harder, digging into Lombard’s skin. “Give me an excuse to pull this trigger. I want to do it so badly I can taste it.”
“I want a deal,” Lombard blurted out through clenched teeth.
Jack nodded. “I believe you actually mean that this time.” He pressed the gun to Lombard’s forehead. “Here’s the deal: tell me what I want to know, and I won’t have to tell the medical examiner that I shot you between the eyes in self-defense.”
Lombard swallowed hard. He said nothing at first, but Jack saw it in his eyes.
Defeat.
Lombard sagged against the floor and finally gave Jack the answer he’d been waiting for.
“Silas Briggs.”
LESS THAN TEN minutes after Jack called for backup, the house was teaming with people—some in uniforms, some not. He told the paramedics what had happened to Lombard, then spoke briefly to both Wilkins and the cops.
Jack stood side-by-side with Wilkins, watching as the paramedics placed a neck brace onto a handcuffed Lombard and slid a backboard underneath him. He glanced up at Cameron. She’d been sitting on the steps of the landing ever since the cops and FBI had arrived. He sensed she hadn’t wanted to get too close to Lombard as he lay on the floor at the bottom of the staircase. He hoped she wasn’t trying to avoid him as well.
“I’d like a minute alone with Cameron,” Jack said to Wilkins. “Could you see to that?”
Wilkins nodded. “Of course. I’ll make sure everyone stays down here.”
Jack grabbed a blanket the paramedics had brought in, slipped past Lombard on the stairs, and headed up. He knelt down and wrapped the blanket around Cameron’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “No.”
Jack noticed she was trembling. He helped her to a standing position, then led her up the stairs and into her bedroom. He closed the door behind them, took her by the hand, and sat her down on the bed.
“Say something, Cameron. Anything.”
She sounded distant when she answered. “When he called down from upstairs, I was standing right here by this bed.” She frowned. “I was trying to decide what underwear I was going to wear to bed that night, wondering if you liked black or red better.” Her voice cracked. “Then this strange voice shouted down that he had a gun pointed at your head and that you had three seconds to live.”
Jack knelt at the floor in front of her. “You did so great. Cutting off the power was the smartest thing anyone could’ve done in that situation.”
She wiped her eyes. “Right, I’m such a hero. You dove off a thirty-five-foot staircase. I turned off a light switch.”
“It . . . was a very key light switch.”
She sniffed. Her nose was red and her mascara was smudged underneath her eyes. Jack thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful. When he thought about what could’ve happened . . . how close he’d come to losing her . . .
“You’re doing the serious face again.” Cameron touched his cheek, looking him over with concern. “Are you hurt? You have to be, after that fall.”
“I might’ve broken a few ribs,” Jack said.
“What? We need to get one of the paramedics to check you out. You could have internal bleeding or something.”
“It’s fine. I’ll have someone take a look later, when I’m finished with all this.”
She shook her head. “Not later, Jack. Now. You’re not invincible, you know.”
“Shh . . . I’ve been trying to keep that under wraps for years.”
That finally got a slight smile out of her. Jack got up and sat next to her on the bed.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I didn’t go into my room, you know. I stayed in the upstairs hallway to listen.”
“I figured as much.”
Cameron turned her head to look at him. “Those things you said to Lombard . . . were you bluffing?”
Jack thought about his response to this. He’d said a lot of things to Lombard. But right or wrong, the man she’d heard down there was him. “Does it matter?” he asked her.
She paused for a moment before shaking her head.
“No.”
Twenty-nine
“THERE’S SOMEONE HERE to see you, Cameron.”
Cameron glanced at the clock on her desk computer. It was after two o’clock, which surprised her. She’d been so caught up taking notes on the case files she’d been reading, she’d worked straight through lunch.
“Thanks, Elaine. Does this someone have a name?” She checked her calendar—she didn’t have any appointments written down for that afternoon.
Through the speakerphone, the front desk receptionist’s voice lowered