roof joist. He pulled the rope taut, then rappelled quickly up the side of the building. The thud of his tennis shoes on the metal wall sounded like thunder. He disappeared through a ventilation duct. Quill pressed herself against the building and quivered. The moments before John opened the door seemed endless. She let out her breath, only half-aware that she'd been holding it, when she heard the quiet click of the bar being drawn from the inside door.
Moonlight leaked through the open ventilation shafts in the roof, picking out the cab of a semi truck and four Thermo King refrigeration units. John took her hand, and they made their way carefully across the floor.
'If anyone comes in,' John said very quietly, 'roll under the cab and stay there.'
Quill nodded. 'These things are locked, aren't they? How are you going to get in?'
'There's a maintenance door under the roof. Give me leg up.'
Quill crouched down and cupped her hands together. John put his hands on her shoulders, stepped into her cupped hands, and sprang up. Quill staggered back; he was unexpectedly heavy.
She waited, searching the darkness. It was quiet. Too quiet. Quill bit back hysterical giggles. Time stretched on. Suddenly, a dark shape appeared at the back of the unit. Adrenalin surged through Quill like a lightning strike. 'Safety door,' said John. 'You can open the units from the inside once you get in.'
'God!' said Quill, 'did you find anything?'
A low growl cut the air. Quill's breath stopped. John grabbed her hand. The growl rose, fell, and turned into a snarl.
'The dog's back,' said Quill.
'Oh hell!' John thrust her behind him. Quill could smell the rank, matted odor of an animal neglected. The snarl spun on, a sinister, mesmerizing purl of sound. John flattened himself against the metal unit and pulled her carefully with him. The snarl died. Quill could hear the dog panting. It wriggled out of the dark, ears pinned against its head, lips pulled back, eyes slits of red in the moonlight. The dog sprang. John hurled himself in front of her. Quill, her lip bloody from the effort not to scream, swung the flashlight hard and connected with the dog's thick furry skull. The animal shrieked and dropped back. The door to the unit was slightly ajar. Quill swung it open, scrabbling frantically in the frigid air. She pulled a box from the unit. It fell to the ground. Packages of hot dogs spilled into the dirt. The dog shook its head and got to its feet.
'Good doggie,' said Quill, 'nice boy.' Moving carefully, eyes on the dog, she bent and picked up the frozen hot dogs, rolling them to the dog like bowling balls. The dog sprang on the meat, both paws protectively over the package. It glared at them. The growl heightened to a snarl, the snarl to a bark which split the air like a hammer.
'Okay,' gasped John. 'It's not going to charge if it's barking. Back off, slowly. Don't run until we get outside.'
He forced Quill behind him. She held on to his arm; he grunted in pain, and she let him go. Her palms were wet and she smelled blood. The dog's barking grew intermittent, interspersed with snarling gulps of the frozen meat.
They reached the warehouse door. Backed out slowly. Quill slammed it shut. Lights in the trailer snapped on.
They ran. John forced Quill under the fence and followed her. Freddie Allbright shouted into the dark. Quill fumbled for the keys to the car, threw herself into the driver's seat, and was out on Route 96 before John had the passenger door closed.
'Good Lord,' said Quill, when they were back in her room.
She peeled John's shirt back from his forearm. 'He got one good chomp in, didn't he?'
'It was worth it,' said John. 'There's a carcass there with the reject stamp.' He waved the camera. 'And I got the pictures. Now, Quill, I have a favor to ask. I'll need until Tuesday at least to go through Tom's financial records. Myles is gone until then, right?'
'Yes.'
'I'm going to turn myself in. But not for another forty-eight hours. I'd appreciate it if you gave me some time.'
'Gave you some time? You mean, you think I'd turn you in? John, how could you?'
'How could you not?' he said wryly. 'You can't harbor a fugitive. I wouldn't let you, anyway.'
'Just tell me where you're going to be, so I can report on my progress to you. I'm going down to the Marriott tomorrow, and I'm going to pump Mrs. Hallenbeck for everything that she knew about Mavis' affairs. Peterson's got to be connected with her somehow. And... now, this is the worst sacrifice of all, John.' She paused impressively. 'I'm going to eat lunch at the Hemlock Hometown Diner-Fine Food and Fast. Are you grateful, or what?'
For the first time that evening, a real smile crossed John's face. 'Pretty noble, boss.'
' 'Pretty noble'? I'd say that's incredibly noble.' There was a hard, imperative knock at the door.
'I didn't lock it,' Quill hissed, then loudly, 'Just a moment, please.'
The door swung open and Mrs. Hallenbeck walked into the room. 'So!' she said. 'You finally caught him!'
-11-
Mrs. Hallenbeck marched into Quill's quarters frail, rude and triumphant. Quill, astonished, looked at her watch: six-thirty in the morning.
'You didn't answer my phone messages,' said Mrs. Hallenbeck. 'I thought perhaps you didn't get them. I woke up and Mavis wasn't there to get my coffee. I always have just one cup, cut with hot water before I take my walk. Would you get it for me, please?' She sat down in the straight-back chair near the easel, and frowned at John. 'What are you doing in Sarah's room? Have you spent the night here?' She lifted her chin. 'If you have, I shall think twice about offering Sarah the opportunity to be in my employ.' She smoothed her linen trousers with a precise hand. 'Now. Tell me why I shouldn't call the police immediately. Everyone has been looking for this man.'
