so. The door is shadowed by the other-side of the building. We crack it open
only wide enough to ease through.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll work it out, but that’s as far as I’ve planned yet. Get dressed.”
They dressed in silence. She could hear the wet slap of his clothing as he maneuvered to get
the items on. With the lights off, she hoped whoever was watching the door wouldn’t notice the
movements. They needed to make a quick pit stop at the car, and then they could move on.
Hopefully, she would be able to watch the town’s skyline in her rearview mirror.
The warmth of his palm seeped into her neck muscles where he held her. “You ready?”
Malia nodded, shut off the bedside lamps, and they dropped to the floor to duck walk to the
door. She slid the chain off and cracked it open. When nothing happened, she pulled it farther
into the room. The muggy heat swept in and blew across her face. She reached to make sure her
gun was still snug at the small of her back. On an inhale, she tilted her head to look around the
doorjamb. The walkaway was empty, and the night quiet. She exhaled and eased around the
threshold, keeping close to the wall. With a click , Paul closed the door as he left.
She didn’t look behind her to confirm it, but she felt Paul’s presence. Slowly, she led him
toward the second stairwell at the end of the hall. Footsteps stopped her; Paul plowed into her
back. She threw her hand behind her, slapping him on the chest. Malia plastered herself to the
wall and felt him do the same. The policeman’s head popped up over the stairs. She wrapped her
palm around the Beretta 9 millimeter, taking comfort in the feel of cold hard steel. Paul’s hand
covered hers, and he shook his head when she glanced his way. He motioned his head toward the
railing, and she shook her head violently.
His eyes widened behind the lenses, and he pushed her deeper into the shadows, covering
her with his body. The cop was humming, taking his time. He stopped at the top of the landing,
placed his hand over the butt of his gun, and meandered toward their room. His shoulders were
hunched, and a look of stoicism now masked his face. He didn’t notice them in the corner. Malia
looked over Paul’s shoulder and saw three more police officers coming from the opposite
direction.
She placed her lips on his ear. “If that many men came up on that side, you can bet your
microscope there are more guys at the foot of those stairs.” She threw up her chin to indicate
where they were headed.
“I know. When they enter the room we can climb over the railing, hide in the pool.” Paul’s
voice was low.
“I’d rather shoot it out than hide in that muck.”
He sighed. “Honestly, that stuff is probably closer to what penicillin is made of than
anything else.”
“I’ve been with you long enough to know what antibiotics are made of, and mold can make
you sick.” She narrowed her eyes.
A cop called out, announcing himself. They turned their heads in unison. Flashlights were
raised. Another officer at the back of the group produced a small battering ram. The first man
yelled out an ultimatum. They raised the thick metal bar high in anticipation, and streetlights
reflected off its surface as the men swung it. The crack of wood shattering split the quiet. Fire
flared briefly, and a slim spiral of smoke circled above the silver can before it was tossed into the
room. A bright flash lit the night, and a heavy miasma drifted out as the throng of men
disappeared into the haze.
“Now.” Paul rose quickly, turning to grab her hand.
He pulled her up, and they crossed the hall to the railing. Paul threw his leg over the
wrought iron. Holding her arm, he helped her over the banister and finished climbing across.
They stood gripping the handrail, and Malia looked down in the dark pit of black water. Behind
her, she could hear the cops calling out to each other. Can we say overkill? She raised her
only wide enough to ease through.”
“Then what?”
“I’ll work it out, but that’s as far as I’ve planned yet. Get dressed.”
They dressed in silence. She could hear the wet slap of his clothing as he maneuvered to get
the items on. With the lights off, she hoped whoever was watching the door wouldn’t notice the
movements. They needed to make a quick pit stop at the car, and then they could move on.
Hopefully, she would be able to watch the town’s skyline in her rearview mirror.
The warmth of his palm seeped into her neck muscles where he held her. “You ready?”
Malia nodded, shut off the bedside lamps, and they dropped to the floor to duck walk to the
door. She slid the chain off and cracked it open. When nothing happened, she pulled it farther
into the room. The muggy heat swept in and blew across her face. She reached to make sure her
gun was still snug at the small of her back. On an inhale, she tilted her head to look around the
doorjamb. The walkaway was empty, and the night quiet. She exhaled and eased around the
threshold, keeping close to the wall. With a click , Paul closed the door as he left.
She didn’t look behind her to confirm it, but she felt Paul’s presence. Slowly, she led him
toward the second stairwell at the end of the hall. Footsteps stopped her; Paul plowed into her
back. She threw her hand behind her, slapping him on the chest. Malia plastered herself to the
wall and felt him do the same. The policeman’s head popped up over the stairs. She wrapped her
palm around the Beretta 9 millimeter, taking comfort in the feel of cold hard steel. Paul’s hand
covered hers, and he shook his head when she glanced his way. He motioned his head toward the
railing, and she shook her head violently.
His eyes widened behind the lenses, and he pushed her deeper into the shadows, covering
her with his body. The cop was humming, taking his time. He stopped at the top of the landing,
placed his hand over the butt of his gun, and meandered toward their room. His shoulders were
hunched, and a look of stoicism now masked his face. He didn’t notice them in the corner. Malia
looked over Paul’s shoulder and saw three more police officers coming from the opposite
direction.
She placed her lips on his ear. “If that many men came up on that side, you can bet your
microscope there are more guys at the foot of those stairs.” She threw up her chin to indicate
where they were headed.
“I know. When they enter the room we can climb over the railing, hide in the pool.” Paul’s
voice was low.
“I’d rather shoot it out than hide in that muck.”
He sighed. “Honestly, that stuff is probably closer to what penicillin is made of than
anything else.”
“I’ve been with you long enough to know what antibiotics are made of, and mold can make
you sick.” She narrowed her eyes.
A cop called out, announcing himself. They turned their heads in unison. Flashlights were
raised. Another officer at the back of the group produced a small battering ram. The first man
yelled out an ultimatum. They raised the thick metal bar high in anticipation, and streetlights
reflected off its surface as the men swung it. The crack of wood shattering split the quiet. Fire
flared briefly, and a slim spiral of smoke circled above the silver can before it was tossed into the
room. A bright flash lit the night, and a heavy miasma drifted out as the throng of men
disappeared into the haze.
“Now.” Paul rose quickly, turning to grab her hand.
He pulled her up, and they crossed the hall to the railing. Paul threw his leg over the
wrought iron. Holding her arm, he helped her over the banister and finished climbing across.
They stood gripping the handrail, and Malia looked down in the dark pit of black water. Behind
her, she could hear the cops calling out to each other. Can we say overkill? She raised her
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