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Chapters (61)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. Epilogue
  57. Epilogue
  58. Acknowledgments
  59. About the Author
  60. Also by Catherine Coulter
  61. About the Publisher

Kelly leaned down and opened a small box on the floor beside her. She pulled out a labeled clear plastic bag with a Walther PPK inside it and held it up. “You really shouldn’t have kept the murder weapon in your locker at Curly’s gun range, Ms. Storin. I know you never imagined we’d find out about your identity in Washington, and even if we did, we’d have no reason to think you were an expert markswoman.” Kelly leaned toward Storin, and smiled. “It appears we’re not as incompetent as you seem to think.”

“Agent Giusti—” Clooney began.

Kelly shook her head at Clooney, continued in a rapid-fire voice. “It was your arrogance in keeping it there that brought you down. You should have tossed the gun in the river, where you doubtless tossed the jewelry and the wallets you took from the Madison house.”

After a beat of dead silence, Sherlock said, “Tell us, were you Angela Storin or Misty Lee when you killed your two ex-husbands?”

Storin stared at Sherlock, slowly shook her head. “I have nothing more to say.” She paused, a rictus of a smile on her pale mouth. “You are all so common.”

Kelly rose, looked down at her. “I’m arresting you for the murders of Mrs. Ellen Madison, Dr. Douglas Madison, and Mr. Stanley La Shea.” And Kelly read Storin her rights.

Clooney slowly rose, placed his hand on Storin’s shoulder. “I wish to speak to my client.”

As she was leaving the conference room, Sherlock looked back to see Angela Storin staring after her. Sherlock was relieved the Walther wasn’t loaded, or Storin might have tried for it.

38

Mia

Alex Harrington Campaign Headquarters

Forty-Ninth at Sixth Avenue

Thursday afternoon

Mia walked through the controlled chaos of Alex Harrington’s campaign headquarters for the second time in three days, but it seemed much longer. So many people’s voices clashing, sending the noise level to record levels. And everyone was moving, carrying pizza boxes, piles of bumper stickers, laptops, posters of Alex Harrington’s face.

She gave little waves to people she’d seen on her first visit, and they smiled, nodded to her. Evidently she belonged or, more likely, everyone had been told she was a reporter and to be nice. She spotted Miles Lombardy in what seemed very serious conversation with Cory Hughes, Harrington’s campaign manager. She wondered briefly if Miles had been part of the ambush last night, if he’d known what would happen when she left the bar. She prayed he’d been Alex’s dupe for the simple reason she liked him. He didn’t come over or acknowledge anything might be wrong.

Mia hurried past them, nodded and smiled to Mrs. Millicent seated at her post, guarding the candidate.