As she reached the main floor, Rosa took in a breath and confidently strode for the front door, but as she passed the guard, he called to her.
“Hey!”
Rosa sprinted away, and as she hoped, the rotund guard didn’t have the endurance to keep up with her. Dodging tables and startling scientists, she pushed through the glass door of the exit and into the bright sun.
Cupping her eyes against the glare, she searched the parking lot for movement.
If Pauline got away from the research center, who knew how long she could hide from them? By the looks of this research center, she probably had enough money to stay hidden for the rest of her life if she wanted—she was smart enough to do it too.
Movement along the side of the building caught Rosa’s attention. A silver Buick, as unmemorable as Pauline’s fashion sense, backed quickly out of a parking space. Rosa, hearing the loud puffing of the security guard behind her, broke into a run. As her bare feet hit pebbles sticking out of the asphalt, Rosa winced but didn’t stop until she was right in front of Pauline’s car. She slapped her hands on the hood of the vehicle, the handcuffs making a loud clank.
Pauline shouted out of the open window. “Get out of the way, Rosa! Please!”
The security guard had stopped several paces back, winded and bent over, his thick arms bracing his knees.
Rosa stared hard at Pauline through the windshield and showed every ounce of her determination. There were only two choices here for Pauline: Run over Rosa, or give herself up.
“Please, Rosa! You don’t understand. He killed our dad!”
Rosa relaxed her hold on the hood of the car. “Who killed your dad?”
“Victor. Victor Boyd.” Pauline, the quiet one, had found her voice now. “When I saw him at the boardwalk, I only meant to tell him off for how he’d treated me in school.” She sobbed into the sleeve of her blouse. “He laughed in my face then told me that he was the one who’d run my dad down.”
“Don’t tell them anything else, Paulie!” Tom Van Peridon’s voice reached them from behind.
Rosa turned to see his long, skinny legs move with surprising speed toward them.
“They don’t have anything,” he said, “Just keep your mouth shut.”
Miguel and Detective Sanchez raced out of the building with Henry Van Peridon on their heels. Grabbing Tom by the arm, Miguel pulled him back so he couldn’t go near his sister.
Pauline sniffed. “I thought maybe Victor was lying, just trying to upset me because he was upset, but . . .”
Slowly, Rosa made her way to the driver’s door, reached over Pauline, and turned off the car’s ignition.
“And you couldn’t let it go?” Rosa pushed gently.
Pauline shook her head and spoke to the steering wheel. “Victor Boyd, more than anybody in this world, deserved payback. But, Rosa, I didn’t kill him. He was alive and carrying that stupid pole when I left him.”
Rosa had a gut feeling Pauline was telling the truth. But if she hadn’t killed him . . .
Pauline was a testing and research manager and wouldn’t know how to rig the panel for the roller coaster, at least not within the limited amount of time she would have had.
But her brothers were electrical engineers. Either of them would know how.
The question now was, who was Pauline trying to protect?
“Pauline,” Rosa said gently, “If you’re innocent, why did you run from me?”
Pauline’s tear-filled eyes glanced at her brother Henry. When Rosa followed her gaze, Miguel and Detective Sanchez did the same.
Unlike his brother, Henry buckled under pressure. He darted into the surrounding forest, his actions all but confirming his guilt.
Miguel took off after him. “Henry Van Peridon, stop!”
Rosa stared at Detective Sanchez, who made a show of holding Tom Van Peridon, and not easily. Pauline wasn’t a real danger, and Miguel was about to disappear into the forest without backup. Rosa hurried after him.
Her pulse raced, not only because of the adrenaline rush that came from the chase but because Miguel could be in danger. For all they knew, Henry Van Peridon could have set booby-traps around the research center.
Rosa didn’t spend a lot of time barefoot, and despite the urgency of the situation, the pain that shot up her legs from pokey twigs and sharp pebbles slowed her down.
“Miguel!”
It was too quiet. Rosa fought against the pain in her feet and kept running. “Miguel!”
Please, Lord, let him be all right.
She pushed through the scraggly desert brush, wincing at the scratches inflicted on her forearms. “Miguel?”
She broke into a clearing and stopped short. Straddling Henry Van Peridon, who was lying facedown on the dirt, was Miguel, holding his captive’s arms tight behind his back.
Rosa took a moment to catch her breath. The thought of something happening to Miguel, of losing him, was an incredible ache, and she soaked in the feeling of immense relief she felt at seeing he was alive and well.
Oblivious to the gamut of emotion Rosa was wrestling still, Miguel nodded to the handcuff weighing painfully from her wrist. “You done with those?”
“I need a key.”
“Ah, right.” Miguel put pressure on Mr. Van Peridon’s back with one hand. With the other, he retrieved the handcuff key from his pocket and handed it to Rosa.
Rosa freed herself then watched as Miguel snapped them on Mr. Van Peridon’s wrists.
“Nice work, Detective Belmonte,” Rosa said, unable to keep from grinning.
Miguel’s copper-brown eyes focused on hers, and adorable dimples formed.
Rosa held in a sigh. The man still made her quiver.
“Same to you, WPC Reed.”
23
Riding her Schwinn bicycle down the wide street leading to the Kline residence, Rosa slowed to a stop in front of their house.
She hadn’t called ahead. What if Nancy was busy? Or worse, what if she never wanted to see Rosa again?
One of the curtain panels in
