Valentine felt his face grow warm.
“That’s funny,” he said.
“That the Schlitzies were crooks?” his neighbor said.
“Sorry. I was just talking out loud.”
“Well, I need to run. I’ve got lasagna baking in the oven, and Yolanda is coming over later for dinner. You take care of yourself.”
“You, too,” he said.
The phone went dead in his hand. He killed the connection when the frantic banging started again. It was so loud it nearly made him jump. He jerked open the door to find a young girl with a ponytail standing on the stoop. Out in the driveway lay a bicycle.
“Mr. Valentine,” she said breathlessly. “Please help.”
Valentine crouched down so they were eye to eye. It was a trick he’d learned when he was a street cop and had to talk to a kid. It immediately set them at ease. The girl was about twelve, tall and blond, and wore a navy sweatshirt that said ASPIRING SHOPAHOLIC. It was funny; only, there was nothing but fear in her eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Elizabeth Ford. Everyone calls me Liz.”
“Who do you want me to help, Liz?”
“Ms. Stoker.”
He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “Has she been hurt?”
She was breathing hard and nodded her head.
“Did she send you?”
“She doesn’t know,” she said.
“Take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”
“I went to her house. She was going to help me with a book report for school. I usually let myself in through the back door. There’s a key under the mat. I went into the kitchen and heard voices in the living room. I pushed the door open and looked inside.”
Tears raced down her cheeks. Valentine held her steady. “You’re a very brave girl. Now tell me what you saw.”
“There were four men in the living room with Ms. Stoker. They had accents. They were threatening her. She was sitting in a chair, and they were standing around her. One of the men was breaking things—”
“What kind of things?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I was scared.”
“I know you were. What were the men saying?”
“One of them was threatening Ms. Stoker. He kept telling her she had a big mouth and that he’d hurt her if she said anything else. Ms. Stoker tried to talk back, but the man kept poking her in the shoulder with his hand. Finally she tried to say something, and…”
“And what?”
“He hit her in the face with his hand.”
Liz was really crying now. Valentine drew her into his chest and held her until the sobs subsided. He could remember it like it was yesterday: His old man getting drunk and slapping his mother around. The memory had only grown more vivid as he’d gotten older. “What did you do then?” he asked.
“I hid in the pantry. I heard the men leave and ran into the living room. Ms. Stoker was sitting in her chair crying. I asked her what she wanted me to do. She told me to go home and forget what I’d seen.”
“But you came here instead.”
She swiped at her eyes. “I heard you liked her.”
Valentine pushed himself up so he was standing. “You’re a smart kid, you know that?”
“Are you going to help Ms. Stoker?”
“You bet I am,” he said.
29
Liz gave him instructions to Mary Alice Stoker’s house, then pedaled away on her bike. The blind librarian lived near the high school. Valentine had wondered how she got to work every day, and now he knew. She walked.
From the kitchen he got his Glock and ankle strap and put them both on. He planned on retiring the gun once he got home. But not a minute before.
He made the tires squeal backing down the driveway. If Mary Alice was being threatened for opening her mouth, then he was in danger as well. Braking the car, he reached down and drew the Glock from his ankle and laid it on his lap. Then he drove to Mary Alice’s house with one eye on his mirror.
As the high school came into view, he weighed calling Sergeant Gaylord and giving him a heads-up. Gaylord had made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate any more nonsense. Mary Alice’s street was directly behind the school, and Valentine pulled down it with the phone clutched in his hand.
But he didn’t make the call. Mary Alice had told Liz not to call the police, and he had no right to ignore her request. He laid the phone on the seat and searched for her address. He found her house at the street’s end—a simple two-story with peeling paint and a wraparound porch with a swing—and pulled into her driveway. Slipping the Glock into his pocket, he climbed out of the car.
Standing at the front door, he started to knock, then hesitated when he heard footsteps on the other side of the door. “It’s Tony Valentine. May I come in?”
“I was in the middle of something,” she said through the door. “What do you want?”
“I need to return an overdue book.”
There was a long silence. The four men had scared the daylights out of her. That was why she wasn’t opening the door. He knocked again, this time a little more forcefully.
“What do you want?” she asked again.
“Your permission.”
“To do what?”
“Beat up the four guys who threatened you.”
The door jerked open, and she stood silhouetted in the doorway. She wore a floor-length denim dress and had her hair down. Something hard dropped in his stomach. A hideous purple bruise marred the right side of her face. She held an ice pack in her outstretched hand, letting him see what they had done to her. He silently followed her inside.
His eyes canvassed the living room. Liz had said the four men had broken things while threatening Mary Alice. He didn’t see any evidence of that.
“Elizabeth Ford told you,” she said, sitting on the couch.
He drew up a chair and sat across from her. “That’s right. She said four men were threatening you.”
“It was a misunderstanding.”
Valentine stared at the bruise on the side of her head. It was a beauty. “I’ve discovered that kids are good barometers when it comes to bad people. These guys sounded scary.”
“I told you, it was a misunderstanding.”
“Liz said one of them hit you.”
“She has an active imagination.”
“How did you get that bruise?”
“I fell down earlier when I was outside. Blind people do that sometimes.”
He drew back in his chair. There was real defiance in her voice. The friendliness she’d shown that morning had evaporated, and he sensed that she didn’t want him in her house.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“You’re very perceptive,” she said.
He rose and put the chair back where he’d found it. He started to walk to the door and heard something
