Read Online The Circle of Eight by J Robert Kennedy - Free Book Online

the
woodwork. And a leaking roof. The thing that had finally told her the Jag
people hadn’t a clue was when they said all convertible roofs leaked in car
washes. She had screamed at them. “This is our fourth convertible, and it’s the
only one to have ever leaked! And you’re telling me that’s normal?”
    George
had had to lead her out of the dealership before she started throwing things.
    “Argh! That stupid car! ”
    She
opened the fridge and pulled out the casserole she had prepared the night
before during a few minutes of lucidity.
    “Sis,
it’s me, Burt. You there? Pick up if you are, it’s important.”
    Sylvia
paused. Burt? He never calls during the day. Her thoughts immediately
went to her mom and dad. Something’s happened!
    “Okay,
well, as soon as you get this message, I want you to take George and Jenny to
the nearest police station, okay. Don’t stop to pack, just go. Once you’re
there, call me and let me know where you are. This is urgent, Sis, it’s
important. Please don’t ignore it. Love you.”
    The
casserole was forgotten in her hand. Sylvia simply stood, frozen, as she
repeated the message in her head. Her brother wasn’t a practical joker, not in
his business. She knew he was army, in logistics, but with the amount of times
she had called him where he wasn’t home for extended periods, and the fact he
was stationed at Fort Bragg, she had put two and two together years ago.
    He was
Delta Force.
    She had
confronted him on it once and he had denied it.
    “I
wish!” was his response.
    Yeah,
right!
    She knew
from the look he had given her when she pushed him that she was right, and when
she mentioned it to her husband that night, he had told her to back off.
    “The less
we know the better. It’s for his protection, and ours.”
    She put
the casserole down on the counter, left the kitchen and went into George’s
study. She pulled a hinged painting from the wall, keyed in the security code
of the safe, and removed a Glock 22 then loaded a clip, stuffing
another in her pocket.
    Her
hands shaking, she headed for the stairs, for the first time noticing that Jenny
wasn’t making any noise, which was rare for her.
    Please,
Lord, let her be okay. Please let this be Burt just being paranoid.
    But she
knew the truth. Burt had never called her with something like this
during his entire career, never even said a word about being careful. This was
an out-and-out warning, and as she climbed each step, wincing with each creak
of the wood, the gun grasped in front of her, ready to blow away anything that
came around the corner, she realized she had to calm down. Her heart was
slamming so hard and so fast that she couldn’t keep her hands steady, and could
barely focus.
    And if Jenny
were to come around the corner, she’d blow her away by accident, she was so
wired.
    She
dropped her hands, the gun now at her side, slightly behind her in the hopes
her brain would have the time to recognize her daughter before she could raise
the weapon to shoot.
    The
final step.
    She
looked to her right, down the hallway toward Jenny’s room but saw nothing. Her
door was closed, which was unusual. The rule was the door stayed open. She
heard a whimper to her left and spun.
    Then
nearly vomited.
    A man in
a black suit was standing in the hallway, Jenny beside him, her face red, tears
streaking her cheeks, the man’s hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her back
as she tried to run to her mother.
    “Mrs.
Dawson. Let me tell you why I’m here. Your brother—”
    She
didn’t care. She raised the weapon, single handed, took a quick bead on his
chest, the laser sighting making it dead easy as the red dot bounced on the
man’s crisp white shirt, her hands still shaking.
    She
didn’t see his eyes bulge as she squeezed the trigger twice. He fell backward,
two fresh red stains rapidly expanding from his chest as he hit the floor, his
hand letting go of Jenny, the little girl racing toward her mother the moment
the hand