4th of July - James Patterson [71]
I blinked in the blackness and saw a red blur shoot across my vision. It was the afterimage of that red Porsche and it called up snatches of the disturbing scenes I’d had with Agnew. The set-to at the Cormorant and the one at Keith’s garage. The near collision on the road.
I was still thinking about Agnew. It was the only thing that explained the sensation of being watched.
I was about to get up and go to my room for what remained of the night when a series of hard pops and the sound of splintering glass shattered the still night air.
Shards of the window fell all around me.
Gun! Gun! Where the hell was my gun?
Chapter 109
MARTHA’S REFLEXES WERE QUICKER than mine. She dove off the bed and crawled under it. I was right behind her, rolling onto the floor while riffling through my shocked mind, trying to remember where I’d put my weapon.
Then I knew.
It was in my handbag in the living room, and the closest phone was there, too. How could I be so vulnerable? Was I going to die trapped in this room? My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
I lifted my head just inches off the floor and by the faint green light of the VCR clock, I took inventory.
I focused on every surface and object in the room, looking for something, anything, I could use to protect myself.
The place was littered with big stuffed animals and a dozen dolls, but there wasn’t a single baseball bat or hockey stick, nothing I could use in a fight. I couldn’t even throw the TV, because it was bolted to the wall.
I pulled myself across the hardwood floor on my forearms, reached up, and locked the bedroom door.
Just then, another fusillade of shots rang out—automatic gunfire raking the front of the house, again striking the living room and the spare room at the end of the hall. Then the true intent of the assault finally sunk in.
I could have been—should have been—sleeping in that bedroom.
Inching forward on my stomach, I clasped the leg of a wooden chair, pushed at it, angled the chair onto its rear legs, and wedged its back under the doorknob. Then I picked up its twin and swung it against the dresser.
With a length of chair leg in my hand, I crouched with my back to the wall.
It was just pathetic. Forget the dog under the bed, my only line of defense was a chair leg.
If anyone came through the door aiming to kill me, I was dead.
Chapter 110
AS I LISTENED FOR the sound of feet on the floorboards outside the bedroom, I imagined the door being kicked open and me swinging at the intruder with my stick, hoping to God that I could somehow knock his brains out.
But as the VCR clock blinked away the minutes and the silence grew longer, my adrenaline ebbed.
And I started to get mad.
I stood, listened at the door, and when I heard nothing, I opened it and worked my way down the long hallway, using doorways and walls as barricades.
When I got to the living room, I grabbed my bag from where it leaned against the sofa.
I reached in and closed my hand around my gun.
Thank you, God.
As I called 911, I peeked through slits in the window blinds. The street looked empty, but I thought I saw something glinting on the front lawn. What was it?
I told the dispatcher my name, rank, and shield number, and that shots had been fired at 265 Sea View.
“Anyone hurt?”
“No, I’m fine, but call Chief Stark on this.”
“It’s already been called in, Lieutenant. The cavalry is on the way.”
Chapter 111
I HEARD SIRENS AND saw flashing lights approaching Sea View. As the first cruiser arrived, I opened the front door, and Martha bolted past me. She ran over to a snakelike object that was lying in the moonlight.
She gave it a sniff.
“Martha, what have you found? What is it, girl?”
I was hunkered down beside Martha when Chief Peter Stark got out of his squad car. He walked over with his flashlight and knelt down next to me.
“You okay?”
“Yep. I’m good.”
“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.
Together,