"I know that. That's why you're in danger. That's why Crystal kidnapped you. Because you're the only witness."
"But Crystal rescued me from that man."
"What man? The killer? Who is he?"
"I didn't know him. It was nearly dark. I thought at first it was Captain Harper. It wasn't. It happened so fast."
A car came up the street. Crystal's black convertible, turning up the steep drive, its lights sweeping across the windows. Charlie pulled her away from the glass.
"Dillon, Crystal's been in touch with the man we think killed them. We think she's using you to blackmail him. That when she's done with you, when you're no use to her, she means to kill you."
"I don't-"
As the garage door rumbled open, Charlie pulled her out the front door, dragged her running down the steps as the overhead door closed again. Charlie couldn't remember whether she'd shut the door under the stairs. They ran, Charlie holding Dillon's arm, racing down the street and around the corner, falling into the van.
She didn't switch on her lights; she hit the overhead for only a second, staring into the back among the ladders and cleaning equipment.
Three pairs of eyes shone back at her. She doused the light and took off, spinning a fast U-turn as Dillon crouched on the seat, her hand on the door handle. Charlie jerked her hand away.
"If you don't trust me, you trust Wilma. I'll take you there."
Something furry brushed by Charlie's cheek and landed in Dillon's lap, purring.
"Dulcie!" She hugged Dulcie, stroking her, nicely distracted. "Why are the cats with you?"
"I'm cat-sitting."
"You brought them with you? Into…?"
"They-followed me when I left, and I couldn't take the time to get them back inside."
Dillon looked at Charlie hard-eyed and skeptical. "How come you're here? What made you come here? How did you know where I was?"
"I-you won't believe this."
"Try."
She glanced over at Dillon. "I had a dream. I dreamed of you and Crystal and a locked door." Charlie looked again at the child, trying for a gaze of wide-eyed innocence.
"No. I don't believe that."
Crystal sighed. Did the kid have to be so tough-minded? Charlie pulled up in front of Wilma's darkened house.
"I'll just get out," Dillon said. "I'll wake her."
"In the dark? Alone?" She reached behind the child, and punched the lock. "With Crystal and the killer looking for you? I don't think so." She gave Dillon a steady look. "We think he's been watching Wilma's house for you. She's seen a strange car cruising."
Dillon hesitated, her eyes questioning, holding Dulcie tight in her arms the way a smaller child would hold a teddy bear.
Charlie looked at the black yard, at the looming bushes and trees. "How about we bring Wilma with us?" Charlie handed her the cell phone. "Call her, wake her up. Tell her we're out here. See if she'll come."
Dillon just looked at her.
Charlie took the phone, dialed Wilma's number.
Dillon's brown eyes searched Charlie's. Her red hair was lank, needed washing.
The phone kept ringing.
Dillon said, "I want to see Harper. That man was dressed like him. And he was riding Bucky. I thought-when he first came up the trail, came over the ridge, I thought-we all thought it was the captain. I waved to him and shouted, and he…"
Dillon stared at Charlie, her eyes wide and expressionless.
"Did he hurt you?"
"I got away. He was… So much blood. And their screams… I-Redwing got me away." Dillon bent over Dulcie, hugging her so hard Dulcie couldn't breathe.
Charlie sat idling the engine, letting the phone ring and ring, watching Wilma's dark windows, and watching ahead and in her rearview mirror for car lights. Or for a car without lights creeping up the street. Why didn't Wilma answer? She never stayed out this late. Charlie wanted to get out and bang on the door, look in the garage to see if her car was gone. But she wasn't leaving Dillon.
She hung up at last. She was redialing when a black Mercedes came around the corner, no lights, heading straight for them.
Crystal was not alone. Beside her in the open car sat a tall man that Charlie didn't know. As the car slid against the van, Crystal's passenger leveled a large-caliber revolver at them, first picking out Dillon, then moving a quarter inch so his sights were on Charlie.
22
THE GUN aimed at Charlie's face looked as big as a cannon. Had to be a.45 caliber. The man's hands wrapped around it were thin and long. He had a thin face, dark eyes, short dark hair. Aiming at her, he kept both eyes open in the manner of an experienced shooter. Was this Lee Wark? Stubby Baker? Or someone she'd never heard of? She couldn't stop looking at the gun. He waved the barrel, motioning for Dillon to get out. Dillon didn't move. Dulcie had vanished, sliding to the back of the van. Charlie couldn't help looking at the man's long fingers overlapped around the revolver, at his one finger curved tight to the trigger.
"I want the girl! Now! Both of you-out of the van!"
Charlie stomped on the gas and jerked the wheel hard, crashing the van into the Mercedes in a metal-screeching sideswipe that threw the shooter off-balance and dropped Dillon to the floor. She took off, burning rubber. "Dial the cops! Dial them now! Nine-one-one. Do it!"
But Dillon was already dialing.
A yowl of protest rose from the backseat.
"Shut up," Charlie snapped. "One more sound, Joe Grey, and I'll pitch you out the window."
She took the corner on two wheels, her rearview mirrors blazing with lights careening behind her.
"There's static!" Dillon shouted. "I can't make them understand. They can't-Was that a tire? Did we blow a tire?"
"Duck!" Charlie shoved Dillon under the dash as another shot boomed. Four more explosions. Dillon hit the redial. Charlie took a corner so fast she thought she'd topple the van. They were in the middle of the village; she prayed no one was on the streets. She was heading for the police station when a siren screamed behind them. She gave it the gas, watching in the mirror as a black-and-white wedged the Mercedes against a parked truck.
"Give me the phone. Watch behind us. Tell me what's happening!"
Shoving the phone at her, Dillon fled between the seats to the back of the van, where she could see. "It's Officer Wendell. Alone in the patrol car. He hasn't made them get out. My God, he's just standing there talking to them. Just talking! No, he's getting back in his unit. Letting them go. Charlie, he's letting them go. What kind of cop…?"
Charlie turned up Ocean fast, without lights. "Is Crystal coming after us?"
"No, she… Yes. Step on it, she's coming."
She made a fast right. "Where's Wendell?"
"Turned left back there."
Was Wendell trying to cut them off? Charlie swung another right, into the narrow, unlit alley behind Beckwhite Automotive. Parking in the blackest shadows, she punched a one-digit code into the phone, listened to it ring and ring. When finally Clyde answered, she was shouting, couldn't make herself speak softly. She didn't think her plan would work, but she didn't know what else to do. She glanced up at Dillon.
"Stay here. Stay down."
Keeping low, she moved out of the van to a wide, sliding door in the back of the building. Using her flashlight long enough to punch three numbers into its digital lock, she slid the door back. Why didn't Clyde have an automatic door?