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With her thumb, she eased the hammer down. She lowered her arm. 'Let's have a look around,' she said, and nodded toward the dining room. |
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Trev went first. He glanced back at the girl on the sofa. |
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Get back to you, he thought. |
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Just need to wait for Sandy to use that last bullet. |
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Nobody in the dining room. |
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He headed for the kitchen, and suddenly grinned. There was no need to wait for Sandy to use the last bullet. The fool had cocked the revolver and let the hammer down on its only live round. She'd have to go through five spent shells before the cylinder would bring the good cartridge back into firing position. |
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Should be a knife in the kitchen, he thought. A good sharp knife would come in handy. |
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He entered the kitchen. The faucet was running. On the floor in front of the sink was a shattered plate. A woman sat at the table, arms folded beneath her face. |
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The mother, Trev thought. |
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She wore white jeans and a green blouse. The hair draping her face was glossy brown with red highlights. The look of it stirred something deep inside Trev. |
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Can't be her natural color, he thought. |
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He frowned at the thick auburn tresses. |
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Hair just like Maureen's, he realized. |
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