Soft Targets by John Gilstrap

Author:John Gilstrap [Gilstrap, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp.
Published: 2013-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

“Do you know what time it is?” Amanda Whitney said. She held the door open just a couple of inches. Still an FBI agent, at least for the time being, she had to show a modicum of deference to her boss, but that didn’t mean she had to let her invade her house at zero dark early.

Irene noted the angle of Amanda’s body relative to the door, the way she was pitched nearly sideways, making a point of showing only half of her body. “Are you shielding a firearm?” she asked. Her right hand wanted to rise to her SIG, but she felt that that was uncalled for. Due to the nature of this visit, Jonathan and Boxers waited in a car a block away, where they could provide precious little assistance if she needed it.

“I have a right,” Amanda said. “This is my home, and it’s late.”

“Yes on both counts,” Irene agreed. “Do you think I’m an enemy?”

Amanda’s eyes darted, and she leaned out to look both directions down the street. At least partially satisfied with what she saw, she withdrew into the foyer and ushered her guest inside. As Irene stepped across the threshold, she cast a glance toward the weapon in her hostess’s hand. She was shocked to see an entirely nonregulation stainless-steel Desert Eagle .44 Magnum.

“Were you expecting to repel an invasion of elephants?” Irene asked, nodding toward the cannon that some would call a pistol.

“Why are you here?” Amanda asked.

“Why are you so frightened?”

“You first. You came here, remember?” She closed the door and turned the dead bolt.

Irene’s eyes narrowed as she played a bluff. “Have you called the police yet?”

Amanda’s face showed just enough recognition to assure Irene that she’d hit the nerve she was going for. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do.” Irene let the words hang in the air.

Amanda held the Desert Eagle higher. The hammer was cocked and the safety was off. “I haven’t called anyone,” she said. “What do you know of it?”

“What did Tony tell you?”

Amanda’s features started to dissolve and she sat on the bottom step. “How did you even know? Is he dead?”

The question startled Irene. “Excuse me?”

Amanda seemed startled, too. Or, at the very least, confused. “You’re alive,” she said. “I figured that would mean that he was dead.”

“Is that what he said?”

Amanda cocked her head. “Are we even talking about the same thing?”

Irene looked around. The house was small, maybe seven hundred fifty square feet total on the ground floor. It seemed solid enough, and the way Amanda guarded the base of the stairs, she was certain that the kids were sleeping on the second level. Irene pointed toward the tiny darkened living room to the right of the foyer. “It’s been a long night,” she said. “May we sit down on real chairs?”

Amanda shot a worried glance up the stairs.

“You’ve got a blunderbuss and I’m a very good shot,” Irene coaxed. “”I think they’ll be okay.”

Amanda offered a wan smile.

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