Split Second

Maggie shook her head, willing the images to stay away. She knew she’d be successful as long as she remained awake. They had captured Albert Stucky that bloody night in August, only to have him escape from prison on Halloween. Her boss, FBI Assistant Director Kyle Cu

Maggie stood, immediately a

Just then she heard a high-pitched whine coming from the kitchen. Jesus! She dug her fingernails into her arm, feeling the sting and finding no comfort in the fact that she was, indeed, awake this time. She grabbed for her gun and tried to steady her pulse, already racing out of control. She slid against the wall, making her way to the kitchen, trying to listen and sniffing the air. The whining stopped as she got to the doorway.

She prepared herself, arms secure and close to her chest. Her finger pressed against the trigger. This time she was ready. She took a deep breath and swung into the kitchen, her gun pointed directly at Greg’s back. He spun around, dropping the freshly opened can of coffee, jumping backward as it crashed to the floor.

“Damn it, Maggie!” He wore only silk boxers. His normally styled blond hair stuck up, and he looked as if he had just gotten out of bed.

“Sorry,” Maggie said, desperately trying to keep the panic from her voice. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.” She tucked the Smith & Wesson .38 into the back waistband of her jeans in an easy, casual motion, as if this was a part of her regular morning routine.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he snapped through gritted teeth. Already he had a broom and dustpan and was sweeping up the mess. Gently, he lifted the tipped can, rescuing as much of his precious gourmet coffee as possible. “One of these days, Maggie, you’re go

She ignored his sarcasm and walked past him. At the sink, she splashed cold water on her face and the back of her neck, hoping he didn’t notice that her hands were still shaking. Though she needn’t worry. Greg saw only what he wanted to see.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, keeping her back to him. “This would never happen if we had gotten a security system.”

“And we would never need a security system if you’d quit your job.”

She was so tired of this old argument. She found a dishcloth and wiped the coffee grounds from the counter. “I’d never ask you to quit being a lawyer, Greg.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Being a lawyer means just as much to you as being an FBI agent means to me.”

“But being a lawyer doesn’t get me cut up and almost killed. It doesn’t have me stalking around my own house with a loaded gun and almost shooting my spouse.” He returned the broom, slamming it into the utility closet.

“Well, after today I guess it won’t be an issue,” she said quietly.

He stopped. His gray eyes met hers and for a brief moment he looked sad, almost apologetic. Then he looked away, snatching the dishcloth Maggie had set aside. He wiped the counter again in careful, deliberate swipes as though she had disappointed him even in this small task.

“So when are the guys from United getting here?” he wanted to know, as if it were a move they had pla

She glanced at the wall clock. “They’ll be here at eight. But I didn’t hire United.”

“Maggie, you have to be careful about movers. They’ll rip you off. You should know…” He stopped, as if reminding himself it was no longer any of his business. “Suit yourself.” He started filling the coffeemaker with level, precise scoops, pursing his lips to confine the scolding he normally would have unleashed on her.

Maggie watched him, predicting his movements, knowing he’d fill the pot to the three-cup line and that he’d squat to eye level to make certain it was exact. She recognized the familiar routine and wondered when they had become strangers. After almost ten years of marriage, they couldn’t even afford each other the courtesies of friendship. Instead, every conversation seemed to be through clenched teeth.

Maggie turned and went back to the spare room, waiting, but hoping he wouldn’t follow her. Not this time. She wouldn’t get through this day if he continued to scold and pout or worse, if he resorted to telling her he still loved her. Those words should have been a comfort; instead, they had come to feel like a sharp knife, especially when he followed them with, “And if you loved me you would quit your job.”

She returned to the liquor cabinet where she had left the glass of Scotch. The sun had barely risen and already she needed her daily dose of liquid bravery to get her through the day. Her mother would be proud. The two of them finally had something in common.

She glanced around the room while she sipped. How could this stack of cartons be the sum of her life? She rubbed a hand over her face, feeling the exhaustion as though it had taken up permanent residence in her bones. How long had it been since she had slept through an entire night? When was the last time she had felt safe? She was so tired of feeling as though she was trapped on a ledge, coming closer and closer to falling.

Assistant Director Cu

CHAPTER 1

Northeast Virginia

(just outside Washington, D.C.)

Five months later—Friday, March 27

Maggie O’Dell jerked and twisted, trying to make herself more comfortable, only now realizing she had fallen asleep in the recliner again. Her skin felt damp with perspiration and her ribs ached. The air in the room was stale and warm, making it difficult to breathe. She fumbled in the dark, reaching for the brass floor lamp, clicking the switch but getting no light. Damn! She hated waking to complete darkness. Usually she took precautions to prevent it.

Her eyes adjusted slowly, squinting and searching behind and around the stacks of boxes she had spent the day packing. Evidently Greg had not bothered to come home. She couldn’t have slept through one of his noisy entrances. It was just as well he didn’t come home. His temper tantrums would only a

She tried to get out of the recliner but stopped when a sharp pain raced along her abdomen. She grabbed at it, as if she could catch the pain and keep it from spreading. Her fingers felt something warm and sticky soaking through her T-shirt. Jesus! What the hell was going on? Carefully, she pulled up the hem and even in the dark she could see it. A chill slipped down her back and the nausea washed over her. A slit in her skin ran from below her left breast across her abdomen. It was bleeding, soaking into her T-shirt and dripping down into the fabric of the recliner.