Page 56
Breathing hard, Ronan asked, “I heard gunshots. What did he do?”
The squeal of tires announced another arrival. Chief Deputy Collins climbed out of his cruiser.
“I need an evidence kit,” Felicity called out before looking at Ronan. “Held his family hostage.”
Ronan cursed.
Lance muttered something under his breath about police interfering in private family business.
“Shut up. You’re done,” Felicity growled.
Collins returned, evidence kit in hand.
“Elaine? Kids?” she asked.
“Flesh wound. Unharmed.”
Relief swarmed her. For a moment. Unfortunately, today’s incident would haunt those poor kids for the rest of their lives.
“You take him,” Felicity said firmly. “I’ll secure the weapon.”
Collins gave a curt nod and yanked Lance to his feet, marching him toward the car, the man muttering under his breath about how “they made him do it.”
Ronan stayed, close enough that she caught the faint shadow of his boots in her peripheral vision, the weight of his attention settling between her shoulder blades. She wanted to be annoyed with him — all her effort to avoid him, and he’d literally stepped into her path — but she was grateful Whittaker was in cuffs.
Felicity snapped on a pair of gloves and crouched over the matte-black Glock 17. She removed the magazine, racked the slide to eject the chambered round, and confirmed the weapon was clear before securing the pistol in a cardboard firearm box. The magazine and loose round were bagged separately, tagged, and placed into the evidence kit, which she sealed before rising to her feet.
She resisted the urge to glance back at Ronan. She didn’t need to — she could still feel him there, silent, steady, and too close for comfort. “Thanks for the assist,” she muttered, brushing past him.
“Anytime, Deputy,” came Ronan’s dry reply.
Keenly aware of his eyes on her, she strode across the lawn, reminding herself that Whittaker was in custody. This time, the state wouldn’t have to rely on a reluctant wife’s testimony. He’d face a stack of charges, and Felicity doubted he’d see the outside of a prison fence for a long while.
Brianna and Tobie manned the Whitaker gate, waving away the cluster of neighbors, gawkers, and the inevitable couple of people filming with their phones. Where did they all come from? Ten minutes ago, this street was empty.
She moved up the pathway, boots thudding on the porch boards, and pushed through the front door. “Sheriff?”
“In here,” Beau called back, low and steady.
The living room smelled of gunpowder and fear. Elaine Whittaker sat slumped in an armchair, her face pale, one hand clamped over a bleeding arm. Beau knelt beside her, pressing a wad of gauze against the wound while murmuring something she couldn’t catch.
On the couch, Sue held her brother close, his small shoulders trembling with soft, muffled sobs that scraped raw at Felicity’s nerves. She took a breath and spoke gently but clearly, “Lance Whittaker is in custody.”
Elaine gasped, her face paling even further. Don’s sobs grew louder, his body wracking as if the words had punched through him. Sue’s mouth pressed into a firm, hard line — the mask of control slipping just for a fraction of a second before she swallowed hard and tightened her grip on Don.
Before Felicity could say more, the sharp wail of sirens pierced the tense air. Emergency medical services had arrived.
Beau moved to her. “Kids aren’t talking,” he said quietly. “Maybe you can try?”
Felicity nodded and crossed the room with measured steps, crouching beside the kids. “Come on, let’s get you to the kitchen,” she said softly. “EMS needs to take care of your mom. She’s safe now.”
Don sniffled, wiping his nose against his sleeve, and Sue nodded once, her eyes dark but alert. As she helped the children to their feet, Felicity glanced back at Elaine, who met her eyes with a fragile, grateful look. She only scowled in return. The woman dropped her gaze, red flushing her face. Good, she got the message.
And then the guilt set in. You’re a fine one to judge the woman.
Entering the kitchen, she shoved aside the self-recrimination, found clean glasses, filled them with water from the tap, and set them in front of the kids at the table.
Felicity pulled a chair closer, the legs scraping quietly across the linoleum, leaning in just enough so Sue would know she was there. She kept her voice low and calm. “It’s over now. Your father will never hurt either of you or your mom again.”
