Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

even the slightest inkling you’ve been a bad boy, everybody dies—no discussion, no negotiations, end of story, end of family. You got that?”
    “Understood. I’m alone.”
    I pulled off State Highway 220 into the Park Meadows subdivision, and quickly pulled to the curb, unlocked the glove box, and removed a holstered .25-caliber Colt pistol. It was an old gun I’d purchased years before from a retiring parole officer. It was an ideal weapon for undercover work, something I’d never had the occasion to do. It hadn’t been used much in the years I’d owned it.
    I strapped the holster to my right ankle and drove the remaining few blocks home. As an experienced corrections officer, the chance of Stimson missing the weapon was unlikely, but when she found my department-issued .38-caliber snub-nose attached to my belt, she might get careless and miss the back-up weapon. I could only hope.
    I pulled into the driveway and noticed all the wood blinds on the front-facing windows had been closed. I spotted Stimson’s Ford Explorer parked outside the cul-de-sac on Motherlode Drive. As instructed, I parked in the driveway, got out, and walked slowly toward the front door with my empty hands in view at all times. I assumed she was watching my every move. I opened the screen door, tapped lightly on the front door, and then reached for the knob. The door was locked. I waited for what seemed an eternity before I heard the front door unlatch.
    As I stepped into the darkened living room, to my horror, I saw Sara and Aunt June huddled together on the couch, hands cuffed behind them, and each wearing a loose-fitting cloth hood over her head. Carol stood several feet away with her handgun leveled at my chest.
    “Assume the position, asshole,” she said.
    She didn’t need to explain that command. I placed my hands against the front door, spread my legs, and leaned into the door with my upper body, while my legs and feet were splayed out behind. She patted me down and immediately found the service revolver on my hip. I expected that. She completed the frisk and discovered the ankle holster as well.
    “You really didn’t think I’d miss the back-up, did you? Stand up, face me, and drop your pants.”
    I complied.
    “The underwear too.”
    Satisfied that I hadn’t hidden another weapon in my underwear, she allowed me to pull up my pants. She ordered me into a straight-back dining-room chair she had moved into the living room, and quickly applied the plastic handcuffs. She took the roll of duct tape and ran it several times across my chest and around the chair until satisfied that I was well secured.
    She then stepped in front of me, and without a word, delivered a stinging backhand blow to the side of my face. The blow shocked me more than it hurt, although a ring she wore opened a small cut above my right eye. It bled freely.
    “That was to get your attention,” she said, smiling, and in an almost cheery tone of voice. “Now we can have a short visit before I do what I really came here to do.”
    I’m no shrink, but Stimson’s mood seemed to change from doom and gloom to one of euphoria in a manner of seconds. Her upbeat, almost friendly demeanor seemed a mere pretense for a much darker side of her personality. I decided to try to keep her talking and stall for time. I didn’t know what else to do. It was going to be a bad afternoon, and one, I fully realized, that neither my family nor I would likely survive.

Chapter Forty-seven
    Wheeler had provided Kate with an address and detailed directions to Sam’s home. She was driving at breakneck speed to Park City, hoping her hunch about Stimson was wrong and that Sam had rushed home to some other kind of problem. All of her instincts, however, told her otherwise. She was genuinely worried, not only about Sam, but his family as well. Her feelings for him had grown beyond those of a mere colleague—they were personal now. She would do whatever was necessary to keep him alive.
    The plan that had taken shape in her head was fraught with potential problems, not the least of which was her unfamiliarity with Sam’s neighborhood and home. She had never been there. She first had to locate the house. That accomplished, could she approach without being seen? How would she get inside undetected? If a shoot-out ensued, who might end up in the line of fire? In situations like this, proper police procedure called for unobtrusively evacuating the occupants of surrounding homes. Sam