She was pudgy, with a blond bird’s nest of hair and angry close-set eyes, and was dressed only in a grungy oversize white T-shirt that fell far short of covering fleshy pink butt cheeks.

Letty watched in horror as the woman darted from the room, wielding a baseball bat, advancing on the two men struggling against the car.

The woman planted her feet apart and swung the bat up, poised inches above the back of the cop’s skull.

“Joe!” Letty screamed. “Watch out!”

He turned, startled. The bat came smashing down, missing his head by millimeters, landing with a vicious thud onto the hood of the Impala.

The woman, enraged, raised the bat to strike again, but this time, Joe grabbed her arms and knocked the bat to the ground. “Motherfucker!” she screeched, kicking and clawing at him. Letty hesitated, then ran toward the scuffle, launching herself onto the woman’s back. The woman tried to shake her off, slapped back at her, landing a dizzying blow to her assailant’s ear, but Letty hung on for dear life, her fear dissipating as the adrenaline rush took over. She yanked out a handful of hair and the woman yowled in pain, striking out, grabbing at Letty’s face and arms, raking her flesh with razor-sharp nails.

In response, Letty opened her mouth and sank her teeth into the woman’s fleshy arm, clamping down with her jaws. Her victim screeched and flailed with her left hand at Letty’s legs, which she’d wound around the woman’s thick waist.

Suddenly, without warning, the woman went limp and slumped forward. Letty slid to the ground, gasping for air.

Joe DeCurtis wrapped a plastic zip tie onto the woman’s wrists, fastened it tightly, then knelt on the crushed-shell pavement beside Letty.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I … I’m not sure,” she said. The side of her face throbbed where the woman had landed a blow, and she felt warm blood trickling from her arms and legs. He helped her to her feet. Her legs were shaking so badly she had to lean into his arm for support.

The blonde was on the ground, too, still moaning and writhing. “What happened?” Letty asked.

“I tased her,” he said, his expression grim. He looked around. “Where’d the boyfriend go?”

“I don’t know,” Letty admitted. “I was concentrating on her.”

Just then they heard an approaching siren. A police cruiser, blue lights flashing, sped into the parking lot. The uniformed officer, a powerfully built black woman, jumped out and approached, her hand resting lightly on the butt of her holstered service weapon.

“DeCurtis?” she said, her gaze taking in the blonde on the ground. “Everything okay here?”

“I’m good, but you’re late,” he said ruefully. “This one,” he said, pointing at the woman, “is under arrest for trespassing, resisting arrest, assault and battery, and assaulting a peace officer. And that’s just for starters.”