Dead on Target Read Free Page B

they took a shortcut to their car through Lacey's department store.
    "Did you notice how many of those people complained about the security?" Frank stopped beside a mannequin in a low-cut gown to pull out his notebook.
    "Do we have to stop here? It looks like you're trying to get that dummy's phone number," Joe said.
    Frank paid no attention. "Every store owner we spoke to says he or she is being ripped off. Look at this list. Hundreds of feet of wire missing from the Audio-Video Den. Electric clocks disappearing from the Gift Shoppe. Mr. Stone losing wire clippers, electrical supplies ... " Frank suddenly went silent. "That's all stuff you'd need to build bombs."
    Joe stopped dead in his tracks. As he turned to his brother, he felt a tiny tug on the sleeve of his jacket. A flash of movement caught his eye, a glittering something that cut through his jacket, whizzed past him, and stuck with a dull thud in the mannequin's plaster "flesh."
    His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the silvery dart quivering in the dummy's chest. "It tore right through - "
    Frank grabbed his arm. "Let's get out of here before they try another shot!"
    Joe followed his brother, looking over his shoulder at the people around them. A typical mall crowd, hundreds of shoppers clogging the aisles - except that one of those "shoppers" was trying to kill them!

Chapter 4
    THEY FOUGHT THEIR way through a mass of people, all intent on their shopping and hardly suspecting that a silent killer stalked among them. Frank turned back to Joe as they reached the men's department. "Spot anyone following us?" he asked. "Too many people," Joe responded, scanning the crowd. "But I don't - " Another dart hissed between them, burying itself into a pile of sport shirts. Joe banged his fist in frustration.
    "Come on!" he snapped, muscling his way through the crowd, moving like a broken-field runner as he raced for the nearest exit. Frank kept close on his brother's heels, ignoring the annoyed looks he got from jostled shoppers. He threw a glance over his shoulder as they drew near the exit and the crowd thinned. There was still no trace of the mysterious gunman. Joe took advantage of the empty space to break into a run.
    Before they reached the door, however, a store security guard bustled into their path. "Hold it, you kids. What do you think - " A silvery streak whizzed past them just as the guard brought a walkie-talkie to his lips. The man jerked back a step, stared in surprise at the dart sticking out of the shoulder of his red security blazer, then collapsed without a word.
    Joe started to lean over the man, but Frank pushed him toward the door. "That's just what they want you to do. Go!"
    They burst out the door, and Frank bolted off to the left. "There's the movie theater! If we make it around that corner - "
    “IF!" Joe burst out, running hard on Frank's heels. The corner was at least fifty yards away, at the end of a plain concrete wall that gave no cover at all - not even a planter stand. "Great escape route, Frank."
    "Save your breath for running," his brother replied.
    Behind them, the boys heard screams and hub-bub, people responding to the sight of the collapsed guard. With luck, maybe a crowd would gather, blocking the door and giving them a few more seconds' lead. Joe's legs pumped, bringing him almost even with Frank. It was like a nightmare. He was running as fast as he could, but that corner didn't seem to be coming any closer. And behind them . . . surely by now the guy with the gun had reached the door of the department store.
    The muscles between Joe's shoulder blades bunched in tension, expecting the sting of a dart' to tear into them at any moment. He started to turn his head. If anyone was going to shoot him, Joe Hardy was going to look his killer in the eye.
    Frank must have picked up the change of rhythm in Joe's footfalls. "Don't turn! . . . Almost . . . corner." He gasped out the words.
    Joe's head snapped forward. Sure enough, there