Miller struggling in his arms. Unshaven, his top dental plate out, his front teeth missing. His lip and forehead were cut, and his hands were empty. Bastard was a wiry thing, all sinews and tendons, wearing a pair of jockeys and nothing else. He seemed strong enough, but his eyes were terrified at the sight of Dotty.

“Keep her offa me,” he pleaded to Benko.

Dotty sprang up, knee-dropped her ex, then battered him several times across the head with her purse. “Bastard! Fucking bastard!” She punctuated every syllable with a swing of her handbag. “What you put me through!” She kicked Miller in the shins, then kicked him in the scrotum.

Miller doubled over and sobbed. “Get her offa me! Pl-ease!” His nose had opened up and was spouting blood.

She kicked him in the testicles a third time. Miller threw up. Van Horn pulled Dotty away from her ex, another cop took Miller off Benko’s hands.

“Bastard!” she panted.

“You got him good, ma’am,” Van Horn said, trying to restrain her. “Just settle down now.”

“Bastard, bastard, bastard!” Dotty cried.

Benko took her from Van Horn, held her tightly in his arms. “We got him, Dotty,” he cooed. “We got him, and we got Heather. Let’s all go home now.”

“Bastard!” she sobbed.

“It’s over,” Benko said.

She buried herself in Benko’s arms and cried.

Benko said, “Dotty, you shouldn’t have gone after him like that. He had a gun.”

“I know,” she said. “But Doug was always a lousy shot. Never could do anything right.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Benko saw a stretcher being loaded into the ambulance. “Wait here a minute, Dotty. I gotta do something.”

But she followed him to the ambulance anyway. Benko found Marge lying on the gurney, an attendant wrapping a bandage around her forehead.

“You okay?” Benko asked Marge.

“I’ve been better,” Marge whispered.

“Did that bastard do that to you?” Dotty said. “I shoulda killed him, Charlie. I shoulda picked up his gun and killed him.”

Benko took Dotty’s hand and squeezed it. To Marge, he said, “You’re one tough lady, know that?”

Marge thought, I don’t feel so tough right now. She was enveloped in pain, dizzy, sick, shaky, and more than a little scared. “Do me a favor, will you, Charlie?”

“Anything.”

“Call up the station. Talk to Sergeant Decker,” Marge said. “Tell him…I can’t interview Pappy D. He’ll know…what I mean.”

“Sure, honey,” Benko said. “Whatever you say.”

“Don’t tell him why.” Marge felt the contents of her stomach about to come up. “Don’t want to worry…anyone.”

“Okay,” Benko answered.

But Marge knew he’d tell Decker why. Knowing Pete, he’d probably reach the hospital when she did. The thought made her feel a tiny bit better.