"Wark?"
"I'm guessing it was Wark."
Leaping across the garage, Joe toppled the broom with one swat, where it leaned against the wall. Pushing and pulling together, they got it across the floor and upended, angling it against the bolt. They were forcing the broom with teeth and claws, pushing it against the bolt, when a furry warmth thrust between them, trying to help.
"How did you get here, Kit?" Joe snapped.
"Followed Dulcie," she whispered, pushing with all her might.
From beyond the door, Dillon's muffled, frightened voice cried, "Who's there? What are you doing? Crystal, is that you?" The cats imagined her cowering in the small, dark space while a stranger-quite possibly the killer-pried at the door to get at her.
They tried again, with the kit pushing too-she was stronger than she looked-but the bolt seemed frozen in place.
"We need help," Dulcie said, licking her bruised paws, crouching to race up the stairs-flying to the kitchen, to knock the phone from its cradle.
21
CHARLIE WAS so scared she was almost sick. Parking around the corner from the duplex, she left the van's streetside door open as she'd been instructed. She didn't fear Crystal, she feared whoever had killed the Marners and would be looking for Dillon. Dulcie said that already Officer Wendell had come prowling, in a way that was more than suspicious.
Hurrying along the dark street, she looked warily into the black interiors of the scattered cars parked against the curb, ready to run if someone stepped out to grab her. But despite her fear, she had to smile. She felt like Alice Through the Looking Glass for sure, stumbling around in the night, following orders from a cat.
Quickly up Crystal's drive into the shadows, she moved along the side of the garage until she found the pedestrian entrance, a black rectangle where the door stood open. She could see nothing within. Clutching the hammer that she had pulled from her toolbox, she wondered if she'd be quick enough to use it if someone grabbed her.
A voice from inside made her jump. "She's across the garage," Dulcie said. "Under the stairs. We couldn't slide the bolt-we finally did loosen this one. Hurry. Crystal's gone, you can use your flashlight. Oh, hurry."
Flipping on her flashlight, softly pulling closed the door behind her, she fled across behind Dulcie, her light sweeping across washer and dryer and furnace, pausing on the door beneath the stairs.
She slid the bolt. The door flew open in her face, knocking her backward. Dillon hit her in a tackle that sent her sprawling, the girl's shoulder in her stomach. She couldn't get her breath.
"Get off, Dillon. It's me-it's Charlie." For a thirteen-year-old, the kid was strong. Fighting for her life, she crouched over Charlie, punching, blind with fear. When Charlie grabbed her hands, Dillon kneed her in the stomach, broke her grip, and ran, taking the stairs two at a time. She was halfway across the apartment when Charlie caught her, grabbing Dillon's red hair, upsetting the coffee table, nearly strangling the child before she got her stopped.
"Hold still! Be still! It's all right. I'm getting you out of here. Away from here. I'll hide you."
"That's what she said."
"Stop it! I'm Clyde's friend-Harper's friend-you know that!"
Dillon stared at her, didn't know her well enough to trust her. Charlie wished she'd brought Wilma. "I'll explain when we're out of here. Explain as much as I know. We-I think there's more than one person wanting to kill you." She scanned the apartment, half expecting Crystal to appear.
"Just let me go. Let me go home."
"I can't." Dragging the child, Charlie stepped to the windows.
The drive below was empty. There were no new cars on the street. "Come on."
"Where? I don't want-"
"My place. You can hide at my place."
"Take me to the cops or I won't go! Captain Harper will-"
Charlie held her shoulders, looking down at her. "Harper is under suspicion for your kidnapping. And for the murder of Ruthie and Helen Marner. We know he didn't do it. It gets complicated. You'll have to trust me. If you want to save yourself and help Harper, we need to get out of here."
"Just take me to the station. Is that so hard? Take me to Max Harper." The kid was incredibly stubborn, not nearly as mild-mannered as her parents. Had Harper taught her that, to stand up for what she wanted like that?
"Harper isn't at the station. He's taken administrative leave. He can't hide you. How would it look if you turned up at his place, when some people think he kidnapped you?"
"He didn't! Harper didn't kidnap me! He didn't kill them!"
"I know that. That's why you're in danger. That's why Crystal kidnapped you. Because you're the only witness."
"But Crystal rescued me from that man."
"What man? The killer? Who is he?"
"I didn't know him. It was nearly dark. I thought at first it was Captain Harper. It wasn't. It happened so fast."
A car came up the street. Crystal's black convertible, turning up the steep drive, its lights sweeping across the windows. Charlie pulled her away from the glass.
"Dillon, Crystal's been in touch with the man we think killed them. We think she's using you to blackmail him. That when she's done with you, when you're no use to her, she means to kill you."
"I don't-"
As the garage door rumbled open, Charlie pulled her out the front door, dragged her running down the steps as the overhead door closed again. Charlie couldn't remember whether she'd shut the door under the stairs. They ran, Charlie holding Dillon's arm, racing down the street and around the corner, falling into the van.
She didn't switch on her lights; she hit the overhead for only a second, staring into the back among the ladders and cleaning equipment.
Three pairs of eyes shone back at her. She doused the light and took off, spinning a fast U-turn as Dillon crouched on the seat, her hand on the door handle. Charlie jerked her hand away.
"If you don't trust me, you trust Wilma. I'll take you there."
Something furry brushed by Charlie's cheek and landed in Dillon's lap, purring.
"Dulcie!" She hugged Dulcie, stroking her, nicely distracted. "Why are the cats with you?"
"I'm cat-sitting."
"You brought them with you? Into…?"
"They-followed me when I left, and I couldn't take the time to get them back inside."
Dillon looked at Charlie hard-eyed and skeptical. "How come you're here? What made you come here? How did you know where I was?"
"I-you won't believe this."
"Try."
She glanced over at Dillon. "I had a dream. I dreamed of you and Crystal and a locked door." Charlie looked again at the child, trying for a gaze of wide-eyed innocence.
"No. I don't believe that."
Crystal sighed. Did the kid have to be so tough-minded? Charlie pulled up in front of Wilma's darkened house.
"I'll just get out," Dillon said. "I'll wake her."
"In the dark? Alone?" She reached behind the child, and punched the lock. "With Crystal and the killer looking for you? I don't think so." She gave Dillon a steady look. "We think he's been watching Wilma's house for you. She's seen a strange car cruising."
Dillon hesitated, her eyes questioning, holding Dulcie tight in her arms the way a smaller child would hold a teddy bear.
Charlie looked at the black yard, at the looming bushes and trees. "How about we bring Wilma with us?" Charlie handed her the cell phone. "Call her, wake her up. Tell her we're out here. See if she'll come."
Dillon just looked at her.
Charlie took the phone, dialed Wilma's number.
Dillon's brown eyes searched Charlie's. Her red hair was lank, needed washing.
The phone kept ringing.
Dillon said, "I want to see Harper. That man was dressed like him. And he was riding Bucky. I thought-when he first came up the trail, came over the ridge, I thought-we all thought it was the captain. I waved to him and shouted, and he…"