Such men. Of course, we hadn’t told Mr. Patel what we were really afraid of. Not a person, but a bloodthirsty monster out of a Narragansett legend. We’d just told him that we thought the person who had killed those animals was in my house, and had lured my aunt home by calling the library and saying I’d been hurt.

“He probably said that he was a policeman or something,” I had said, “and that I was at home waiting for her.”

That was all it had taken to convince Mr. Patel that a call to the authorities was of the utmost importance. It had also convinced him to break every speed limit in Providence. Even though he still diligently used his turn signals, he made each of the corners on two squealing tires, and the powerful engine of his taxi roared as he pressed the accelerator to the floor each time there was a straightaway. He even went around the barriers across the road at the construction site. The workmen had gone home early for the day because of the bad weather. I remembered hearing a story about how no one ever uses dynamite on a day when lightning might strike and set off a catastrophic blast. There was a single strip of undamaged road left that we sped down, past the idle equipment, including a truck marked EXPLOSIVES parked to one side, well away from the place where they had been blasting.

A quick turn, properly signaled, and we were back on the main road again. Aunt Lyssa’s house was only a little ways away now. Another taxi was coming down the street toward us. Had it just dropped my aunt at the house? I had my hand on the door handle. Roger was holding my other elbow, which was probably a good idea. I was so keyed up that I was ready to open the door and jump out, even though we were still a block away.

But as soon as we screeched to a stop, the most amazing thing happened. Mr. Patel threw the cab into park and turned it off in one motion, did what looked like a forward roll across the front seat, and went right through the passenger side window to land on his feet on the sidewalk outside the cab. As a result he was ahead of us, his arms outstretched to hold us back as Roger and I piled out of the cab.

“We should wait for the police,” Mr. Patel said, keeping himself planted firmly in front of us.

“No,” I said. “No!” I tried to push past Mr. Patel, and struggled to pull my elbow out of Roger’s firm grasp.

He nodded his head, seeing how frantic I was.

“All right,” he said. “But we shall go together, carefully.”