Free Twelve to Murder (A Mac Faraday Mystery) by Lauren Carr Page A

weeks. They were like my family. They even took me on vacation with them. She was good to me, man! Why would I have killed her?”
    He picked up his beer mug and flung it across the room. “I know why! To get to me! They have been working to ruin me ever since—jealous! They’re all envious of me and my talent and they have been trying to take me down and they’ve managed to succeed and this—this is the final straw to break me—killing the only people who have been loyal to me my whole life and framing me for it!”
    As if struck with a sudden thought, he grasped the gun with both hands. His red-rimmed eyes were wide as he held the gun steady, with it pointed at Mac’s chest.  “You want to help me?”
    Still clutching his cell phone, Mac held his hands up. “Yes I do, Lenny. I do want to help you. Tell me what you want me to do.”
    “Find out who it is,” Lenny said. “Find out who killed Janice and who is framing me.”
    Mac looked around at the hostages gathered in the bar. Gnarly was staring at the gun, while waiting for his signal to disarm the gunman.
    Too risky right now. If the gun went off when Gnarly’s jaws clamped down on his hand, a bullet could ricochet and hit any of them.
    Lenny’s eyes went to the clock above the bar.
    12:21 in the afternoon.
    “Midnight,” Lenny said. “You have until midnight.”
    “Midnight to do what?” Mac asked.
    “Midnight to prove I didn’t kill them and find out who has been behind this conspiracy to ruin me my whole life.”
    “That’s a tall order,” Mac said.
    “If anyone can do it, Mickey, you can.”
    “And if I don’t?”
    “You have twelve hours to murder,” Lenny said in a low, steady tone. “At midnight, I’m going to kill everyone in this bar—you last, so that you can see everyone die before you—because you failed. Then I’ll shoot myself.”

Chapter Five

    Garrett County Sheriff’s Command Center

    David bent over the computer tablet that was picking up the feed from the button cam. With a few touches of his fingers on the screen, he captured the image and sent it to his cell phone.
    “What are you doing?” Sheriff Turow asked. “O’Callaghan, need I remind you that this is not your case? My department is handling this situation.”
    “That’s right.” David stood up. “You’re handling the hostage situation and I’m investigating a double homicide in my jurisdiction. You heard Frost. He’s giving Mac until midnight to solve these murders and then he’s going to kill everyone in there, including my man. I’m not going to let that happen.”
    Turning around in the tight confines of the van, David found Bogie blocking his way out. “Bogie, you stay here. I want to know everything that they’re doing. Keep me informed about everything that happens inside that pub.”
    “Where are you going?” Bogie asked.
    “Back to the station to question Derrick Stillman,” David said while climbing out of the van. “He’s got the most to gain from his parents’ deaths, and he was close to Frost. Seems to me he’s the best place to start when looking for suspects.”
    David waited until he was outside before taking his smart phone out and forwarding the image he had sent to his phone to one of his favorite numbers. In the text message accompanying the photo he wrote, “Meet me @ station. I need U.”

    “Okay, Lenny,” Mac said in a calm tone while stepping toward the pub’s small stage where Lenny had propped himself on a stool. He shifted to place himself between Lenny and the gun and the hostages, who had returned to watching the ballgame, at the bar. “You want me to prove that you didn’t kill your agent and her husband. I can’t do that unless you help me. Tell me who would have killed them to frame you. Give me a name.”
    “A name?” Lenny asked with a loud scoff. “There are so many.”
    “Seriously, Lenny.” Mac lifted one foot onto the stage and leaned in to him. “Two people were murdered. You’re being