As I hoped, Riddick whirled and pointed gun and flashlight in the direction of the crash. I launched myself toward him, taking a few steps and then bringing him down with a flying tackle. I realized too late that I should have taken my arm out of the sling before attacking. We landed hard on the concrete floor, and unfortunately most of my weight landed on my bad arm. I managed not to scream—I kept it down to a loud yelp. I heard something metal skitter across the floor. I hoped it was the gun. Yes, it must be the gun, because I could see the flashlight beam darting about wildly as Riddick started whacking me with it. I raised my good right arm to keep him from hitting my head, and was trying to get my left arm into play so I could hit him back when—

Thunk! Riddick suddenly went limp, and I heard a small metallic tinkling noise on the floor near me.

“Take that, you rude man!” Mother exclaimed.

I grabbed the flashlight from Riddick’s now limp hand, scooted out of reach, and turned the beam on him. Mother had hit him with the bronze nymph. The tinkling noise had been one of the statue’s slender, graceful arms breaking off on contact with Riddick’s skull.

His eyes were closed and I saw a small trickle of blood making its way down his forehead.

I scrambled over to the gun, shifted the flashlight into my left hand, and took firm hold of the weapon.

My left arm wasn’t liking this at all, so I walked back and handed the flashlight to Mother.

“Thank you, dear,” she said. “If you want to tie him up, I have a full roll of packing tape in my purse.”

She kept the flashlight trained on Riddick and the gun at the ready—pointed at the ceiling, thank goodness, not at Riddick and me. I fetched the tape and tied him up. It took rather longer than usual, working with only one good arm. I was relieved that he didn’t wake up while I was doing it, but equally relieved to hear him groan slightly as I was finishing off his ankles. I checked his pulse. It was steady, and I saw his eyelids flutter.

I put as much distance as possible between me and him and sat down heavily on a box.

“Here, dear.” Mother handed me the gun and the flashlight. “You just rest. I’ll go out in the hall where the cell phone reception’s better and call Chief Burke.”

I sat, watching Riddick regain consciousness and begin to struggle against the tape. I put the flashlight on the box beside me and the gun in my jacket pocket. My left shoulder was killing me, and I wouldn’t have the strength to lift the gun if Riddick wriggled out of the tape.