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Then I knew.
It was in my handbag in the living room, and the closest phone was there,
too. How could I be so vulnerable? Was I going to die trapped in this room? My
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heart pounded so hard it hurt.
I lifted my head just inches off the floor and by the faint green light of
the VCR clock, I took inventory.
I focused on every surface and object in the room, looking for something,
anything, I could use to protect myself.
The place was littered with big stuffed animals and a dozen dolls, but there
wasn t a single baseball bat or hockey stick, nothing I could use in a fight.
I couldn t even throw the TV, because it was bolted to the wall.
I pulled myself across the hardwood floor on my forearms, reached up, and
locked the bedroom door.
Just then, another fusillade of shots rang out automatic gunfire raking the
front of the house, again striking the living room and the spare room at the
end of the hall. Then the true intent of the assault finally sunk in.
I could have been should have been sleeping in that bedroom.
Inching forward on my stomach, I clasped the leg of a wooden chair, pushed at
it, angled the chair onto its rear legs, and wedged its back under the
doorknob. Then I picked up its twin and swung it against the dresser.
With a length of chair leg in my hand, I crouched with my back to the wall.
It was just pathetic. Forget the dog under the bed, my only line of defense
was a chair leg.
If anyone came through the door aiming to kill me, I was dead.
Chapter 110
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AS I LISTENED FOR the sound of feet on the floorboards outside the bedroom, I
imagined the door being kicked open and me swinging at the intruder with my
stick, hoping to God that I could somehow knock his brains out.
But as the VCR clock blinked away the minutes and the silence grew longer, my
adrenaline ebbed.
And I started to get mad.
I stood, listened at the door, and when I heard nothing, I opened it and
worked my way down the long hallway, using doorways and walls as barricades.
When I got to the living room, I grabbed my bag from where it leaned against
the sofa.
I reached in and closed my hand around my gun.
Thank you, God.
As I called 911, I peeked through slits in the window blinds. The street
looked empty, but I thought I saw something glinting on the front lawn. What
was it?
I told the dispatcher my name, rank, and shield number, and that shots had
been fired at 265 Sea View.
Anyone hurt?
No, I m fine, but call Chief Stark on this.
It s already been called in, Lieutenant. The cavalry is on the way.
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Chapter 111
I HEARD SIRENS AND saw flashing lights approaching Sea View. As the first
cruiser arrived, I opened the front door, and Martha bolted past me. She ran
over to a snakelike object that was lying in the moonlight.
She gave it a sniff.
Martha, what have you found? What is it, girl?
I was hunkered down beside Martha when Chief Peter Stark got out of his squad
car. He walked over with his flashlight and knelt down next to me.
You okay?
Yep. I m good.
Is that what I think it is? he asked.
Together, we looked at a man s belt. It was about thirty-six inches long and
a half-inch wide, narrow brown leather with a squared dull silver buckle. It
was such an ordinary belt; probably half the people in the state had one like
it in their closet somewhere.
But this particular belt seemed to have some brownish-red stains on the
metalwork.
Wouldn t it be grand, I said, refusing to dwell on the terror of the last
few minutes how those shots had surely been meant for me wouldn t it be
something, I said to Chief Stark, if this belt was evidence?
Chapter 112
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THREE SQUAD CARS HAD pulled up to the curb. Radios sputtered and crackled,
and all along Sea View, lights went on in houses, and people came out onto
their doorsteps wearingPJs and robes, T-shirts and shorts, hair standing up,
fear overriding the lines in their sleep-creased faces.
Cat s front yard was lit by headlights, and as the cops exited their cars,
they conferred with the chief and spread out. A couple of uniforms started
collecting shell casings, and a pair of detectives began to canvass the
neighbors.
I took Stark into the house, and together we examined the shattered windows,
the splintered furniture, and the bullet-pocked headboard in my bedroom.
Any thoughts on who did this? Stark asked me.
None, I said. My car s in the driveway where anyone can see it, but I
didn t let anyone know I d be in town.
And why are you here, Lieutenant?
I was considering the best way to answer that when I heard Allison andCarolee
calling out my name. A young cop with ruddy, protruding ears came to the
threshold and told Stark that I had visitors.
They can t come in here, Stark said. Jesus Christ, is someone roping off
the street?
The uniformed cop s face colored completely as he shook his head no.
Why the hell not? Number one: Stabilize the scene. Get on it.
I followed the patrolman as far as the front doorstep, whereCarolee and
Allison grabbed me in a much-needed two-tier hug.
One of my kids monitors the police band, Carolee said. I got over here as
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soon as I heard. Oh, my God, Lindsay. Your arms.
I glanced down. Broken glass had made a few cuts in my forearms, and blood
had streaked down and stained my shirt.
It looked a lot worse than it was.
I m fine, I toldCarolee . Just a few scratches. I m sure.
You don t plan to stay here, do you, Lindsay? Because that s crazy, Carolee
said, her face showing how mad she was and how scared. I ve got plenty of
room for you at the house.
Good idea, Stark said, coming up behind me. Go with your nice friend. I ve
got calls in to the CSU techs, and they re going to be prying slugs out of
your walls and combing the place for the rest of the night.
That s fine. I ll be okay here, I told him. This is my sister s house. I m
not going to leave.
All right. But don t forget that this is our case, Lieutenant. You re still
out of your jurisdiction. Don t go all cowgirl on us, okay?
Go all cowgirl? Who do you think you re talking to?
Look. I m sorry, but someone just tried to kill you.
Thanks. I got that.
The chief patted down his hair out of habit. I ll keep a patrol car posted
in the driveway tonight. Maybe longer.
As I said good-night toCarolee and Allison, the chief went to his car and
returned with a paper bag. He was using a ballpoint pen to lift the belt into
the bag as I wrapped my dignity tightly around myself and closed the front
door.
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I went to bed, but of course I couldn t sleep. Cops were coming and going
through the house, slamming doors and laughing, and besides, my mind was
spinning.
I stroked Martha s head absently as she shivered beside me. Someone had shot
up this house and left a calling card.
Was it a warning to stay away from Half Moon Bay?
Or had the shooter really tried to kill me?
What would happen when I turned up alive?
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