“Police!” They’re standing at the open door, looking down, guns raised.

Cal grabs my leg, and I fall flat on my face on the crumbled cement floor. I look back at him. Blood is bubbling from the wound in his neck. He’s trying to stop it with one hand and hold on to my leg with the other. I kick and thrash, finally breaking free.

Cops are descending the ladder as I run toward them. An older cop lowers his gun and pulls me to his side.

Detective Myers, her weapon raised, strides toward Cal. His face is a sickly white, and he grins at me. “Look, Melinda. They’re here. The media can’t be far behind.”

CHAPTER 73 - Rita

CHAPTER 73

Rita

IT HAS BEEN A DAY SO BUSY, NO ONE’S HAD A MINUTE TO EAT, SO WHEN Joe and I found ourselves at the station at seven twenty-two p.m., we were ravenous.

Cal Ferris is in the hospital, uniformed officers guarding his door. Mrs. Ferris was found bleeding and unconscious on the beach and is currently in a hospital on the coast. She managed to break a couple of her husband’s ribs and give him a pretty good blow to the head before he shot her twice. Luckily, his aim was off, and she’ll survive.

Bob just finished a press conference in which Joe and I participated. The media, starved for information, could barely control themselves and jostled for room on the sidewalk in front of the station. Then they scurried away to file their stories or wait for their on-air cues.

Mrs. Bradley was checked out at the hospital and released to her family after giving her statement from her bedside. There’ll be more questions later, but for now, we’ve got plenty to do.

Agent Metz left to grab dinner with her parents, and Chase is on his way home to his wife and son. Lauren is busy in the squad room, head bent over her keyboard, a half-finished ham and cheese deli sandwich next to her.

Joe and I head over to Mac’s. I’m limping slightly on my sore ankle but hope a couple glasses of wine will help soothe the pain. There are a few of the guys from the station hanging over the bar, laughing and blowing off steam. We’re all relieved that Mrs. Bradley was found relatively unhurt and our man is in custody. No one looks up or notices as Joe and I slide into the last booth in the corner.

We order mozzarella sticks, a large pepperoni and black olive pizza, a couple of salads, and a bottle of wine. I sip, and the alcohol hits my depleted blood stream quickly, filling my veins, making me feel tingly and light-headed. I grab up a slice of pizza and take a huge bite. I’m starving.

Joe leans back and laughs.

“What?”