And then a black-gloved fist smashed through the glass on her back door and threw the dead bolt.

Chapter Eleven

Lucy screamed, and then he was in the kitchen, pointing a gun at her and kicking at the barking dogs that surrounded him.

“Don’t move,” he said, and she froze, the can of varnish in her hand.

“The key,” he said. “All I want is the damn key.” He was tall and tense and terrifying, and his eyes burned into hers, angry and desperate.

“It’s too late,” Lucy said, and her voice came out in a terrified whisper. “They found it. It was in the chair. They already opened the box.”

“You’re lying,” he said through his teeth, and Lucy shook her head frantically.

“No, it’s true. I can prove it. They counted what was in the box. There was $180,000 missing. The police have it all.”

His jaw clenched, and she saw him clutch the gun tighter. “Then the police can give it back.”

Lucy took a deep, deliberate breath, trying to stay calm. Somebody help me, she thought, and then she shoved the thought away and concentrated on saving herself. “You’re better off just getting away.”

“No.” He kept the gun on her. “I can get the bonds. I’ve got you as a hostage. Where’s the phone?”

Lucy tried to think around the terror that lapped at her brain. “That hostage stuff never works. Haven’t you seen the movies? They surround the place and bring in negotiators. You’ll never get out of here. Really, you’re better off just getting away.”

“We’re not going to call all the police,” he said and smiled at her. It was a chilling smile that never went near his eyes, and it made the next breath she drew sound like a sob. “We’re going to call just one. Just the cop you’ve been screwing.”

Lucy swallowed hard, too scared to be outraged. “What?”

“The dark-haired one. Call him and tell him to bring the bonds.”

For just a second, the bottom dropped out of Lucy’s mind, plunging her back to the night before, the darkness, and the shots, and the terror of losing Zack. “No,” she said. “There is no way I will call him here so you can shoot him. No.”

“You don’t have any choice,” he said.

“No.” Lucy brought the spray can in front of her and hugged it to her chest, popping the lid off as she clutched it. “No. I won’t.”

“You don’t have any choice,” he said again. “Because I will shoot your dogs, one at a time, until you do.”

He aimed the gun at Heisenberg, and Lucy screamed, “No!” and hurled herself at him, and the dogs screamed and leaped in response, so that when he fired the gun, the bullet missed Heisenberg and went harmlessly into the floor.

By then, Lucy was on top of him with the only weapon she had. And when he jerked his head up to her, raising the gun at the same time, she sprayed him full in the face with the varnish.

He stumbled backward, screaming and clawing at his eyes with his free hand, tripping backward over Einstein who had leaped behind him at the sound of the shot, propelled by Pete who didn’t have the upbringing of the other three dogs and who went for his throat.

Lucy shoved past him in her scramble to get to the back door. She grabbed the baseball bat as she landed against the wall, and then, without thinking, while he tried to fight Pete off and clear his eyes, she swung the bat as hard as she could and connected solidly with the side of his head.

His head made a sound like a melon dropped from a great height, and he toppled over.

Lucy yelled for the dogs and flung open the back door, and when they were safely over him and out, she ran out after them and stumbled next door to Mrs. Dover’s.

The old woman opened the door before Lucy could knock and stood there, scowling at her.

“I have to call the police,” Lucy said, breathing hard, trying not to tremble. “A man just broke into my house and tried to kill me.”

But Mrs. Dover had already swung the door open wider. “Get in here. I already called them. Gunshots. What’s the world coming to?” She was saying all the words she always said, but there was no venom this time. She patted Lucy’s arm awkwardly, frowning at her. “Is he still looking for you? Should we hide?”

Lucy’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t ‘think so. I sprayed him with varnish and hit him with a baseball bat.”

“Good for you,” Mrs. Dover said, still scowling. “Want some tea?”


ZACK HAD JUST REACHED the door to the squad room when Matthews grabbed him. “Shots and screams at your place. It’s Bradley. Falk’s already there. I just waited to tell you. Go.”

And Zack had gone, his heart frozen and his breath stolen.

Shots and screams.

His place.

And then he was there, and there was an ambulance, and he parked the car crazily against the curb and ran to find out how badly she was hurt.

That was when he saw her standing on Mrs. Dover’s cement porch.

“I’m okay,” she called to him, but he went to her anyway, holding her carefully to reassure himself that he hadn’t lost her.


TWO HOURS LATER, THINGS were calmer, but Zack wasn’t.

“What does he say?” Zack said, pacing back and forth through Lucy’s living room.

“He doesn’t say anything,” Anthony said. He was stretched out in one of the overstuffed chairs, collapsed more from relief than from tiredness. “He’s in surgery for a cracked skull. God knows what the varnish did to his eyes. Lucy really did a job on him. And more power to her. He’s John Bradley, all right.”

Zack stopped pacing. “We’ve got that for sure?”

Anthony nodded. “We’ve got it for sure. The Bergmans identified him. With great pleasure. I’ll tell you, between Lucy and his in-laws, anything we do to him in court is going to be superfluous.”

“We’re still going to do it to him. What about the gun?”

“A.38. It’s a match.”

“So that’s it?” Zack said.

“Well, we still need to talk to Bradley Porter,” Anthony pointed out. “He has some explaining to do. But he didn’t steal the bonds, and he didn’t shoot Bianca. He’s important, but not like this guy. The worst is over.”

“Great,” Zack said.

Anthony sighed and pushed himself out of the chair to stand in front of Zack. “I know what’s bothering you. You weren’t here for Lucy. But you couldn’t have been here. He was waiting for you to leave so he could get her. You protected her as well as you could. And she’s fine.”

Zack hunched his shoulders. “Yeah, I know she’s fine.” He turned and walked away to drum his fingers on the mantel. “Tony, this whole thing stinks. Every instinct I’ve got says we screwed up.”

“How?” Anthony demanded. “We’ve got John Bradley. We’ve got a bullet match, we’ve got him attacking Lucy, we’ve got him tied to the plastic explosive… Hell, we’ve got everything but videotapes. He was trying to get Lucy to get the key. She got him first, thank God. It’s over.”

“No,” Zack said stubbornly.

“Fine.” Anthony shook his head. “I give up. You and your instincts stew. I’m leaving. I haven’t had a full day off since I met Lucy, and I need one. I’m going back to do the report on this, and then I’m going home. If you need me, call.” He turned to the door.

Lucy came in from the kitchen with two beers. “I know you’re on duty-”

“Right.” Zack took one of the cans.

“Thank you, Rambette, but no,” Anthony said. “I’m just leaving, and regardless, I want all my reflexes sharp in case you attack.”

“Don’t laugh,” Lucy said. “It was awful.”

“I should have been here,” Zack said and his voice cracked.

Lucy shook her head as she went to him. “It was awful, but I’m glad I did it. He tried to destroy my house. He tried to hurt my dogs. I’m glad I took care of it.” She put her arms around him and looked up at him while he stared down at her miserably. “I wanted to be the one to handle it. That was important. I didn’t know it until it was over, but it was.”

“It’s bad for my ego.” Zack cradled her face with one hand while he pulled her closer. He brushed her cheek gently with his thumb and tried to grin, but he was tense still.

Anthony broke in. “Fortunately, as we all know, your ego has miraculous powers of recovery. And by the way, Lucy, I almost forgot. We got you something.”

“We?” Lucy said, turning to him, and Zack said, “We who?”

“We everybody. Wait here.” Anthony went out to the hall and brought back a long thin package. “It’s from all of us-Falk, Matthews, Forensics. We all signed it.”

Lucy stepped away from Zack and took the package. She opened one end and tipped out a brand-new baseball bat covered with scribbled signatures. “You’re kidding! You all got this for me?”

Anthony grinned at her. “Actually, Forensics felt guilty about taking your bat as evidence, so I went out and got one about an hour ago. Everybody’s signed it except Zack, and I’m sure he’ll get to it later.”

“Sure,” Zack said.

Anthony studied him carefully. “You coming back to the station today?”

Zack nodded without looking at him. “In a minute.”

“Well, I’m going now.” Anthony put his arm around Lucy and kissed her on the cheek. “We’re all very proud of you, kid. The only bad part is that we’re not going to get anymore 911 ‘s from here. The boys are going to miss those trips.”

“I’m not.” Lucy leaned into him a little. “I just want my house fixed, and my life back to normal.”

When Anthony was gone and Lucy had stashed the new bat in a place of honor by the back door, Zack leaned against the kitchen counter and said, “We need to talk.”

“All right,” Lucy said, her voice wary.

Zack folded his arms and tried to look calm. “Am I part of the ‘back to normal’?”

Lucy started to blink and stopped herself. “Of course, you are,” she said. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, look. I know you don’t want to get married,” Zack said, “but…”

“Well, actually,” Lucy broke in, “I…”

They both stopped to let the other finish, and the door chime went.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “It’s probably one of your guys. Somebody probably forgot something.”

He followed her to see, almost bumping into her in the vestibule when she stopped suddenly as she looked through the colored glass on the outside door.

She turned, and Zack, looking past her through the jeweled window, knew what she was going to say before the words were out.

“It’s Bradley.”


THE NEXT MOMENTS WERE jumbled for Lucy, trying to reassure Zack while not shutting out Bradley- a Bradley who looked so white and shaken and angry and so grateful to see her, all at the same time, that she felt sorry for him after all.

“Are you all right?” Bradley grabbed her by the upper arms and looked her over frantically. “I saw the police cars. Are you all right?”

“She’s fine.” Zack held out his hand to Bradley. “I’m Detective Zachary Warren, Riverbend P.D. We’d like to ask you a few questions about John Bradley. Where have you been?”

“Detective Warren.” Bradley looked at Zack’s hand for a moment, and then he released Lucy so he could shake it. “I’ve been in Kentucky. I left a forwarding address with the bank.” He put his arm around Lucy. “Thank you very much for helping my wife.”

“Ex-wife,” Zack said, his teeth clenched.

Bradley looked down at Lucy. “Thank God, you’re safe.” He gave her shoulders a squeeze. “I think it’s time we talked.”

“I do, too.” Lucy stood rigid inside his arm, keeping an inch of space between them by sheer force. “I think we should have talked about this a long time ago. Why didn’t you call?”

“Tina told me not to,” Bradley said. His arm dropped away, and Lucy relaxed a little. “And you were being unreasonable. You threw my clothes out on the lawn. You threw my chair down to the basement.” He stopped as if he realized he was sounding petulant and then smiled down at her, tightly, forgiving. “But I understand. You were upset. I think we should talk now.”

“I don’t,” Zack said, almost spitting the words out. “I think we should talk now.”

“Zack,” Lucy said to him, willing him to understand. “I need to know what happened. Then I can pick up and go on.”

Zack glared at her. “Lucy, I’m a cop. He has information about a crime. I need to take him in for questioning.”

“I know,” Lucy said. “But I’m his ex-wife. I need a few answers myself. Give us just a little time. Please.”

Zack clenched his jaw. “Swell. Let’s all go in and talk.”