“Come on, Casey, open up!” Paval kicked the door. “I’ll use the rifle if you don’t co-operate.”
Casey’s heart tap danced. “The intruder’s Paval Gallenski and he’s got a rifle!” she blurted. “He’s already killed two people.” She locked the bedroom door. “Hurry!”
Leaving the line open, Casey shoved the phone in her pocket and dashed to the window. She lifted the wood frame, then flung her leg over the sill. She could hear the dispatcher’s raised voice asking her to respond. Casey stepped onto the fire escape. A shot rang out from behind her and then a loud bang. Shit, it sounded like he was in her apartment.
Stepping onto the first rung, she clambered down the ladder. She’d almost reached the bottom when she heard what sounded like a door banging open. Casey leapt to the ground. She landed on damp grass, skidded, and fell on her side. Pain flared through her right hip as she struggled to her feet and started to run. A noise above made her look up.
Paval was on the fire escape. “Stay there, Casey!”
She heard the shot about the same time she felt a whoosh of air pass her right ear.
“I could have hit you, but I want you to hear my side,” he called out.
Was he stupid, or crazy? All that noise would lead the cops straight to him. Not a bad idea, though. Casey glanced at her Tercel. Crap, she’d left her keys in the apartment; wouldn’t reach it in time anyway. She ran along the back of the house. She was about to turn the corner when pain seared her right upper arm. She slumped against the house while the burning sensation streaked to her wrist. She clamped her hand over the source. Blood warmed her palm.
“That was your last warning,” Paval shouted. “You have to hear the truth!”
Across the back lane, a dog’s deep bark broke the silence.
Casey turned and looked up at Paval on the fire escape. “What truth, Paval?” She took a small step backward.
“Jasmine got it all wrong.”
Casey took another step back. She was at the corner. There was no time to hesitate. She bolted. Paval would have to use the fire escape or go through the house. The willow tree and hedge wouldn’t be enough to hide her. Sweat seeped down her forehead. She thought she heard a voice, then remembered her phone and pulled it from her pocket.
“I’ve been shot!” Her voice trembled. “I’m at the front of the house, trying to hide.”
“Stay calm, ma’am. Help’s on the way.”
Stay calm? Really? She’d never realized how dumb that sounded when she dealt with irate passengers. Casey entered the front yard and looked at the porch. The door was closed. She ran toward the willow, tripped over something and fell, dropping the phone.
“Shit!”
Casey groped cold blades of grass and the tree root she’d tripped over. She tried using her right hand, but deep, blazing pain made her arm quiver. Wincing, Casey got to her feet and raced for the gate. Her hand shook as she lifted the rusty latch and took off.
“Are you too ignorant to hear the truth, too?” Paval shouted from the front porch.
Too? A fourth shot rang out and ricocheted off a vehicle. Casey raced down the sidewalk, her eyes scanning for help, but no one was around. Somewhere nearby, two more dogs started barking. Had Lou arrived? He always pulled up at the back of the house. She prayed he’d heard Paval and was staying clear.
Casey’s breathing grew ragged. She looked at cars and darkened windows. Most of the neighborhood had already gone to bed. Paval fired again. He was close—too close. Veering to her left, she cut across someone’s yard. Beneath her sweater and long-sleeved shirt, blood trickled down her throbbing arm.
“I’m not a pervert!” Paval yelled.
Adrenaline ricocheted through her body.
“They were only two harmless photos!” he shouted. “That’s all.”
Casey’s ears and chest pounded. The dogs kept barking. Why were there no signs of cops? She swung her leg onto a waist-high, wooden fence separating two front yards. Using only her left arm, she hoisted herself over the fence, lost her balance, and collapsed onto a bed of dirt. Groaning, she scrambled upright and looked at the house. Lights were on and curtains drawn. A couple with four kids lived here. Part of her wanted to rush up the steps and pound on the door, but if Paval was close she’d be dead before she reached it.
Keeping low, she scurried down a weedy path toward the back of the house and headed for the lane. Garages and sheds might keep her hidden. The sound of footsteps behind Casey forced her to dive behind a compost bin at the back of the property. She nestled between the bin and a chain-link fence bordering the lane. Near the house, a garbage can fell over and a man swore.
“Jeremy had messed in his pants,” Paval called out. “I had to clean him up. He was having so much fun in the tub that I snapped a picture, and that’s it!”
Let him talk. Let the whole world know where he was. Obviously, Paval didn’t care. The man had lost his mind. Casey pressed down on her wound. Mercifully, the back lane was unlit. No floodlights in the yard either.
She peeked around the compost. Paval was at the corner of the house, to her right. Three feet from her, a gate opened onto the lane. The latch looked easy enough to release, but what if Paval heard her?
“You saw the photos, didn’t you, Casey? Jasmine must have taken them to work. I saw the look on your face when you were in my bathroom last night.”
Casey held her breath. Her shirt clung to her damp back.
“Jasmine freaked out and threatened to tell everyone I abused kids! What was I supposed to do?”
The porch light went on. A door started to open. It was all the distraction she needed. Casey bounded to the gate, lifted the latch, and took off. She scanned fences across the lane. The nearest ones were too tall to jump.
“It was just a stupid photo,” Paval shouted. “Can’t you understand that?”
“Hey!” a man yelled. “Get off my property! I’ve called the cops.”
The asphalt was cracked and dotted with potholes. Head down, Casey stayed to the right until another shot zinged past her. She darted onto a property without a fence and headed back the way she had come. When she reached the side of the house, floodlights blinked on.
“I told you to stop!” Paval shouted from the lane. “This is your last chance. I mean it!”
Casey bolted through the front yard when two police cruisers sped toward her place. Terrified that Paval was too close, she didn’t call out.
Paval yelled, “I hate people who won’t co-operate!”
He fired another shot. Casey could almost feel the bullet fly past her head. She dove behind a large rhododendron, scrambled to her feet, and dashed behind a parked SUV. Home was five houses back. Street lamps illuminated the police cruiser parked in front of it.
A bullet struck the SUV’s window. Casey’s stomach somersaulted. The cops must have heard the shot. Casey darted to the next parked vehicle closer to home. Her entire arm and shoulder were burning now; blood dripped off her fingertips. She had to make Paval keep talking; the cops needed to know where they both were.
“Paval, did you or Ursula shoot Jasmine?”
“Ursula had nothing to do with this! Don’t you ever spread stories about my wife!”
Casey stole a look through the driver’s side window. Paval was on the sidewalk, rifle raised, as he walked toward the vehicle. Why wasn’t he running away? Surely he’d seen the cruiser.
“I photographed my favorite tenants all the time.” He sounded close to tears. “It didn’t mean anything.”
“But Jasmine didn’t like the pictures you took?” She kept her voice loud.
“She never let me take her picture, and I needed one for my collection. She was so damn stubborn. The other tenants didn’t care.”
“You collect pictures of your tenants?”
“I told you before, the good ones are like family.”
What a freak. Casey spotted movement behind a hedge bordering the sidewalk. “So, you slipped into Jasmine’s bedroom and snapped a picture without her knowing?”
“She was always complaining about insomnia, so I gave her something to help her sleep.”
Casey heard desperation in his voice. “How did she find the photos, Paval?”
“By snooping through our bedroom. Jasmine had no right to call me a pedophile and Ursula a thief! She said
