Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,46

lot yet.

“Do I know you?” he asked, not making any effort to be cordial anymore. He leaned toward her across the bar. “Who are you?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” she said, and reached under her hoodie to retrieve her badge. She stood up facing him and said, “Detective Katie Scott from the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department.”

Keller slowly stood up straight. For a moment Katie thought he was going to run, but she watched his hands in case he reached for some type of weapon.

“I have a few questions for you,” she said, putting her badge away.

Keller began to laugh—maniacal, over-exaggerated. It was obviously for the patrons’ benefit, to show that he was in control of the situation.

“What? Did I not make myself clear?” she said. “I would suggest that we speak in your office unless you want your customers to hear what I have to say. It isn’t pretty.”

“Okay, I thought it was cute at first, but now, you had just better walk on out of here—cop.”

“Not likely.”

Katie heard a couple of chairs scrape back from the table to her left.

“Listen, sweetheart, turn your nice little ass around and walk out of here.”

“You are Hugh Keller, right?” she pushed.

“Whatever you want to know is just too bad. Walk away.”

Katie smiled and almost laughed. She had been trained by some amazing army instructors in boot camp. They had been extra hard on her because she was a woman, but she learned quickly how to defend herself under many different conditions. She wasn’t intimidated.

“I’m not leaving until you answer a few questions.”

“You’re done here,” he said, and came around the bar.

“You can either answer a couple of questions here—or, my personal favorite would be to go to the sheriff’s department and answer the same questions in my house.”

Keller pushed up his sleeves and motioned to his two patrons to sit down. Katie didn’t move from her position.

“Here or there? Your choice.”

“The department must sure be proud of you.”

“You’ll have to ask them.”

“Wait a minute. You said your name is Detective Scott?”

“Did I stutter?” She knew that she was walking a fine line, but she wanted him to react so that she could have him held in jail for a few days—it would soften him up to answer her questions about the Elm Hill Mansion and Candace Harlan. He was playing directly into her hands.

“You’re not related to Sheriff Scott, are you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“He doesn’t have any kids.”

“No.”

“But he had a niece, I think, that was in the army or something. Is that you?”

“That’s me. Now, are you going to answer my questions here or at the department? It’s a simple question.”

Keller laughed. “What, you think that you can’t be touched because you’re related to the sheriff? No one in here will say anything. You’re way out of your league, sweetheart.”

He stepped forward as Katie took two steps to the side. She anticipated his move and kept eye contact.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

He lunged for her just as she gave him an uppercut punch to the stomach. It wasn’t full force, but hurt him nonetheless. Keller doubled over, gasping for breath—the wind had been temporarily knocked out of him. She listened to him wheeze for about a minute. Katie didn’t want to pull her weapon until absolutely necessary, but he wasn’t going quietly.

Keller regained his composure and when he looked at her he was seething with rage.

Katie blinked but kept her eye on him—readying herself to pull her weapon to keep things under control until backup arrived.

Before she could outmaneuver Keller again, taking away her full concentration of the room, one of the wooden chairs sailed across the bar and struck Katie’s lower back. Her body slammed down onto the floor and she lay there, staring upward at Keller approaching fast. Not taking the time to acknowledge the shooting pain she felt down her back and legs, she rolled twice to get out of Keller’s reach, but ending up looking up at a large man with an extremely long beard gazing down at her.

If there ever was a time to use her combat fighting skills—it was now.

Katie concentrated on her breathing and being in the moment, which slowed everything down around her—the voices, the movement, the background sounds. At least that was what it appeared to do for her. It was a technique that she had learned from one of the people who trained her to work harder, faster, and stronger