Fair Play (All's Fair Book 2) by Josh Lanyon Read Free Book Online Page B

arrows was aimed at you. At
you.
”
    Now Elliot stared at Upson. He said curtly, “No. Nothing happened.”
    Upson looked at Pine. Pine said, “You don’t have a very lucky family, Professor Mills. Your mother gets killed in an unsolved hit and run. You get shot in the line of duty. And now someone is trying to kill your father. Somebody up there doesn’t like you.”
    “And someone down here doesn’t like my dad. I want to know what progress you’ve made on finding out who burned his house down.”
    Not his most diplomatic approach, but he was feeling less diplomatic by the minute. Why, of all the detectives in Seattle PD, did Pine have to catch Roland’s case?
    Maybe Pine was thinking the same thing. His dark eyes narrowed. He said, “We’ll let you know when there’s something to report. Now if we could speak to the other Professor Mills?”
    * * *
    Tucker phoned as the taillights of Pine and Upson’s sedan disappeared down the tree-lined road.
    “What’s up?”
    Elliot hadn’t realized how frustrated he was by his inability to reach Tucker until he heard his own terse, “Where the hell have you been all night? I’ve been calling you for hours.”
    There was a pause before Tucker said, “What’s wrong?”
    Elliot told him exactly what was wrong, ending with, “Why would you turn your goddamned phone off?”
    “I went to dinner.” Tucker sounded uncharacteristically defensive. “I wanted a couple of undisturbed hours.”
    It wasn’t that Elliot didn’t hear or understand the meaning of the individual words, but strung together in that sentence? It was like Tucker was speaking in a foreign language.
No comprende
. Tucker never turned his phone off—any more than Elliot had turned his phone off when he’d been a special agent. You just...didn’t. He asked in honest bewilderment, “
Why?
”
    Maybe Tucker didn’t hear him, because he said at nearly the same time, “But you’re okay. And Roland is okay? What did the cops say?”
    “They don’t know what to think. At least no one suggested a hunter let off a wild shot.”
    “
Hunters?
Stalking you all the way from your cabin through the woods? That’s a theory that would take one hell of an imagination.”
    “This unsub is a hunter though. You don’t buy that kind of arrow for your school archery club. The one they pulled out of the front door has a high-strength carbon core with an alloy metal jacket. Very popular for hunting big game like elk or bear. Your normal everyday politically inspired psycho favors handguns and automatic weapons, not crossbows and steel arrows, so we’re looking at someone who regularly enjoys bloodsports. Also, there’s a possibility the unsub hasn’t left the island.”
    “Jesus. Okay, look. It’s too late for me to catch the last ferry. But the
Bull Fish
is still harbored at Steilacoom. I’ll be home tonight.”
    That would be nice, yeah. Elliot was definitely feeling the need for some backup. Not that there was anything Tucker could do really, except offer moral support. And since when did Elliot need someone to hold his hand?
    He struggled with himself and got out a brusque, “No. It’s okay. The situation is contained. I think the shooter did pull out. I think—”
    “Shooter?”
    “Archer? I think the unsub left by plane.”
    “By
plane?
”
    “I think so. They didn’t leave by ferry unless my dad is being hunted by an eighty-year-old great-grandmother dragging along a pair of nine-year-olds. And she’d have to somehow hide a crossbow on her person.”
    “Yeah, but—”
    “Plus, I heard a small plane take off just as we reached the cabin. It didn’t really register, I assumed it was the sheriff’s department flying in, but they didn’t show up until about seven minutes later.”
    “The only airstrip on the island is privately owned.”
    “And the sheriffs have already verified that the owner is not in residence—and hasn’t been on the island in months. It might be possible to track