Nigel had taken most of his toiletries to the downstairs bathroom and had yet to bring them back up. This had cleared out a space where she curled in a tight ball. Dakota stood nearby as Juno held her breath, her back curled against the space. Then she heard him close the window in a whoosh, and the snap of the lock. He did a quick tour of Sam’s room, the bathroom, the closet, and then his footsteps receded to the lower level. There was some commotion downstairs; she heard things slamming around. She braced herself to hear another gunshot, but none came. When Dakota’s clangs and bangs sounded far enough away, she pushed open the cabinet door and peered around nervously.

She had to stop him from killing Winnie; she was the only mother Sam had, even if she wasn’t Sam’s biological mother. She’d made a mistake in getting involved; she’d done the wrong thing, and now she had to do the right thing. Juno unfolded herself with the grace of her former years and the pain of her latter. She didn’t hesitate. She headed for the stairs with a rough plan forming in her mind.

Downstairs, Dakota was barricading the doors like he was preparing for some type of siege. When Juno reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw that he’d pushed the foyer chair in front of the door and had reactivated the alarm, the red light glaring like an eye.

He didn’t want anyone else getting out. But where was he now?

Juno ducked around the corner, grateful for the hundredth time that Sam wasn’t here, and headed for the kitchen. As her feet crept over the black-and-white-checkered floor, she heard Winnie’s guttural scream from the apartment. “What are you doing? You killed her! Dakota…!”

She could hear them struggling as she reached the junk drawer, yanking it open and sticking her hand all the way to the back. She found what she was looking for. As her hand closed around it, and she tucked it into the back of her pants, she heard Dakota howling like a wounded animal, followed by an incredulous “You bit me!”