Cully said, “There’s only two of them. You think they’d split up—one watching the back and one watching the front?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Savich said.

Sherlock said, “Agreed. Now, what are we going to do?”

Savich pulled out his cell. “I’m going to call in the cavalry.”

62

PEAS RIDGE, GEORGIA

They were walked back to the meeting hall, Kjell’s gun shoved against Ethan’s back.

The door slid silently open.

“Go in, Sheriff, Mrs. Backman.”

At the last instant, Kjell tried to grab Autumn, but she jumped out of the way. She ran behind Ethan.

Kjell stood there, obviously uncertain what to do. Then he called over his shoulder, “Keeper, I need your assistance.”

Blessed came into the room behind him. He looked haggard, his eyes red from weeping.

“Stymie them, Keeper.”

“No!” Autumn jerked away and faced Blessed, her arms out, trying to cover both her mother and Ethan. “No, no, Blessed, don’t you dare stymie them!”

Blessed grabbed her and lifted her into his arms. “Be quiet, Autumn. You will be quiet.”

Autumn sank her teeth into Blessed’s arm.

Kjell said when Blessed moaned, “Give her to her mother before she chews your arm off.”

Blessed lowered a flailing Autumn to the floor. She ran to her mother, wrapped her arms around Joanna’s waist, and pressed her face into her stomach. She was crying huge, deep sobs that sounded—fake.

Kjell crossed his arms over his chest and merely looked at each of them in turn, but his focus, his real interest, was Autumn. Blessed pressed his fingers to his arm where she’d bitten him. There was blood on his fingers. He looked at them, his eyes angry. He was panting. “No more of this. It’s time.”

Autumn screamed, “No!” She ran at Blessed, hitting his stomach with her fists. Blessed grabbed her wrists and stared down at her, and then something very strange happened.

Blessed didn’t talk, didn’t seem to be able to move.

Suddenly, his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.

Kjell was at Blessed’s side in an instant. He dropped to his knees and shook him. “Keeper! Wake up!” He reached out to grab Autumn. “What did you do to him? What?”

Kjell realized the danger too late. He leaped to his feet, brought up his gun, but Ethan was on him. He kicked the gun from his hand.

Ethan had wondered if Kjell was trained to fight, and he was. But Ethan had learned karate and some of the dirtiest street fighting on the planet—in the Philippines. He’d gotten himself stomped before he learned being vicious could be the only way to stay alive. He went after Kjell with everything he knew, with all the rage he felt. Joanna pulled Autumn to her, her hand over her eyes so she couldn’t see the violence, but she knew Autumn heard the slamming of fists against flesh, the grunts, the brief silences, which were worse, and knew the instant Ethan broke Kjell’s nose and his glasses. Blood flew out to streak down the white wall behind him.

She watched Kjell, blood pouring down his face, land a kick in Ethan’s kidney, watched him stumble back and fall, then roll back onto his feet. He went at Kjell furiously, his fist to his jaw, a kick to his belly, his other fist hard into his broken nose. Kjell, utterly silent to this point, fell back and moaned.

Joanna’s heart nearly stopped when Kjell jumped at Ethan, dragged him down to the white floor. They rolled over and over, grunting, hitting each other in the head, each trying to gain leverage.

And then it was over. Ethan, on top, reared back and sent the heel of his hand into Kjell’s broken nose, sending droplets of his blood flying. Kjell didn’t make a sound. His eyes rolled back and he went limp. Ethan shook his hand, rubbed his bloody knuckles.

Joanna’s mouth was so dry she couldn’t find the spit to speak. Finally she whispered, “Is he dead?”

“Yes.” Ethan got slowly to his feet and stared down at the young man. What had Caldicot Whistler promised him if Kjell obeyed him? Great wealth? Power? Had Kjell killed the people Autumn had seen the Backmans burying? Now nothing mattered to him. He was dead. Ethan picked up Kjell’s gun and put it in his belt.

Blessed moaned and sat up. He clapped his hands to his head and began to weave back and forth. He looked at Ethan, then at Joanna, looked hard, but he didn’t look at Autumn. He clutched his forehead in his hands and whispered, “This cannot be, it cannot,” and he fell onto his side again and began crying.

Ethan said, “Autumn, what did you do to Blessed?”