There was a loud boom from the living room, followed by a crash of breaking glass. I charged through the double doors, almost knocking Arlene to the carpet.
The big bay window that looked out into the garden was shattered. The rod had fallen, and the drapes lay in tatters on the carpet. A woman sitting on the couch clutched at her shoulder. Blood seeped through her fingers. Another woman held her hand against the back of her head. I realized that people were screaming and that some of those screams were actually squealing tires.
Cynthia ran to the window. I pulled her away.
Arlene was examining the woman with the cut on her head. I went to the woman with a bleeding shoulder. “This isn’t too bad,” Arlene said casually, as though she’d seen much worse. “But we’ll still need to go to the emergency room.”
“This too,” I said. The woman I was examining stared at the bullet hole in my shirt and the tattoos beneath it. “Is anyone else hurt?”
I didn’t get an answer. I heard a door open. Two or three of the women, Miriam included, pushed through the doorway into the front yard.
“No!” I shouted at them. “Stay inside!”
They didn’t listen. So much for my leadership skills. I turned to Cynthia. “Organize a ride to the emergency room for these two. We have someplace to go first.”
I ran out into the yard. Miriam and her three friends stared up the street, trying to see who had fired at them.
As I came near them, I saw a long white van drive up from the other direction. The black barrel of a shotgun protruded from the back window. It pointed at Miriam.
I shouted at them to get down, but she and her friends simply stared at the van in bewilderment. They were as still as paper targets.
I was too far away from the van to use my ghost knife, but Cabot’s gun was still in my pocket. I jammed my hand inside and wrenched it up. The hammer caught on my jacket, tangling the gun.
I had already lost my chance. The shotgun had her in its sights. She was not going to survive.
But the weapon never fired. The van passed us, then squealed away down the road.
I couldn’t figure it out. Was this just a warning, or had someone lost their nerve? I hoped it was the latter; it would restore my faith in humanity a little to know that there were people out there who couldn’t shoot a bunch of women in cold blood.
I dropped the gun back into my pocket and ran to Miriam. She looked shocked.
“He didn’t shoot,” she said, sounding amazed. “I looked right into the barrel of that gun and I prayed it wouldn’t hurt too much, but-“
“Would you get back inside, please?” I couldn’t keep the annoyance out of my voice.
That startled her. She and the other women turned and bustled back to the house. I watched for the return of the van and saw something small rolling in the street. I ran toward it, keeping an eye out for vehicles.
It was a yellow hard hat. The name “benny” was written in all lowercase letters on the inside lining. I sprinted back into the house.
Arlene was organizing the others into their cars. She had a brisk honesty that I liked. “These two will be all right,” she told me as I entered. “Vera is going to drive them to the hospital to be checked up, but I think they’re more frightened than anything.”
“What’s that?” Cynthia asked.
“I found it in the street. It must have come from the van.”
A little woman I hadn’t spoken to yet grabbed my wrist and looked at the lining. “That belongs to my little brother, Benjamin.”
There was a general expression of astonishment. Arlene came over to us. “Vera, do you think he shot at us?”
Vera scowled down at the hard hat. “He’s always losing things. I knew he was in debt to that damn casino, but I never thought he’d go this far, or that Phyllis would ask him to.”
“We don’t know who was behind that shooting,” I said, “so don’t start rumors. Now let’s go. Vera, you’re taking the injured to the hospital, right? Cynthia and I will take Mrs. Farleton there in a bit. We have a stop to make.”
“I’m going with you,” Arlene said. She had a stubborn look in her eye.
“There isn’t room,” I told her.
“My car can squeeze in four,” Cynthia said.
“I know,” I told her.
“I’m going,” Arlene said.
“She is, or I’m not,” Miriam said.
I threw my hands into the air. How could I argue with these people?
I took the gun from my pocket. One of the women gasped, and I felt a little twist of nausea at her fear. I led Vera and the other women to Vera’s station wagon, where they all squeezed in beside one another. As they pulled away, I imagined Luke Dubois sneaking through Miriam’s back door and killing them all while I was out front. I ran back to the house and found them waiting for me.
