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Back We Were Killers Once Save as PDF
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

I felt my wheels lose traction but didn’t panic. Rather than trying to apply the brakes—a dangerous move that could have made me skid off the edge of the cliff—I concentrated all my attention on keeping the car on one side of the road or the other, preferably close to the wall of rock. But the car was thrust forward and I barely made it around a sharp curve going twice as fast as the probable speed limit on a sign I couldn’t see. I felt my wheels skid over the narrow dirt shoulder on the left side of the road. Then I felt the wheels grip the macadam again.

Feeling confident that I was past the danger, but still unsettled, I ignored the rule about keeping the lights off after dark and turned on my headlamps, at the same time applying the brakes to stop and let my gut simmer down after a close call.

The brakes didn’t engage.

Twenty–six

Seven days had gone by between the time Beaufort decided that the Quinn woman needed to be eliminated, and now. Enough time for Yanchak to locate a guy in Arizona who was willing to do the job, and enough time for Beaufort to case a couple of homes he thought were likely candidates for him to hit. It was simple, just discover the pattern of the inhabitants, when they were in and when they were out. Watch what couples left for work in the morning and hit there. The first house, in the development east of the one where the DiForenzas lived, he’d done three days ago. The second one, by the Lago del Oro Parkway, he’d done yesterday. It was secluded, up one of those steep driveways where you practically needed four-wheel drive just to visit. Surrounded with nothing but hills and arroyos, wild saguaros, prickly pear cactus, and chollas, no one would see his car if he stayed up there all day. And no one to see while he took his time with the lock on the door leading from the back porch. No security. Lovely view. It took him less than an hour.

Today he got to the third house as dusk was descending. Right on time.

Just to be on the safe side, in case their paths should cross, Beaufort had taken Gloria’s car that morning with the promise of getting the oil changed, and he had kept his promise. The car was one of those lime green Volkswagens that must have been popular in another decade. Now you didn’t see so many of them. It was a sign of Gloria’s clinging to the edges of middle class that she hadn’t traded hers in. Beaufort thought it was a little noticeable, but it was better than someone tracking his own license plate.