“Listen to me very carefully, Mr. Bell, and you others, listen, too. Because of your nefarious activities, a great many people have been put in harm’s way this evening. It’s short of a miracle that all of us are safe for the moment. Outside, fighting the elements, there are dozens of people who are trying to make things right because of all the wrongs you four committed. We know there are more of you, and we will find them, maybe not today or tomorrow, but we will find them. If I were you, I’d start praying right now that the babies, all two dozen of them, are safe and ready to be returned to the parents who helped bring them into the world, their rightful, real, adoptive parents.”

“I want a lawyer,” Baron Bell bellowed.

The Sisters burst out laughing before Kathryn stomped her foot on Bell’s neck. “You aren’t getting it, are you, Mr. Slimeball? You don’t get a lawyer. What you are getting is seven judges who make up a seven-panel jury who will decide your fate. Are you getting it now?” She raised her foot slightly, just enough to allow Bell to speak.

Bell, faster than a snake, grabbed Kathryn’s ankle and was about to topple her when Yoko reached down to send him airborne. Bell landed with a thud against the far wall. A picture with a glass frame crashed to the floor, shards of glass flying in all directions.

“Oh, my God! You killed him. You people are insane!” Adel Newsom screeched. A second later she was lying on top of Baron Bell.

Yoko smiled.

The Sisters scooted over and peered down at the dazed couple.

“You were saying…?” Kathryn said.

“What do you want?” Newsom whined.

“Shut up, Adel,” Bell snapped. “In case you don’t know it, these women are the vigilantes. You should know what they’re capable of. They’ve been splashed over the papers for years. You even told me once you admired them. Do you admire them now, you stupid bitch?”

One of the surrogates took that moment to come alive. “The vigilantes!” she screeched.

“We’re all going to take your…discomfort, your tart mouth as a compliment,” Kathryn said as she eyed Newsom. “From you, we want nothing. We went to your house in Rehoboth and took all your files from the freezer. That was so…Stupid doesn’t even cover it. Even low-level drug dealers know about hiding stuff in freezers. It’s what Mr. Bell has that we want. We opened his safes—that’s plural—earlier this evening, and there was nothing of value in either one. However, someone other than ourselves also opened them, because there were puddles of melted snow in front of the safes. And, Mr. Bell, yes, we knew about the safe in the floor under your desk. You can say something now.”