In a single unexpected motion, Cheri swept up the coffee mug by her hand and launched its cold contents into his face, simultaneously upending the kitchen table on top of him and sending him flying onto his back.

But he was faster than she’d anticipated, and rolled with his own momentum, breaking free of the table and rising to his knees, close to the door leading toward freedom.

Cut off, Cheri veered away as he regained his footing, made for a door behind her, and, through it, ran upstairs.

Willy gave pursuit, but only as far as the turn in the stairs, where, glancing up, he saw her swivel on the top landing, grab a shotgun leaning against the wall, and level it at him.

He ducked back just as the double-aught round exploded into the wall by his head.

Joe was still at the office when his phone vibrated.

“Hey, boss,” Willy said calmly. “Wanted to give you a heads-up. Got a situation over at Cheri Pratt’s place.”

At Willy’s urging, Joe showed up only with Sam in tow, Lester already being back home with his family. They parked quietly on the street, entered the building, and found Willy in the kitchen, sitting again at the resurrected kitchen table.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted them.

“Cute,” Joe replied, taking in his stained shirtfront. “What the hell’ve you done?”

Willy pointed to the doorway with the stairs. “She took exception to my line of inquiry.”

“And?” Sammie asked.

“She took a shot at me when I followed. Check out the hole in the wall.”

Joe took a couple of steps to inspect Cheri’s handiwork, keeping clear of the actual doorway. “You sure she’s still up there?” he asked, sensitive to the fact that under normal circumstances, the building should’ve been surrounded by the police equivalent of an armed battalion.

In response, Willy yelled, “Cheri?”

“What?”

“Joe’s here!”

Willy smiled at his boss.

“You’re kidding me,” the latter said in an undertone, now at the bottom step. “Hey, Cheri,” he called out in a normal voice. “We got a problem here?”

“Not with you, I don’t.”

“Why don’t you come down so we can talk?”

“You come up.”

“I would if it weren’t for that shotgun. Judging from what I can see, you’re pretty good with it.”

“I won’t shoot you,” she protested.

“I appreciate that, Cheri, but I doubt Kunkle thought you were going to shoot him, either.”

That brought a chuckle from Willy, but in fact, Cheri responded, “Nah. I just got scared.”

“I don’t blame you,” Joe said. “Things have gotten out of hand.”

She seemed to absorb that.

He suggested a compromise. “I’ll head up there, Cheri, but you have to do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Unload the gun and prop it against the wall where I can see it. Will you do that?”

After a telling pause, they heard the classic mechanical slap of a shotgun being cleared.

Joe cautiously peered around the corner and saw the gun’s barrel being leaned against a doorframe at the top of the stairs.