“I’m going to move in closer.” She compressed the pad against her wound again, winced at the pain, and waited for the nausea to pass. This time, her hand came away bloody. Ignoring it, she reported in again to the anchor she couldn’t hear. “Apparently, Mike, the lone gunman arrived in a blue car, which should be parked outside in front of one of the windows. I’m happy to say that Gabe’s grandfather is also alive and unharmed. Now I’m working my way toward the register. I can hear the gunman yelling that there has to be more money and the cashier saying that he can’t open the safe. I can see the flash of lights outside. So the police have arrived. They’re shining the lights into the store, telling him to come out with his hands up.” She scuttled out in the open for just a second and then crouched behind a life-sized standee of Mary Lou Retton eating Wheaties. “Tell the police he’s taken off his mask, Mike. He’s blond-haired, with a snake tattoo that wraps around his neck. The gunman is extremely agitated. He’s screaming obscenities and waving his gun around. I think—”

Another gunshot rang out. Glass shattered. Seconds later a SWAT team stormed through the glass doors.

“Tully!” It was Johnny, calling out for her.

“I’m okay.” She stood up slowly, feeling a wave of pain and nausea at the movement. She saw the live truck through the broken window. Mutt was there with the camera, shooting all of it, but she couldn’t see Johnny. “Seattle SWAT has just shot the glass out of the window and come in. They have the robber on the ground. I’ll see if I can get close enough to ask them some questions.”

She eased around the standee and moved slowly forward. She was near the cereal aisle now, and for a split second she thought about Saturday morning breakfasts at the Mularkeys’. Mrs. M. used to let her have Quisp. Only on the weekends, though.

That was her last conscious thought before she passed out.

The drive to the hospital seemed to last forever. All the way there, through the stop-and-go city traffic, Kate sat in the backseat of the smelly cab and prayed that Tully would be okay. Finally, at just past eleven o’clock, they pulled up out front. She paid the driver and ran into the brightly lit lobby.

Johnny and Mutt were already there, slumped in uncomfortable plastic chairs, looking haggard. At her entrance, Johnny stood.

She ran to him. “I saw the news. What happened?”

“A man shot her in the shoulder and she kept on broadcasting. You should have seen her, Mularkey, she was brilliant. Fearless.”