her dossier. She’d spotted him watching her house. It amazed him. He was always so very careful, so patient, as still as one of the spruce trees. In the past, his life had depended on it more times than he cared to remember. But she’d cottoned on to the fact that someone was out there, with her in his sights.
Well, the stalker had been after her for more than three weeks in New York. That had sharpened her senses, kept her alert. There was no doubt she was afraid, but it hadn’t mattered. She’d come out and confronted him anyway. He whistled as he walked over and bent down to pick up her Coonan automatic. It was a nice gun. It had a closed breech that gave it very high velocity. His brother had one of these babies, was always bragging about it. It was steady, reliable, deadly, and not all that common. He wondered how she handled the recoil. He dumped the seven rimmed cartridges into his hand, then dropped them into his pocket. He paused a moment, wondering if he shouldn’t leave the gun in her mailbox or slip it just inside her front door.
He imagined she wouldn’t feel safe without it.
He saw Tyler McBride and his son leave about ten minutes later. He saw her wave from the front porch. He saw her looking over toward where he quietly stood, surely not visible through the trees. She went back into the house after Tyler McBride and his son drove off. He waited.
Not three minutes later she was back, standing on the front porch, looking toward him. He saw her thinking, weighing, assessing. Finally, she trotted toward him.
She had guts.
He didn’t move, just waited, watching her. He realized when she was only about ten feet from him that she had a big kitchen butcher knife clutched in her hand.
He smiled. She was her father’s daughter.
NINE
Slowly, he pulled her gun out of his pants pocket and aimed it in her general direction. “Even that big honker knife can’t compete with this Coonan you managed to get off that guy you met at the restaurant in Rockland. He was, however, pissed that you wouldn’t go to bed with him.” He grinned at her. “Hey, you got what you needed. You did good.”
“How did you know about that? Oh, never mind. My knife can certainly compete with the Coonan now. I watched you take the bullets out.”
He grinned at her again, he couldn’t help it, and held the automatic out to her, butt first.
“What good is it? You’ve got the bullets. Give them to me now.”
He scooped the seven bullets out of his pocket and handed them and the automatic to her.
She eyed the gun and the bullets, then backed up another step. “No, you want me to come a bit closer and then you can kick my knife away. You’re fast, too fast. I’m not stupid.”
“All right,” Adam said, and he thought, Smart woman. He laid the bullets and the gun down on