Something heavy hit Dane in the back, sending him sprawling on the ground. He rolled to his feet with a savage snarl, his fist drawn back. Trammell picked himself up, as fast as Dane, and grabbed his arm. “Get control of yourself!” Trammell roared, his face as savage as Dane’s. “You won’t help her by going in blind! Do it the way you know it’s supposed to be done!”
Uniformed officers were swarming around the house, surrounding it. All Dane could think of was Marlie inside. He shook Trammell off and plunged at the door. It was locked. He threw himself at it like a maddened animal, the force of his weight making it shudder in the frame. It was a solid door, reinforced with steel. The dead-bolt lock was one of the best made. It held. The hinges didn’t. The screws ripped out of the wood with a tortured shriek, metal twisting.
Seeing he couldn’t stop Dane, Trammell added his considerable strength to the task, and helped him wrench the door out of the frame. Hoarsely screaming Marlie’s name, Dane pitched himself into the dark bowels of the house.
He stumbled over something soft and heavy, and crashed to the floor. His heart stopped beating, for a long, agonized moment that froze in time.
“Oh, God,” he said, the voice not recognizable as his. “Get a light.”
One of the patrol officers took his long, heavy flashlight out of his belt and thumbed the switch. The powerful beam illuminated Dane, crouched on the floor with a look of frozen horror on his face, and Trammell, who looked almost as bad. In the center of the beam sprawled a black-clad figure, the shaven skull gleaming dully. He was on his back, and his sightless eyes stared upward. The stench of blood and death was overpowering. A black pool of blood had gathered around the body.
“Dane.” The almost soundless whisper raised the hairs on their arms. “Dane, I’m here.”
The flashlight beam swung wildly toward the corner, and Marlie flinched from the light, closing her eyes and turning her head away. Dark wetness glistened on the white of her shirt. She still held the pistol, both hands clasped around it.
Dane couldn’t manage to get to his feet. He crawled to her, his mind still unable to believe that she was alive. He cupped her cheek in a shaking hand, and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Baby. Oh, God, honey.”
“He cut me,” she said, as if apologizing. “I shot him, but he didn’t stop. He just kept coming. So I kept shooting.”
“Good,” he said with barely restrained savagery. His hands were trembling wildly, but with the utmost tenderness he lowered her to the floor. “Just lie down, honey. Let me see how bad you’re hurt.”
“I don’t think it’s serious,” she said judiciously. “It’s the top of my shoulder, and my left side. But it’s just cuts; he didn’t stab me.”
He was barely holding himself together. Only the knowledge that she needed him now kept him from throwing himself on the body and tearing it to pieces. God! This was the second time in her life a madman had attacked her with a knife. How could she be so calm, when he was shaking apart?
“He cut the wiring,” she was saying. Suddenly she sounded exhausted. “I’m very tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll tell you all about it later.”
“Sure, baby.” He pressed the heel of his palm over the oozing cut in her side. “Go to sleep. I’ll be with you when you wake up.”
She gave a little sigh, and her heavy eyelids closed. Dane was aware of the house filling with people, but he didn’t look up.
“Dane.” It was Trammell, kneeling beside him. “The medics are here, buddy. You need to move back so they can help her.”
“I’m stopping the bleeding,” he said in a hoarse voice.
“I know. It’s almost stopped. She’s going to be all right, partner. Everything’s going to be okay.” Trammell wrapped his arms around him, easing him away from Marlie. The medics moved to take his place. “We’ll go to the hospital with her, but she’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Dane closed his eyes and let Trammell lead him away.
“I really do feel well enough to go home,” Marlie said the next morning. She yawned. “It’s just that I’m tired from fighting off the vision.”
“And from loss of blood,” Dane said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
She was propped up in bed, and except for the thickness of the bandages on top of her shoulder and at her waist, it was difficult to tell there was anything wrong with her, though to Dane’s critical eye she was still far too pale.
He had been at the hospital with her all night. If he lived to be a hundred and fifty, he’d never forget the absolute, bone-chilling terror of those minutes when he had realized that he had been lured away, and left Marlie unprotected. It had taken him a lifetime to get back to her, and cost him another lifetime in the effort to get into the house. The hospital had been a zoo, with cops everywhere and reporters fighting to get in to talk to Marlie, and Dane had been totally unable to cope with it. All he had been able to do, once the doctors had let him get to her again, was hold her hand and try to reassure himself that she was really all right.
Trammell had taken over; he had handled the reporters, categorically denying them access to “Marlie’s room but promising a news conference later in the morning. He had deflected Bonness and Chief Champlin away from Dane. He had called Grace, who had brought fresh clothes and toiletries for both Dane and Marlie. Dane had showered and shaved, but the haggard lines in his face revealed the toll the night had taken on him. If it hadn’t been for Trammell, he wouldn’t have made it through the night.