“I shouldn’t have told him not to move, all I had to do was shoot him and keep firing like you told me, but I didn’t. Then I shot my lamp. I’m a moron. But I did shoot him in the arm, so that’s something. Maybe he’ll get blood poisoning, you think?”
Her voice was manic high. When she crashed, he knew it would take her to the mat for hours. She went on talking, repeating herself another two times, while he took in every inch of her. She sounded and looked like a teenager on drugs, nearly incoherent words flying out her mouth. She was wearing a long dark blue sleep shirt with Wonder Woman on the front, gym socks on her feet. Her hair straggled around her face, the bruise just beginning to fade from her jaw.
He placed his fingers lightly over her mouth to shut her up. She talked through his fingers for a moment before she fell silent. When he moved his fingers, she opened her mouth, gave him an insane grin, then managed to close it again, but not before more than a dozen words spilled out.
He said, “The excitement’s something, isn’t it? You did good, you won. It’s okay that you didn’t kill the guy. Really, it’s okay, you disabled him, maybe.”
She took a breath and said, “I guess I didn’t shoot him flat out at first because I wanted to know who wanted me dead. Well, maybe I’m rationalizing what I did. I don’t remember what I was thinking. But maybe I thought I’m so bright I could take him prisoner and question him. Pound my head against the wall, Cheney, smack me.”
“Not yet,” Cheney said, smiling. “Keep talking, Julia, only slow down. Okay, so he ran out the front door—”
“I didn’t go after him, but I did crack open the front door, and then I heard his car turn over, maybe half a block away. I was hoping he’d be lying dead by the rhododendron bushes, but hey, he’s hurt, right? That bullet could have hit an artery in his arm—no, I couldn’t be that lucky and besides, where’s the blood? When you hit an artery, there’s a fountain of blood, right?”
She was speeding up again to manic tempo so Cheney broke in, speaking slowly, his voice loud. “Look over there on the sidewalk. You can see the splatters of blood from here. You didn’t get an artery, but you did put a bullet in him. That’s enough.” He eased the gun from her hand.
“But I should have shot his head off. He got away. He’s still out there. Oh, come inside, Agent Stone, come in.”
“It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. Make it Cheney.” She started, then laughed. “You’re right, this is the second time you’ve seen me creeped out, only this time you didn’t have to get wet.” She looked down at the white gym socks on her feet, saw a small hole in the big toe, and grinned. “Can I have my gun back? I’ll be careful, I promise. It makes me feel safe, more in control. He would have shot me dead if I hadn’t had it.”
She was coming down, more herself again, so he gave her back her SIG. She sort of slinked sideways into the living room, fanned her gun toward the shadows.
He didn’t smile. “You can put the gun down, Julia. The guy’s gone.”
“Yeah, okay—” She carefully laid her SIG on top of an antique marquetry table, and turned to see him speaking on his cell. When he punched off, he said, “I called Captain Paulette again, told him I’d arrived. He and his team will be here soon. He’ll have his patrol officers out looking for this guy. His officers will start interviewing the neighbors in the morning. It was the same guy, right?”
“Oh yeah, like Thursday night, he didn’t even bother trying to hide his face because he planned to kill me. Didn’t I already tell you that?”
“Yeah, but tell me again.”
“Okay. I couldn’t tell all that much when he was in my bedroom because it was really dark, but when he ran out into the corridor, I could see him plain as day. He was wearing his glasses, but not his Burberry. A dark leather jacket. I think he was wearing black boots. I’ve got to take more shooting lessons, the guy moved so fast. That second time I shot at least two feet wide. I killed my lamp. Then I shot my newel post but that turned out okay. It exploded shards of oak and gouged his face and neck. Got him good, that had to have hurt.”
“Well done.”
She sighed, and for the first time felt a smack of cold exhaustion.
“Captain Paulette will take care of notifying all the hospitals. Maybe his arm is bad enough that he’ll need medical help. Maybe his eyes too. Okay, I want you to start at the beginning all over again.”
She sat on one of the brocade sofas next to him, turned to face him. Before she got started, Captain Paulette walked in. “The front door was unlocked,” he said.
“Good timing, Frank,” Cheney said, and nodded to Julia.
“Hello, Captain Paulette. Okay, I can do this. The thing is, it all happened so fast, but I think I can get it right now.”
But for the moment, she couldn’t speak. She tugged her sock over the hole in the big toe.
Cheney saw Frank give Julia Ransom the once-over, just as he had. Her eyes were still dilated, confused, and he knew she was trying to adjust to the threat of death suddenly gone. “Okay, Julia, while Captain Paulette contacts hospital ERs and gets his men situated, I want you to lean back, close your eyes, and replay the whole thing in your mind. Take deep breaths, try to think clearly.”
“But—”
“You’ll think of more details to tell Captain Paulette, you’ll see.”
Julia heard cars driving up, but no sirens, and that was a relief. Her neighbors still hadn’t stopped giving her sideways looks since August’s murder six months before.
Cheney saw she was still too wired. He rose, offered her his hand. “Tell you what. While Captain Paulette speaks to the officers, let’s make some coffee.”
Captain Paulette sent his eyes heavenward. “Thank you, make it strong. Then I want all the pesky details, Mrs. Ransom.”
It was 4:00 a.m. when Julia watched the people from the forensic unit pack up their gear and tell Captain Paulette they’d be back to finish digging the bullets out of the walls in the morning. “Lots of flying lead,” one of the techs said. “We’ve already marked several drops of his blood inside the house and outside on the walkway. We’ve got maybe another couple of hours tomorrow.”
Captain Paulette said to her, “I called the cops off your house after it was quiet last night, had them doing drive-bys tonight. Sorry, bad call. You’ll have full-time protection again. I should take your gun in but I won’t, particularly after I went to so much trouble getting you a permit on Cheney’s say-so.”
“Thank you, Captain Paulette. I fully plan to keep sleeping with my SIG.”
Julia and Cheney watched Captain Paulette detour to a patrol car parked at the curb. She said to Cheney, “Thanks for volunteering to stay. Even with officers right outside, I’m scared down to my bones. I want to say I can take care of myself—I mean, I sure did tonight, didn’t I? But, well, still, I appreciate it. Follow me, I’ll show you to a guest room.”
She paused a moment, eyed him up and down. “I don’t think the bougainvillea room is quite in your style. It’s too girly-girl. I’ll take you to August’s room.”
It was a large bedroom with a big window that gave onto the bay, with wallpaper that reminded him of the middle of a forest in the deep fall. It was soothing, as mellow as a good massage. “There should be birds chirping.”
“They hibernate with the bears. There are toiletries in the bathroom, even two different bristle strength toothbrushes.” She showed him more of her dead husband’s clothes and left him to the forest with its magnificent view.
Cheney called after her, “Leave your bedroom door open.”
“I’m not about to sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll be right down the hall—with the door open. You can count on it. Thanks again for staying, Cheney. I guess I’m a little spooked.”