�We can�t talk to humans!� Coyote stared at her, shocked.
�We�ll tell Dulcie and Kit, they�ll tell them�� But even as she spoke they heard a car coming from the woods along the horse trail, heard the rattle of that rusted, open car, and there was no time to find Dulcie; Willow leaped away down the broken stairs and out the back, heading for the old trailer. Behind her, Coyote didn�t move, he stood staring after her. Glancing back, Willow gave him a scornful look, and slid away into the ivy.
Wilma moved warily and painfully downhill, approaching the derelict mansion, looking for Violet�s pale, swift shape, imagining her flashing away like a ghost among the ruins to some secret hiding place. The Pamillon estate had remained without repair for more than a generation, awaiting disposition of a title so tangled among two dozen heirs that even a vast array of attorneys seemed unable to sort out the many wills and trusts in a way that would establish legal succession. Pausing to get her bearings, shielding the flashlight and switching it on just long enough to be sure she wasn�t headed for a sinkhole, she flicked it off again, startled when she glimpsed Violet�s thin whiteshirt vanish among the jagged walls. Quickly she followed.
In the shadows of a collapsed garden shed and tangled ivy trellis, the girl stood unmoving, as ethereal as a ghost; Wilma approached her, expecting her to run.
She didn�t run, she stood shaking, white as paper in Wilma�s shielded light. Wilma studied her thin face and then took her icy hand. �Come on, Violet. We have to hide. Show me where.�
Violet stared into the shielded light.�There�s a place, but there are spiders and-�
�If we can hide there,� Wilma said, listening to the faint rumble of a distant, ragged engine approaching from the south, �then get on with it! They�re coming.�
Violet listened to the Jeep crunching over gravel and rocks and brushing through the trees, breaking branches. She stiffened when it did not turn up the hill toward the house but continued on through the rubble, heading directly toward them.
�Move it,� Wilma snapped. �Now!�
Violet spun, and ran.
26
W illow and Coyote watched the two women slip quickly in among the vines that hid the old trailer. The shelter stood in such a tangle that only a cat might find it, prowling the rubble as they had, a hunting cat slipping through the heavy growth. They didn�t know how Violet had discovered it-but that man knew about it, too. More than once he had followed her there; months earlier he had watched her slip in there to hide, had waited for her to leave, and then he had pushed into the mildew-stinking trailer to see where she�d been.
The next time she went there the cats had expected him to go in and drag her out, but he didn�t. He watched her, then turned away smirking in a silent, ugly laugh. As if, once he knew her secret, he meant to wait until just the right time to sneak up on her and-what? Thinking about that made them shiver; they feared that sour, sneaky man.
Now they watched the two women disappear quickly beneath the ivy and the metal roof, escaping from the Jeep. Did they think they were safe? A voice behind Willow made her spin around.
�Did she get away?� Cotton said softly. �Did the silver-haired lady get away?�
Willow leaped at him, happily licking his ears.�Didyou bring help? Didyou bring the cops? There are cops all over, sitting in their dark cars. But how�?� Then behind him she saw Dulcie and Kit, and she leaped at them, too. �Quick, you have to tell them. Tell Wilma to run, that the Jeep is coming and those men know where they are. Oh please-� But Dulcie and Kit and Cotton were three streaks racing into the old, hidden trailer.
The trailer was dark inside and smelled of rot and mildew; the door Wilma had come through flopped on one hinge, hanging out into the mat of vines. Safely inside, she shielded the flashlight with her cupped hands and switched it on.
�Where�d you get that?� Violet said.
�In the glove compartment.� She shone the light around the tiny trailer, across surfaces heavy with dirt and rust and rat droppings, over damp wood spongy with rot and smelling sour; everything was thick with mold. Who knew how many varieties of lethal spores Violet breathed in here. If she came here often, no wonder she looked pale and sick-though more likely it was the stress of living in fear of her husband that left the girl so frail.
Going in ahead of Wilma, Violet had curled up at one end of a single bed that was built between a minuscule kitchen counter and a closet that held a smelly toilet. The bed was covered with a filthy spread and smelled sour. Wilma sat down on a narrow bench, one of a pair flanking a small table that had been folded out from the wall and was supported by a flimsy leg. The trailer, cooler than the outdoors, rang with the sounds of crickets, dozens of crickets hidden in the dark around them celebrating the hot, humid night. Wilma sat with her elbows on the table, her chin on her hands, trying to quiet her fear, ignoring the pain in her leg and hip, encouraging her pounding heart to settle to an easier rhythm. A demanding mewl brought her up startled, swinging around to the open door.
Dulcie stood looking in at her. The dark little striped being was hardly visible in the night, but for her lighter nose and ears and the gleam of her green eyes. Crouching, she sprang at Wilma, landing on her shoulder, clinging to her, licking and nuzzling her face. Laughing, Wilma cuddled and hugged Dulcie, kissing her ears.�You�re all right! You don�t know how I missed you, how I worried, how bad I felt for you��
Dulcie couldn�t talk in front of Violet. She couldn�t have talked anyway, she was too choked up, all she could do was mewl. But then, getting hold of herself, she whispered faintly against Wilma�s ear, her words so soft that Wilma could hardly make out what she was saying.
�They�re back. They know about this place! Get away. Cage knows where she hides. Run! Run now!�
Wilma rose fast, holding Dulcie tight.�I hear them, Violet! The Jeep, they�re coming, headed straight here, I hear them talking�Run!� And she was out the door, clutching Dulcie, and away, letting Violet decide her own fate. In the dark behind her, the crickets had stopped. The noise of the Jeep was like thunder. Wilma ran, dodging fallen rubble, her every painful step jolting her. She could hear someone running behind her.
Violet caught up with her, they fled together as headlights veered at them, then vanished. Had they been seen? The engine roared as if goosed, roared again and died.
Silence. Wilma watched Violet warily as they crouched behind a fallen wall maybe thirty feet from the trailer, half that from the Jeep. Dulcie clung tightly to Wilma, her heart pounding against Wilma�s chest. They heard the men step out, their shoes crunching on broken stone. Wilma prayed Violet wouldn�t move-wouldn�t intentionally give them away. The girl started to rise. Wilma shoved her down and twisted her arm behind her. �Be still. Not a sound.�
Violet moaned at the pain of her twisted arm.�Let off a little! I won�t do anything! There�s someone in the back of the Jeep, they�re forcing someone out��
Dulcie breathed one word in Wilma�s ear, turning her cold. �Charlie. They have Charlie.�
There was commotion around the Jeep, the prisoner was fighting them. Cage yelled,�Bitch! Damned bitch. Hold her, for Chrissake!� Then a dull thud and a woman�s muffled moan. But then Charlie snapped, �Go to hell!� That brought Wilma up, rigid.
Both men were facing them, they could see the pale smear of Cage�s face and shirt, his heavy shoulders against a stone wall as they dragged Charlie away from the Jeep. �Untie her feet,� Eddie grumbled. �I�m not carrying her, she�s too damn heavy.�
�Shut up and take her shoulders, I�m not untying her. Hurry the hell up!�