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The falling tower of boxes had knocked Sandra sprawling into the clearing. She sat up rubbing her head. She heard moaning. The avalanche had taken out Calvin. She scrambled over to dig him out.
Sandra saw a flash of movement in her peripheral vision—it was pink, so this one wasn’t a cat—but she ignored it to help Calvin.
“You get him! I’ll go get Gertrude!” Bob said.
Couldn’t Bob have protected her from this particular injury? Her head was ringing. She hurried to pull the boxes off the pile they’d landed in, and some of them shifted beneath her hands as Calvin tried to wiggle his way out. She went as fast as she could, and then his head appeared. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” His level of anger suggested he was in good health. He tried to sit up and got stuck.
“Hang on.” She pulled another box toward her, but this one was heavy. She grunted as she yanked. “What is in this thing?”
“I think that’s where Gertrude keeps her cast iron cat collection.”
One of the boxes had opened, and a dozen pairs of sneakers had spilled out. Many of them still had tags on them.
Finally, Calvin was mostly free. She held out a hand to help him up, but he ignored it, so she turned and left him on the floor. She hurried down the hallway toward April’s voice. She rushed past the bathroom toward the bedroom, but then realized she’d gone too far. The stacks of boxes lining the hallway made it easier to backpedal than to turn around, so she did, smashing directly into Calvin as he reached the bathroom from the other direction.
“Ow!” he cried.
April let out a primal howl of rage. “What is wrong with you people?!” she screamed, completely unhinged. “Why can’t you mind your own business?”
Sandra stopped moving. She stood still, her hip pressed against Calvin’s hip, staring into the tiny bathroom, which was made smaller by the many items in it. Gertrude stood in the middle of the room leaning on her walker. She wore a thick, fluorescent pink bathrobe and an orange towel on her head. Cats swirled around her feet. One cat was not swirling and was standing with her hair raised, hissing at April, who held a rifle pointed at Gertrude. Her well-manicured finger was on the trigger.
“Easy, Monsoon,” Gertrude said to the protective cat.
Sandra hazarded a glance at April, whose eyes were wild with panic. Bob stood right beside her. He could easily grab the gun if he needed to. This sight was tremendously comforting, and Sandra exhaled before saying, “It’s all right, Gertrude. Don’t be scared.”
“It’s not all right!” Gertrude cawed. “This crazy dancing lady has a rifle!”
“I know.” Sandra boldly stepped into the bathroom. “But she’s not going to shoot us.”
April gave her a dirty look.
“I am so sorry for your loss, April. I don’t know, if I had been in your shoes, if I would have done any differently.” She knew she wouldn’t have changed her identity, moved across the country, and murdered two people, but she kept that to herself. “Lower your weapon, April. It’s over. You know you can’t kill all four of us before one of us gets you.”
“Four?” Gertrude cried, her head swiveling. “Are you dumb, or should your math teacher be fired?”
Pretty sure her most recent math teacher had long-since retired, Sandra tried to be patient with the woman she was rescuing. “Three. I meant three.”
April lowered her weapon a few inches. Now it was pointed at Gertrude’s short legs.
Gertrude took this as an opportunity. She let out a wail and charged at April, walker and all.
Surprised, April staggered back into the wall. Her left hand let go of the rifle to try to push Gertrude off her, but Gertrude had her pinned. She started jabbing her fist into April’s throat repeatedly. April made an awful choking sound and then brought the barrel of the rifle up against Gertrude’s head.
“Aggh!” Gertrude cried, falling back.
Bob caught and righted her, but Gertrude was too stunned to notice his help.
Furious, Monsoon hissed loudly and leapt at April’s face.
April screamed and brought her hand up to protect her face and staggered backward. The gun exploded, and the other cats bolted in a dozen different directions as Calvin lunged to grab the gun. Sandra looked around wildly to make sure no one had been hit. She checked the humans and then the cats but everyone appeared to be unscathed. She looked in the direction that the gun had been pointing and saw that April had blown a hole in a hanging hairdryer. Now that she was looking, she realized Gertrude had a dozen hairdryers hanging on the wall.
Calvin, looking like an experienced rifleman, pointed the gun at April, who was now crumpled against the wall, crying.
“Gert, call the police,” Calvin said.
“I’m not calling Hale,” Gertrude cried as if the idea were preposterous. She had her walker back under her and held one hand to her injured face. “He’ll find a way to blame me for this!”
“Call Detective Chip Buker,” Sandra said. “State Police.”
Gertrude looked at her as if she were stupid. “I don’t know that number. Do you? You’re so good with numbers.”
Sandra sighed. She really wished she hadn’t forgotten her phone. “I don’t have it memorized, but you can search for it—”
“Five-five-five ...” Bob started.
Sandra glanced at him, and then repeated the number. “I just remembered. Five-five-five—”
Suddenly suspicious, Gertrude glanced over her shoulder and then back at Sandra. “Who are you talking to?”
“I’m not talking to anyone. I’m telling you Chip Buker’s phone number.”
Gertrude looked in Bob’s direction again and then back at Sandra. “You’re lying.”
“Will you please call him?” Sandra snapped. She didn’t know if April would remain so docile for long.
“I can’t call him with you in my way.” Gertrude pushed her way to the door. “I don’t keep my cellular in the lavatory.” She went through the doorway shaking her head. “Unsanitary,” she mumbled as she left the room.
Sandra looked at Calvin, who was keeping his eyes on April.
“Why did you do it?” he asked.
“Wait for me!” Gertrude called.
