A Dark and Stormy Knit (Black Sheep Knitting Mystery) by Anne Canadeo Page A

her purse and took her phone out, too. “I’m here . . . Did you hear that scream? It came from back there.” She pointed, hoping they could see her.
    “Lead the way. We’ll follow,” Dana called out. Maggie nodded and continued toward the sound.
    “Phoebe . . . where are you?” She strained to hear an answer. Anything. But there was suddenly silence. Not even the sound of footsteps.
    Maggie stopped in her tracks and sighed aloud.
    “Maggie . . . I’m over here,” she finally heard Phoebe answer. Maggie dodged to her left, finding her way around a large partition. Using the light from her cell phone, she soon spotted Phoebe in a black puddle of fabric on the floor, huddled against a wall of steel shelves. Most of the shelves held pale white ceramic pieces. But quite a few more lay broken on the floor, jagged-edged shapes scattered all around Phoebe. Maggie sneezed from the dust, her shoes crunching on broken pottery bits, as she crouched down to check on her.
    “Oh dear . . . are you hurt?”
    “I’m all right . . . Quentin gave me a shove and my boot got caught in the hem of my skirt . . . so much for formal wear. Isort of hit my head on this shelf thing,” she explained. “And a ton of stuff flew off and crashed on the floor.”
    “You’re lucky none of these pieces fell on top of you. Does it hurt anywhere?”
    Phoebe grabbed Maggie’s arm and hoisted herself off the dusty floor. Her lovely outfit was coated with white dust. “I’m okay, I think. I just got a little dazed.”
    “Dazed? You might have a concussion,” Maggie fussed. “Do you feel sick to your stomach, or dizzy?”
    Dana, Suzanne, and Lucy appeared. “Phoebe . . . are you all right?” Lucy asked.
    “Never mind me. I’m worried about Charlotte. She ran into the next studio. I tried to block the door, but Quentin pushed me down.”
    Maggie didn’t like hearing that. She hoped the boy didn’t have a weapon. He was certainly brawny enough to do damage to a little thing like Phoebe—or Charlotte—without one.
    Phoebe limped bravely toward the next door. Maggie quickly followed. “Wait. You can’t go after them alone . . . He sounds violent.”
    “That’s why she’s been trying to lose him. He gets crazy angry . . . and he’s very jealous . . .”
    Phoebe shouted the last few words over her shoulder as she pulled open the next door and disappeared.
    Maggie quickly followed. “Phoebe . . . wait! I’m coming with you . . . That kid is dangerous.” She turned back to her other friends. “Go back and make sure campus security knows where we are. Shouldn’t they be here by now?”
    “I’ll go,” Suzanne offered. “Dana might be needed for hostage negotiations—to talk some sense into crazy Quentin.”Maggie hoped that didn’t happen. But it was certainly possible.
    Suzanne turned and ran back toward the gallery while Maggie followed Dana and Lucy, who had run ahead, trying to keep up with Phoebe.
    “Don’t worry, Maggie. We can still see her . . . or at least hear her. She isn’t too far ahead,” Dana called back.
    Maggie followed. The next space was also dark and cut up into sections with partitions that only reached halfway to the very high ceiling. Now she smelled the distinct odor of oil paints. Did students still learn how to paint in oil these days? That was encouraging. She thought the whole world had gone acrylic.
    Passing halfway through the painting studio, she suddenly saw that big metal doors on the far side of the space had been pulled open. A section of the campus was framed in the opening.
    Phoebe came into view, and Maggie’s entire body sagged with relief. She was outside, near a walkway, her slim figure silhouetted in the light from a nearby lamppost.
    Before Maggie could call to her, a motorcycle engine revved and roared, the sound deafening.
    Maggie made it to the open doors just in time to see the shiny black bike fly down a sidewalk and swerve around a pair