hid from the moonlight, scrabbling like a mole for the dark places.
A dog barked madly as she raced across someone’s yard.
Don’t let them hear, don’t let them come.
Don’t look back.
Something tore into her side. For a terrifying moment as she pitched forward, she thought she’d been shot. But she lay on the ground, drawing her knees in, the harsh whoops of her breath scoring her throat.
A cramp, just a cramp. But with it came a powerful surge of nausea. Pushing to her hands and knees, she gagged, wept, gagged, racked by dry heaves.
Shock, she told herself as her teeth chattered. Sweating and shivering at the same time, dizzy, nauseated, rapid pulse. She was in shock, and she needed to
think.
To warm herself, she rubbed her hands rapidly over her arms as she struggled to slow her breathing. She crawled over to retrieve the purse that had flown out of her hand when she’d fallen. She’d managed to hold on to it during the flight, so she comforted herself that she
had
been thinking on some level.
She needed to call the police; she needed help.
“Take out the phone,” she whispered, coaching herself. “Push memory one. Tell them … tell them…”
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“Help me. Can you help me?”
“What is the nature of your emergency?
“He shot them.” Tears flooded her eyes, all but drowned her voice. “He shot them, and I ran.”
“Ma’am, are you reporting a shooting?”
“He killed them. He killed Julie. I ran away.”
“I’m going to send help. Give me your location.”
“I don’t know where I am.” She covered her mouth with her hand, struggled not to break down. “I ran. I just ran. I think I’m near Lake Shore Drive. Wait. Will you wait? Don’t go.”
“I’m right here. What’s your name?”
“I’m Elizabeth. I’m Elizabeth Fitch.”
“Elizabeth, do you recognize anything? A landmark, an address?”
“I’m going to find one. I’m behind a house. A gray stone housewith turrets.” She limped toward the house, shaking violently when she stepped into the glow of security lights. “It has—it has a paved driveway, and a big garage. Decks, and—and gardens.”
“Can you walk to the street?”
“I am. I can see it. There are streetlights. If I go where it’s light and they come, they’ll see me.”
“Just keep talking. Keep your phone on, Elizabeth. We’re using your signal to find you.”
“I see an address. I see the numbers.” She read them off.
“The police are on their way. Help is coming, Elizabeth. Are you hurt?”
“No. No, I ran. I was outside when they came in. I was on the terrace. They didn’t know. They didn’t see me. He shot them. He shot them. He killed Julie.”
“I’m sorry. Where did this happen?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get the address. It was on Lake Shore Drive. We shouldn’t have gone there. We shouldn’t have gone to that house. Julie’s dead.”
“Who is Julie, Elizabeth?”
“Ju— Julie Masters. My friend Julie. A car’s coming. I have to hide.”
“It’s the patrol car. It’s help.”
“Are you sure?” Panic crushed her chest, shut off her air. “Are you sure?”
“They’re on the radio right now, approaching the address. I’m going to tell them to turn on the bubble light. You’ll see it.”
“Yes. Yes. Oh, God. I see it.” She stumbled forward, into the light. “Thank you.”
“You’re safe now, Elizabeth.”
They wanted to take her to the hospital, but when she grew only more anxious, they took her to the station. She huddled under the blanket one of the officers wrapped around her shoulders, and continued to shiver in the back of the patrol car.
They took her to a room with a table and chairs. One of the officers stayed with her while the other went to get her coffee.
“Tell me what happened.”
He’d given her his name, she remembered. Officer Blakley. He had a stern face and tired eyes, but he’d given her a blanket.
“We went to the
A dog barked madly as she raced across someone’s yard.
Don’t let them hear, don’t let them come.
Don’t look back.
Something tore into her side. For a terrifying moment as she pitched forward, she thought she’d been shot. But she lay on the ground, drawing her knees in, the harsh whoops of her breath scoring her throat.
A cramp, just a cramp. But with it came a powerful surge of nausea. Pushing to her hands and knees, she gagged, wept, gagged, racked by dry heaves.
Shock, she told herself as her teeth chattered. Sweating and shivering at the same time, dizzy, nauseated, rapid pulse. She was in shock, and she needed to
think.
To warm herself, she rubbed her hands rapidly over her arms as she struggled to slow her breathing. She crawled over to retrieve the purse that had flown out of her hand when she’d fallen. She’d managed to hold on to it during the flight, so she comforted herself that she
had
been thinking on some level.
She needed to call the police; she needed help.
“Take out the phone,” she whispered, coaching herself. “Push memory one. Tell them … tell them…”
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”
“Help me. Can you help me?”
“What is the nature of your emergency?
“He shot them.” Tears flooded her eyes, all but drowned her voice. “He shot them, and I ran.”
“Ma’am, are you reporting a shooting?”
“He killed them. He killed Julie. I ran away.”
“I’m going to send help. Give me your location.”
“I don’t know where I am.” She covered her mouth with her hand, struggled not to break down. “I ran. I just ran. I think I’m near Lake Shore Drive. Wait. Will you wait? Don’t go.”
“I’m right here. What’s your name?”
“I’m Elizabeth. I’m Elizabeth Fitch.”
“Elizabeth, do you recognize anything? A landmark, an address?”
“I’m going to find one. I’m behind a house. A gray stone housewith turrets.” She limped toward the house, shaking violently when she stepped into the glow of security lights. “It has—it has a paved driveway, and a big garage. Decks, and—and gardens.”
“Can you walk to the street?”
“I am. I can see it. There are streetlights. If I go where it’s light and they come, they’ll see me.”
“Just keep talking. Keep your phone on, Elizabeth. We’re using your signal to find you.”
“I see an address. I see the numbers.” She read them off.
“The police are on their way. Help is coming, Elizabeth. Are you hurt?”
“No. No, I ran. I was outside when they came in. I was on the terrace. They didn’t know. They didn’t see me. He shot them. He shot them. He killed Julie.”
“I’m sorry. Where did this happen?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t get the address. It was on Lake Shore Drive. We shouldn’t have gone there. We shouldn’t have gone to that house. Julie’s dead.”
“Who is Julie, Elizabeth?”
“Ju— Julie Masters. My friend Julie. A car’s coming. I have to hide.”
“It’s the patrol car. It’s help.”
“Are you sure?” Panic crushed her chest, shut off her air. “Are you sure?”
“They’re on the radio right now, approaching the address. I’m going to tell them to turn on the bubble light. You’ll see it.”
“Yes. Yes. Oh, God. I see it.” She stumbled forward, into the light. “Thank you.”
“You’re safe now, Elizabeth.”
They wanted to take her to the hospital, but when she grew only more anxious, they took her to the station. She huddled under the blanket one of the officers wrapped around her shoulders, and continued to shiver in the back of the patrol car.
They took her to a room with a table and chairs. One of the officers stayed with her while the other went to get her coffee.
“Tell me what happened.”
He’d given her his name, she remembered. Officer Blakley. He had a stern face and tired eyes, but he’d given her a blanket.
“We went to the
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