LuAnn watched in horror as he grabbed Lisa’s chair and dragged it across the room to the window. She got to her feet, flying toward them. She knew exactly what he was going to do, but damn if she was going to let him do it. He was lifting the chair and Lisa with it, and LuAnn dove for it, her hand closing around her daughter’s leg as the chair smashed against the window that overlooked the brick patio almost thirty feet below. LuAnn and Lisa crashed to the floor amid the shattered glass.
Jackson tried to snatch up her gun but LuAnn was one step ahead of him. LuAnn’s leg flew up and caught Jackson, who had strayed a little too close, directly in the crotch. He bent down, groaning. She jumped up and landed a powerful right hand squarely against Jackson’s chin. He went down to the floor.
In the distance they all heard the police sirens coming. Jackson swore under his breath, picked himself up, and, clutching his privates, raced through the doorway.
LuAnn let him go, slamming and locking the door behind him. Screaming and crying in relief, she gently pulled off the tape and undid the ropes holding Lisa. Mother and daughter held each other tightly. LuAnn clutched at Lisa’s body, she pushed her face in Lisa’s hair, her nose drank in every wonderful smell of her little girl. Then LuAnn stood and picked up her gun and fired two shots out the window.
Riggs and Charlie and the FBI agents were engaged in an animated discussion at the entrance to the private road when they heard the shots. Riggs threw the car in gear and roared up the road. The FBI agents ran to their car.
Jackson bolted down the hallway, suddenly stopped, and looked in Sally Beecham’s bedroom. Empty. He spied the gun on the floor and snatched it up. Then he heard the pounding. He raced to the kitchen and unlocked and threw open the pantry door. Roger Crane, squinting and quivering, stumbled out.
“Thank God, Peter. She had a gun. She put me in here. I . . . I did exactly as you told me.”
“Thank you, Roger.” He lifted up the pistol. “Tell Alicia I said hello.” Then he fired point blank into his brother’s face. The next instant he was out the door and racing across the lawn for the woods.
* * *
As they jumped out of their car Riggs saw Jackson first and sprinted after him. Charlie, despite his weakened state, was right behind. When the lawmen pulled up seconds later, they ran to the house.
LuAnn met them on the stairs. “Where are Matthew and Charlie?”
The men looked at each other. “I saw somebody running into the woods,” one of them answered.
They all ran out onto the front lawn. That’s when they heard it, the drone of the helicopter as the blades cut through the rain and wind. It landed on the front lawn. They all saw the FBI insignia on the side. The group raced over; LuAnn and Lisa reached it first.
Several police cars pulled up next to the fountain and a small army of officers poured out.
George Masters climbed out of the helicopter followed by a team of FBI agents. He looked at her. “LuAnn Tyler?” She nodded. Masters looked at Lisa. “Your daughter?”
“Yes,” LuAnn said.
“Thank God.” He let out a deep sigh of relief and held out his hand. “George Masters, FBI. I came into town to interview Charlie Thomas. When I got to the hospital he was gone.”
“We’ve got to go after Jackson, I mean Peter Crane. He went into the woods,” LuAnn said. “Matthew and Charlie went after him. But I want Lisa safe. I can’t leave her without knowing she’ll be completely safe.”
Masters looked between mother and daughter, spitting images of each other. Then he looked at the helicopter.
“We’ll transport her to the FBI office here in Charlottesville in this helicopter. I’ll put her smack in the center of a room with a half dozen heavily armed FBI agents. That good enough?” He smiled weakly.
A grateful look crossed her face. “Yes. Thanks for understanding.”