She whistled and called until her lips were too dry to pucker up. Even then she kept calling. Dogs have very sensitive hearing. Shakespeare knew Steve was coming when he left his house. She knew he could hear her calling him from the yard.
“All right! All right!” She was finally rewarded when she heard her father’s voice in the yard. “You better have to go and not just want to chase a squirrel!”
“Dad!” She traded names. “Dad! Can you hear me? I’m in the garage!”
Ranson poked his head in through the doorway. “Margaret? Are you in here?”
“Yes! Tied to the steering wheel. Can you come and cut this rope?”
Ranson ran into the garage, switched on the light, and used the knife in his pocket to cut the ropes that held her. “Shakespeare started going crazy in there. I thought he must have to go out in the worst way. He was doing everything but standing in my lap trying to get my attention.”
“We have to find Naomi and Abekeni.” Peggy threw the last of the rope that held her to the concrete floor.
“What happened out here? Where is Naomi?”
“After her lover tried to kill us, she got free and left to find him,” Peggy explained. “I have to go to the precinct and tell Al.”
“Don’t leave without me!” He let Shakespeare into the truck before him. “I found my pistol. I’m ready for action!”
“Dad!” Peggy shook her head, but she didn’t have time to argue. “Okay. You can go. But you have to leave the pistol in the truck.”
“Fine. Well, unless I see those polecats who tried to do you in! Let’s get ’em, sweet pea!”
Peggy knew she was going to be sorry, but she didn’t want to waste any more time. She found her spare set of keys and drove quickly to the precinct, not paying any attention to the speed limit signs and hoping someone would want to pull her over. But Queens Road was empty, and the ride to the precinct was uneventful.
She got out of the truck and ran inside, her father and Shakespeare following her. “I have to see Detective McDonald!” she told the sergeant at the front desk. “It’s an emergency!”
Shakespeare barked for good measure, wagging his tail with excitement, his huge tongue lolling out of his mouth.
“I’ll call him,” the sergeant promised, eyeing them warily. “Maybe you should take a seat.”
But Peggy didn’t wait. The door to the back offices buzzed open, and she took advantage of the moment, running through without looking back. She could hear her father and the desk sergeant competing with Shakespeare to see who could complain the loudest. She didn’t care. She raced back to Al’s office, still next to John’s old office, and threw open his door.
“Peggy! I was wondering what happened to you.” Al pushed out of his chair and glared at her. “Another few minutes, and I was going home.”
“Get on the phone,” she told him. “You have to alert Holles Harwood. Get a car over there. Abekeni might try to kill him tonight.”
“Abekeni? You mean Darmus’s son? What in the world—?”
“Just do it.” She collapsed into the chair in front of his desk. “Let’s not sacrifice anyone else, please.”
He grabbed the phone. “Peggy, you better be right.”
“In this case, I’m sure you’d rather be embarrassed than wrong.”
Al made the call. Peggy filled him in on what happened. The hands moved slowly around the wide clock face on the pale green wall. Ranson and Shakespeare joined them after Al told the sergeant it was all right. They spoke in muffled tones as though they wouldn’t be able to hear the phone when it rang telling them what happened.
Al’s radio sounded first, filling the room. “Shots fired. One officer down at the scene.” He got up from his seat. “Officer Lee is injured. Send backup to 121 Hampstead Place.”
Peggy jumped to her feet, not knowing if she could breathe. Her chest was so tight she might have been afraid she was having a heart attack if she could think of anything except losing Paul.
“Don’t panic.” Al grabbed his gun and his coat. “Stay here. I’ll let you know when I know something.”
“Take me with you, or I’ll follow you,” she barked. “You know I’m not staying here!”
Al shook his head. “Come on. But don’t get in the way!”
“One hundred and twenty-one Hampstead Place is where Holles lives.” She walked quickly beside him, leaving Ranson and Shakespeare to bring up the rear.
“Then it might be Abekeni. My God, how much more does Darmus have to take?”
Peggy didn’t say another word as Al drove through the night streets like a NASCAR driver. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t actually think besides a cold, analytical portion of her brain that kept pace with what they were doing. Drive down Tryon to Highway 49. Get off on the ramp. Follow the signs to Hampstead Apartments.
At that moment, she didn’t care about anything other than that. Nothing mattered. Not Darmus or Abekeni, not herself. Her mind replayed over and over the night John was killed. She saw Al’s face when he came to tell her. The face of the surgeon who told her there was nothing he could do. Her own face in the mirror at home when it was over, realizing he was gone. She didn’t even recognize herself.
There were already flashing lights in the apartment complex when they got there. An ambulance crew was getting out and starting toward a dark, grassy area illuminated by the orange lights above their heads. Two police cars were there, officers keeping the growing crowd back from the site.
