Chapter39

#Chapter39

After asking the Uber driver to call 911, Hollis rushed into Jack Richards' home. The Winchester, now free of the golf bag, was raised in his hands. The home's entry led straight into a kitchen and dining room on the right side, ascending stairs on the left, a wall, and past the wall…

The living room. There, kneeling on the floor between the couch and TV, facing the couch, was the uniformed cop who had been assigned to protect Richards. He was staring forward, mouth open. In his right hand, nearly tucked between his knees, was his service weapon.

Across from the officer, seated on the couch, was Jack Richards. His chin was resting on his chest; there was a sizable chunk missing from the rear of his skull and a rose blossom of blood adorned the back of the couch and the white wall behind.

/"Goddamnit,/" Hollis whispered.

He was too late.