“There’s no one here,” Korotkii told him from the doorway.
“There was. Find her.”
4
She ran blindly, eyes wideand glazed, breath ripping out of her lungs in sobs and gasps. She couldn’t release the scream clawing at her throat. They might hear. If they heard, if they caught her, they’d kill her.
Like Julie.
She fought her instinct to run for the street. There could be more of them, more like Ilya. How could she know the car she flagged down wasn’t one of them? How could she know if she beat her fists on the door of a house, one of them wouldn’t answer?
She had to run, get away as far and as fast as she could. She had to hide.
If there was a fence, she climbed it. If there was a hedge, she pushed and fought her way through. When the ground scraped and tore at her bare feet, she choked back the cries of pain. She 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 shelay 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 tothink.
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 shehadbeen 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 house with 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?”
