Black’s gaze met his. “All symptoms the other victims exhibited before they ended their lives.”
Horn nodded, agitation constricting his stomach. Had Thornbird contracted the unnamed disease he’d been investigating?
Guilt nagged at him. He’d gotten the man involved. If Thornbird committed suicide, his death would rest on Craig’s shoulders.
Suddenly the squeal of tires on asphalt jarred the tense silence, the air vibrating with the smell of burned rubber and panic as the car screeched to a stop. Olivia Thornbird jumped out and ran toward him. The sassy, confident air she normally wore had disintegrated since his call, the frantic unease of a terrified daughter flaring in her overly bright eyes instead.
The wind whipped her long blond hair around her face, and she scraped it back with a shaky hand, then reached for the bullhorn. “What did you do to him?”
He ignored her barb, plastered on a steely, cool face. “I’ve been trying to talk to him.”
She glared at him. “He’s been working for you, hasn’t he?”
Craig swallowed hard, debating a lie. “He’s been doing some research, yes.”
“I knew it!” She grabbed the speaker and faced the house. “I have to talk to him.”
Craig covered her hand with his. “I’ve made every attempt to convince him to come out, but he’s incoherent.”
Her gaze locked with his, then her bottom lip quivered slightly as his warning registered. Finally, she swung back toward the window, her bravado tacked in place. “Dad.” Her voice warbled through the speaker. “It’s me, Livvy.”
Craig caught the anxious looks on the other cops’ faces. They’d been down this same road too many times the past few weeks and lost. Hope wasn’t exactly lighting the skies that this time would be any different.
“Dad, please come out, I’m worried about you.”
“I can’t.”
“Dad, please, the police won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“I can’t leave the house.” His voice screeched. “It’s the only place that’s safe.”
Olivia inhaled a deep breath. “Then let me come in and talk to you. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”
The curtains at the front window rustled open, and Craig spotted the old man peer through the broken glass. His wiry graying hair was standing on end, as if he’d run his hands through it a thousand times; his eyes appeared glassy, and his expression disoriented. “Ruth, is that you?”
“No, Dad.” Anguish made her voice brittle. “It’s me, Livvy. Mom’s not here anymore, remember?”
“Livvy?”
“Yes. I’m coming in now. We’ll talk, work out whatever is bothering you.” She stepped forward tentatively.
“Livvy, no, stop! It’s too dangerous! They’re everywhere.”
She took another cautious step. “Who’s everywhere, Dad?”
“The spies,” he cried. “They’re on the lawn, in the house, on the roof. They’ll get you.”
“Dad, nothing’s going to get me. I’m coming in.”
“You don’t understand.” He waved his arm frantically in front of the window. “The government wants it kept quiet. I can’t protect you anymore.”
Olivia dashed forward, shoving away from Craig when he grabbed her arm. “Dad, it’s okay. I’m right here, I’m coming in….”
Thornbird suddenly disappeared behind the wooden frame of the house, and Craig’s instincts kicked in. “Olivia, stop!”
A gunshot pierced the air.
Olivia screamed and vaulted forward, but Craig caught her. He didn’t have to go inside to know Thornbird was dead.
And it was all his fault.
“NOOOO!” OLIVIA’S LEGS buckled as the guttural protest tore from her throat. Grief and shock welled inside her, overflowing. People shouted, officers mumbled and chaos erupted around her. Doubling over, she crumpled to the ground, but Agent Horn caught her as the police rushed into her father’s house. Sobs racked her body, the tears spilling over, the anguish so deep she couldn’t contain it.
Her father, the only family she had left, had just shot himself.
She clutched the agent’s shirt, dazed and confused and too weak to stand. Horn stroked her hair and back, rocking her in his arms as he coaxed her to the front porch where she collapsed onto the stoop.
“Damn you, Horn,” she exploded, jerking at his shirt, “this is all your fault. If you’d called me sooner, maybe I could have saved my dad. Why did you get him involved in this case?”
He clenched her wrists to stop her assault, but she lurched up and tore away from him, determined to see her father. Maybe he was still alive…
He grabbed her, yanked her back. “No, Olivia!”
“I have to see him. He might still make it!” Shoving him with all her might, she pushed past the police through the front door and into the foyer where she’d greeted her father so many times. The familiar details of the house registered—the same yellowed walls, the oak rolltop desk, the potted plant she’d given him for Christmas, now dead.
Then she spotted him lying on the faded beige carpeting. Face up, his jacket was open, his mouth gaping, his eyes glazed over in death. Blood splattered the floor, the walls, the charcoal gray suit he always wore, even his hands. A shotgun lay beside him, blood dotting the barrel.
The room spun. The stench of death and foul body odors assaulted her. The reality that this wasn’t a story she was working on, but her own flesh and blood, hit her.
Mindless of what she was doing or saying, she dropped to her knees and cradled his hand in hers. “Daddy, please don’t die,” she whispered. “Please. I need you.”
But the limp hand that met hers told her it was too late. Her father was already dead.
A FEW MOMENTS LATER, guilt churned at Craig as he dragged Olivia from her father. The EMT had already checked for a pulse while the police secured the scene and the CSI team rushed in.
He’d known Thornbird was behaving oddly, but hell, the man was strange, eccentric, had wanted to work on the case so much that he’d literally thrown himself into the job 24/7. Thornbird had never mentioned suicide though.
Or had Craig missed the signs?
Olivia’s sobs finally quieted, but the glazed shock and pain in her eyes cut him to the bone.
“I’m sorry, Olivia.” He rubbed her back to calm her, then gestured toward the kitchen which was visible from the small den but far enough to get her away from the
