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Bloody shirt. Wild hair. Terrified eyes.
Before I could process, the man whirled and fled.
Monck sprang from his chair and sprinted, legs pumping hard.
Dovid was right on his heels.
My gaze flicked to Adeera. The winter-dawn eyes met mine, level and stony.
Stay!A gaggle of neurons screamed.
Go!A more reckless cluster bellowed.
Without thinking, I flew into action.
Wending too fast through the mash-up of furniture, I cracked one knee on the hideous table.
Pain exploded in my proximal fibula.
Cursing, I hobble-ran out the front door. Caught only two words of the admonition shrieked at my back.
The men had already cleared the stone walkway. Boots pounded one floor below.
“Stop!” Monck yelled. “Police!”
The pounding continued, receding fast.
I double-stepped down the stairs as best I could. Reached ground level gasping and shaky.
Heard only the distant rhythm of surf.
Call out?
Press on?
Go back?
Dial 911?
Hell, yeah.
In my haste I hadn’t brought my phone.
I held my breath, eyes and ears straining.
Why no birdsong? Why not a single hint of another presence?
The parking lot lay straight ahead, beyond it, a patch of fossiliferous limestone interspersed with stunted trees and tangled creepers. Past the vegetation, the hillside dropped off sharply.
Another moment of indecision.
What if Stribbe was armed?
Wasit Stribbe?
What if Monck was hurt?
A quick scan of the area, I told myself. Then back to the Stribbes’ unit, 2D. And 911.
