Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

their first time. But Mitchell never mentioned it again, and Julia could never be sure how he'd react to a seductive surprise. Turned out he was the one full of surprises.
    She was glad to be rid of that reminder of their flawed relationship, but there was the immediate problem of the teddy's disappearance. Did a Creep sneak into her house for the sole purpose of digging through her naughties? Was he, at this very moment, parading around in the negligee, shivering and swelling with a secret thrill?
    Julia sensed the eyes on her again. Paranoia, she knew. And yet—
    She turned to the window.
    Two bright glints, reflecting the light of her room. Staring between the lace of the curtains.
    The eyes faded back into darkness as Julia's breath caught. Then she heard a shout, the breaking of tree limbs, and a grunt of pain as bodies slammed against the siding and fell to the ground.
    "Quit it, or I'll break your arm," someone shouted.
    Julia stood undecided for a moment. Then she reached under the bed, got her Louisville Slugger, and ran to the window. In the rectangle of light cast into the back yard, she saw two men struggling on the ground. She gave the Louisville Slugger a little test swing. It was easier to handle than a wooden lamp.
    God, I’m getting better with all this batting practice.
    Julia hurried through the house, stopped in the living room to grab a flashlight and stuff the mace in her pocket. Feeling a little braver gripping the baseball bat, she went out the kitchen door to the side of the house. She edged around the corner into the back yard, shining the flashlight ahead of her.
    "Get off me," one of the struggling figures yelled.
    The two had rolled to the trees that grew near the house. Julia pointed the light at them, but her hand was trembling so much that she couldn't see their faces. "Who's there?" she said, but her voice was lost amid the sound of scattered leaves and grunts.
    She raised the bat, hoping to be menacing, and tried again. "Who the hell is it?"
    "Julia!" gasped the man who was currently on top.
    " Walter ?"
    She held the light more steadily and saw that the man on bottom was pinned, belly down, his arm behind his back. Still his legs flailed, and he twisted like an eel on a spear. His face mashed against the dirt, bits of leaves stuck to his hair. Walter straddled his back, a bronco rider whose steed had collapsed.
    Walter grimaced with effort as he tugged the man's wrist up to the shoulder blade. The man groaned sharply.
    "I'll snap it," Walter told him. "I've wrestled a steer or two in my day, and if I can handle them, I can surely handle the likes of you."
    Walter gave an extra push to emphasize his point. The man lay still, breathing heavily.
    Julia approached slowly, stopping a few feet away. "What's going on?" she asked, not sure which of the two she should be prepared to slug with the bat.
    "Call the police," Walter said, blinking into the flashlight's beam.
    "You didn't answer me," she said, fingers clenched around the bat handle.
    "He—" Walter panted. His face was strained, and she wondered if he really could keep the other man pinned. The man on bottom seemed younger and just as strong as Walter.
    "I saw him climb out your window," Walter said. "Right, scumbag?" he said to the man beneath him.
    The man turned his face toward the forest, away from the light.
    Julia backed up slowly and ducked inside, still holding the bat. She dialed 9-1-1 from the living room, carrying the phone so she could watch through the window. Walter was still on top.
    "Communications," came the clipped male voice.
    "Yes, sir, I'd like to report a—"
    "Yes, ma'am?"
    What? A Creep ? She thought of all the false reports she'd filed in Memphis, how the Metro cop had ridiculed her. She tried out the copspeak she'd learned as a crime reporter. "There's an altercation in progress."
    "Altercation. You mean a fight?"
    "Yeah."
    "Any weapons involved?"
    "Not that I can see. But you better hurry."
    "Could you confirm that address, ma'am?"
    "102 Buckeye Creek Road, in Elkwood."
    The man on the ground flopped like a beached fish, but Walter held on.
    "Yes, ma'am," said the communications officer. "I'll send a patrol car right away. Say, you live near Mabel Covington, don't you?"
    Julia sighed into the phone. What was next, a recipe swap? "You may want to dispatch an ambulance, too."
    "Why? Is somebody hurt?"
    "Not yet, but may be." Especially if you don't hang up and get on the damned radio.
    "You where you're