Sight Unseen(111)

She froze, holding her breath.

He’d stopped somewhere behind her, she realized. Waiting for her to make another move, to reveal her position.

Waiting for her to do something stupid.

A full minute passed. Then another.

A brisk wind kicked up, rustling the trees and giving her an opportunity to move down the hillside undetected.

But also offering him an opportunity to sneak toward her.

She crept farther down the hill, using the shadows as a cloak against the stark moonlight.

There was a clearing ahead. No good. She’d be a sitting duck out there, even more limited in this direction. She was at the quarry’s rim, some forty feet above its granite bottom. There was water, but she had no way of knowing if it was twenty feet deep or ten inches.

An indefensible position if ever there was one.

She looked back up the slope.

Was he still waiting for her?

She slowly, quietly made her way back, timing her movements to the gusts of wind.

“Kendra!”

Pounding footsteps. Crunching brush.

Coming her way.

She broke into a run.

But something caught her ankles and sent her flying. She hit the ground hard.

She rolled over and saw what had tripped her.

A length of rope, twenty feet or more, had been pulled taut between the trees.

Chatsworth’s rope. It had to be Chatsworth’s rope.

She jumped to her feet, but in that same moment, another rope snapped over her neck.

She couldn’t breathe.

Chatsworth whispered in her ear. “You can’t ruin my symphony, love. I’ve worked too hard.” He applied even more pressure.

She felt her eyes bulge and her tongue swell as he choked the life from her. She could see their shadows in a death dance on the forest floor. Then her vision clouded, but she could see the shadow of the blade still sticking from his back …

Not deep enough. Not deep enough.

She bared her teeth, and with every ounce of energy left, hurled herself backward. They both tumbled to the ground.

The ground met the blade and drove it deep into Chatworth’s back.

He grunted, and his grip loosened.

Kendra rolled away and jumped to her feet. She stood over him, her breath coming in gasps. She watched as blood bubbled from his wounds. He writhed in agony as the carved blade protruded from his chest. “Take it … out.”

“No way. That blade is a gift from Stevie Wallach’s father. It was meant for your hero, Colby, but you’ll do as well. It’s incredibly thin and weighs only a few ounces. I guess it was easy to miss with a quick frisk.” She added fiercely, “Or maybe I had a little help from Stevie. What do you think?”

Chatsworth’s eyes were wide, glittering, and full of hatred as he gazed up at her. “You bitch. Do you still think you’ve won? I’m too smart for you. We’re too smart for you. This is only the first battle.”

“You’re a dead man, Chatsworth.” She stared coldly down at him. “There will be no other battles. Smart? You’re just a two-bit killer who decided to ride the coattails of a scumbag who was only a little more intelligent than you. He used you to amuse himself during those last months of his life. He pulled your strings, and you jumped.”

“No!” His cheeks were flushed. “You don’t know anything. I was important to him. We were like brothers. He said that I was his eyes, his hands, his sword.” He coughed, and a thin rivulet of blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. “I gave him everything he asked of me. Well, almost. He kept talking about you and the gully. Always … the gully. It wasn’t my fault that I couldn’t give him you. But that’s okay, sometimes I thought he didn’t really … want me to be the one to deal with you anyway. Moriarty. He called himself … your … Moriarty.”

“Sherlock’s greatest enemy? That’s ridiculous. He flattered both himself and our relationship. I’m no Sherlock, and he certainly didn’t have the brains of a Moriarty. He was only a butcher who ended up on that execution table at San Quentin.” She added fiercely, “As for you, you’d have ended up the same way if you hadn’t decided to give Colby one last gift. You shouldn’t have come after the people I love, and you shouldn’t have come after me, Chatsworth.”

“Almost … made it.” His eyes were closing. “Do you think I’m afraid? I’m not afraid. Colby said that we’re above fear. The two of us are … different. I’ll get … over this. Just like him.”

“You can’t get over death. You’re dying, Chatsworth.”

“No, you’re wrong. You think you’re so smart, but you’re wrong about me … wrong about … Colby.”