Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

me, drops the Maglite to the ground with the beam on me. Then is hand is on my bicep, forcing me onto my stomach.
    I keep my head raised, maintain eye contact. He’s still holding my .38, the muzzle leveled at my face. “What are you going to do?” I ask.
    “I’m going to fix this situation we’ve found ourselves in.” He pulls a scrap of fabric or scarf from the waistband of his slacks. “Put your hands behind your back for me.”
    I try to get my hands under me to rise, but he sets the muzzle of the .38 against my back and pushes me back down. “I will kill you where you lie if you don’t do as I say,” he snarls. “Am I clear?”
    When I don’t obey, he reaches for my left wrist. There’s no way I can allow him to tie me up. He’s already killed three people. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll do it again to cover his tracks. I twist, make a grab for the .38. My fingers close around his hand, but he yanks it away. I bring up my knees, get them beneath me. I ram his midsection with my shoulder. He reels backward. I reach for the gun with my right hand. I know he’s going to hit me with the Maglite an instant before it slams down on my forearm. Pain zings up my arm with such intensity that I cry out. He swings again. I try to get out of the way, but I’m not fast enough and the blow glances off my collarbone.
    His hand snakes out, clamps around the back of my neck. Grunting with effort, he shoves my face to the ground, grinds my cheek into the dirt. “Bitch.”
    I try to twist around, lash out at him with my feet, but he’s stronger than me and I only manage to graze his thigh with my heel. He climbs on top of me and yanks my hands behind my back. I feel something soft being wrapped around my wrists and drawn tight.
    He gives the tether a final yank and then slides off me. “There. That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Rising, he brushes at his slacks. “Get up.”
    I spit dirt from my mouth. As inconspicuously as possible, I test the binds at my wrists, but they’re tight enough to cut off my circulation. When I raise my gaze to his, I find the .38 pointed at my chest. He holds the Maglite in his left hand. I glance around for my radio and cell but he shines the beam in my eyes, blinding me. “Get up. I won’t ask nicely again.”
    I get my knees under me and struggle to my feet. “What are you going to do?”
    “We’re going to go inside and figure this out.” He motions with the gun toward a side door. “Walk.”
    Up until this point, I’d been operating under the assumption that I could talk my way out of this. That at some point, rationality would intervene and he’d give himself up. Or maybe make a mistake that would cost him the upper hand. Looking at him now, I realize I’d underestimated him.
    I start toward the door. “Let me go, and I’ll do what I can to keep you out of prison.”
    “What? You’ll put in a good word for me? Tell them I’m a good boy who’s been misunderstood?” He laughs, but his expression falls abruptly. “Go through that door or I will drag you.”
    Pain thrums in my arm where he hit me with the Maglite earlier. I don’t let it keep me from working at the binds on my wrists. I take small steps, keenly aware of Armitage behind me. My mind scrambles for a resolution to this that won’t get me killed. Spin and kick the weapon from his hand? Break away from him and run?
    I reach the door. He steps around me and pushes it open. I step into the night. “Is that your truck?” I ask. “Are you involved with what happened to Paul and the children?”
    He doesn’t respond. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. In the glow of the flashlight, I discern the blankness of his expression. It’s as if he’s gone someplace inside himself. A place where he’s no longer hindered by fear or conscience. A dangerous place I can’t reach.
    We cross the lot and enter the house via the deck. He opens the French door and then we’re in his office. I stop, thinking we’ve reached our destination, but he sets his hand between my shoulder blades and shoves me toward the hall. “Keep going.”
    I start toward the reception area. In the back of my mind I wonder if my dispatcher has tried to raise me on the radio after my abrupt disconnect earlier. I wonder if she became concerned when I didn’t respond. I wonder if she notified T.J. and he’s out looking for me. That’s a best-case scenario, because no one in my department knows I’m here. I parked