Dead Guilty

was after midnight before Diane returned home. Star had come home on time, and Diane had to con fess, it was a relief to see her walk through the door. Diane tried to imagine what it would have been like waiting up for Ariel to come home from a date, and her eyes misted over. She sometimes still cried into her pillow too.
The policemen were on duty, parked in front of her house. She parked and got out with the coffee and doughnuts she’d gotten for them on the way back and handed them through the window.
‘‘Thanks. We appreciate this.’’
One of the policeman walked her to her apartment, apologizing along the way. ‘‘Jim and I are just really sorry about the mix-up last night.’’
‘‘This whole business has all of us baffled,’’ said Diane. ‘‘I appreciate your being here.’’
He walked with her inside and to the stairs before going back to his car. Diane decided that there may be something to the theory about getting to a man’s heart through his stomach.
She walked up to her apartment and went in. It was stuffy. She hated running the air-conditioning when she wasn’t there, but this wasn’t good either. She turned on the air and went to the bedroom, changed and settled into bed.
She was almost asleep when a voice out of the dark ness said, ‘‘I really want to talk to you.’’

Chapter 36
    Diane didn’t realize she had shot out of bed until she was halfway out her bedroom door. She made it to the front door and grabbed at the safety latch. Too slow. He grabbed her from behind and held her in a tight grip. She got out half a scream before a hand clamped over her mouth.
    ‘‘I just want to talk. I’m not going to hurt you.’’
    Diane kicked, but with bare feet she did little dam age. Dammit, I’m stronger than this. She wrenched her body around, throwing them both to the floor. She hit her head on the hard floor, stunning her for a second, but her body was on automatic. She scrambled to her feet and raced for the bedroom, intending to lock her self in and call 911. But he was too fast. Before she could close the door, he hit it with enough force to knock her backward. She fell to the floor and rolled under the bed.
    She saw the shadow of him on his knees grabbing for her, sliding under the bed after her. She rolled out, got to her feet, grabbed the radio on her nightstand and brought it down on his head as he crawled out from under the bed.
    His struggle to rise was hampered by still being half under the bed. She hit him again, harder, dropped the radio and ran. The safety was unlatched from her first attempt at escape so all she had to do was turn the locks and bolt from her apartment. As she ran down the stairs, she hoped the police hadn’t decided they had to go somewhere else. She ran down the walk and into the street, each step hurting her bare feet. Half way across the street the police saw her.
    ‘‘What is it?’’ they shouted.
‘‘He’s in my apartment.’’
‘‘Stay here.’’ They jumped from the car and Diane
    climbed in the backseat, breathing hard. Bile rose up in her throat and she felt sick to her stomach.
    Diane wore a fleece short-sleeved nightshirt that came halfway between her knees and thighs. The last place she wanted to be was in the back of an unmarked police car dressed in sleepwear. Damn him.
    A gunshot echoed through the air. Oh, God. She put a hand on the door and started to open it, then stopped. She was still undecided on whether to get out. One of the policemen came running.
    ‘‘We got him. An ambulance is coming, but I’m not sure he’ll make it.’’
Diane felt sick all over again. ‘‘Can he talk?’’
‘‘He’s in and out.’’
‘‘I need to ask him some questions.’’
‘‘I don’t know.’’
‘‘In case he dies, I need to ask him some questions.’’
‘‘Okay. I suppose it’s all right. You are a member of the department, after all.’’
Diane thought he’d like to add a rather troublesome member . She ran back up to her apartment, where the other policeman had a towel on the intruder’s chest. Diane knelt down by his side. ‘‘Can you hear me?’’
‘‘Just wanted talk. Not a murderer. Exec . . .’’ His breathing was labored and he started to cough. ‘‘Can’t trust the police.’’ He closed his eyes and lapsed into unconsciousness.
He was still alive but unconscious when the ambu lance came and took him to the hospital. Diane sat on her couch in a pair of jeans and the nightshirt, waiting