Rachel Alexander 04 - Lady Vanishes

in our direction, his hands covered with paint and dirt, one of them cradling something against his chest. Even though it was covered by his hands, very little of it showing, and what was exposed was covered with dirt, I knew what it was, the only thing it could be. And as I watched, horrified, Jackson went over to Nathan and handed him what he was holding, the way he’d given me back Dashiell’s leash when I’d dropped that.
    Nathan took the bookend, and his mouth slid into a sneer.
    “So there it is,” he said. “I wondered where it had gone.” He turned toward Jackson; for some bizarre reason, I thought it was to thank him. Instead, he grabbed him and pulled him in front of him as a shield.
    “Watch out,” I screamed, too late. “Keep him out of this. This is between us.”
    “Are you going to shoot me now, Rachel?” he taunted. He had one arm around Jackson’s throat. In the other hand he held the bookend. He brought it up, ready to strike. “I didn’t realize quite how hard I had to do it last time,” he said. “I won’t make that same mistake twice. That David. He’s really been on a rampage lately, since Dad cut his medication. First Venus, then Jackson. Why don’t you put down the gun now?”
    But before I could, something dark and unyielding came from behind me and knocked the gun out of my grasp. I heard a cracking sound, something breaking, the garden tilting it seemed, swaying first one way, then another. There was another sound, the gun skittering across the bricks and stopping, but I couldn’t look. Something else caught my eye. The dogs. They had both jumped into the garden through the window some careless person had left open, Dashiell first, Lady right behind him.
    Samuel was bending, to try to get the gun, and Nathan was telling him to grab me, so that David could strike again—David, who wasn’t even there.
    My temperature seemed to shoot up, and my right arm felt numb, but my mind was clear.
    “Lady, walk-up,” I shouted. “Walk-up, good girl.” Samuel was reaching for the gun. I kicked as hard as I could, connecting with his face, dead center.
    Jackson was still being held as a shield. No matter. I had a plan, too. And mine also included teamwork.
    “Dashiell, paws-up,” I yelled, pointing at Jackson, and with Lady right behind Nathan, where I’d positioned her, Dashiell flew into Jackson, hitting his chest with the force of a sledgehammer, sending him, and Nathan, backward, falling over Lady and landing on the brick. I heard the satisfying clunk as Nathan’s head hit the unforgiving garden floor, and as soon as I saw that Jackson was fine, cushioned by Nathan’s enormous bulk, I took my eyes off them, kicked Samuel once more for good measure, and with my left hand retrieved my gun from under the table.
    “Watch them,” I told Dashiell, seeing his body start to vibrate with the pleasure of being presented with a task he was magnificently up to.
    I slipped the gun into my pocket, offered my left hand to Jackson, helping him up and out of harm’s way, then pulled out my cell phone, asked Jackson to hold it up for me, and dialed the precinct.

Chapter 38
    Be Seeing You, I Told Her

    After sitting in the emergency room for two and a half hours waiting for the doctor to look at my arm, then another hour waiting for the X ray to be taken and read, I had the cast put on my arm. It was a soft cast, layers and layers of thick gauze covered with stretchy purple tape and a no-nonsense sling, navy with an ecru trim. When I looked at my reflection in the big window, it resembled a hammock.
    The pills they gave me had started to kick in, replacing the pain with a sense of euphoria. A few more minutes, and I could have played baseball, using the arm as a bat.
    By the time I was released, it was dark out. I stopped in the gift shop for some candy bars to tide me over and went upstairs to Venus’s room.
    She was sitting up, looking wildly beautiful, that long dark hair framing her pretty face, a magazine across her lap. When she looked up, her hands flew to her mouth.
    “What happened?”
    “Samuel hit me with the business end of a shovel. But you ought to see the shovel.”
    “You promised after we talked you were going to the police.“
    “I couldn’t. Not after last time. Not until I had it all.“
    „You could have been—”
    “But I wasn’t,” I told her, sitting on the edge of the bed, crossing my legs so that I could lean the arm on my right thigh, give my neck