On her knees in the kitchen, Kaitlan huddled with Ed behind the cooking island. Ed was crouched down, ready to spring. He’d grabbed a frying pan off the cook top, as if that would do any good.
Craig would be here in seconds. They wouldn’t get out of this alive.
She’d seen Pete’s body down near the office. If Ed hadn’t pulled her back, Craig would have already gotten to her. She hadn’t cared then. She’d only been driven to save her grandfather.
“He’s okay,” Ed had whispered, dragging her away.
Pete. Kaitlan wanted to mourn the man, but she felt strangely empty. She had no time to feel.
If only they could get Pete’s gun.
Somewhere down the south wing, her grandfather yelled for Craig.No. Kaitlan’s eyes squeezed shut.
Crack-crack-crack. Gunshots rang from the north wing.
Ed stiffened. Kaitlan pressed against him.
A stifled yell. Something heavy crashed. The news camera?
Sam.
Ed’s chin dropped, as if he guessed the same.
Deathly silence followed.
Kaitlan pressed a fist to her mouth, breath roughening her throat.
Footsteps entered the kitchen.