The Sleeping Doll

take you to CBI. Just leave everything and come with me.” The other deputy was outside, looking around the parking lot.
    Sam said into the phone, “It’s the deputy, Kathryn. We’re leaving now.”
    They hung up.
    Samantha grabbed her purse. “Let’s go.” Her voice was shaking.
    The deputy, hand near his pistol, nodded them forward.
    At that moment a bullet struck him in the side of his head. Another shot, and the second deputy grabbed his chest, slumping to the ground, crying out. A third bullet struck him as well. The first officer crawled toward his car and collapsed on the sidewalk.
    Linda gasped. “No, no!”
    Footsteps were running on the pavement. Daniel Pell was sprinting toward the cabin.
    Sam was paralyzed.
    Then she leapt forward and slammed the door, managed to get the chain on and step aside just as another bullet snapped through the wood. She lunged for the phone.
    Daniel Pell gave two solid kicks. The second one cracked the lock on the door, though the chain held. It opened only a few inches.
    “Rebecca’s room!” Sam cried. She ran to Linda and grabbed her arm but the woman stood rooted in the doorway.
    Sam assumed she was frozen in panic.
    But her face didn’t look frightened at all.
    She pulled away from Sam. “Daniel,” she called.
    “What are you doing?” Sam screamed. “Come on!”
    Pell kicked the door again, but the chain continued to hold. Sam dragged Linda a step or two closer to Rebecca’s bedroom but she pulled away. “Daniel,” Linda repeated. “Please, listen to me. It’s not too late. You can give yourself up. We’ll get you a lawyer. I’ll make sure you’re—”
    Pell shot her.
    Simply lifted the gun, aimed through the gap in the door and shot Linda in the abdomen as casually as if he were swatting a fly. He tried to shoot again but Sam dragged her into the bedroom. Pell kicked the door once more. This time it crashed open, smashing into the wall and shattering a picture of a seashore.
    Sam closed and locked Rebecca’s door. She whispered fiercely, “We’re going outside, now! We can’t wait here.”
    Pell tested the bedroom knob. Kicked the panel. But this door opened outward and it now held firmly against his blows.
    Feeling a horrifying tickle on her back, sure that at any moment he’d shoot through the door and hit her by chance, Sam helped Linda to the windowsill,pushed her out, then tumbled after her onto the damp, fragrant earth. Linda was whimpering in pain and clutching her side.
    Sam helped her up and, holding her arm in a bruising grip, guided her, jogging, toward Point Lobos State Park.
    “He shot me,” Linda moaned, still astonished. “It hurts. Look . . . Wait, where are we going?”
    Sam ignored her. She was thinking only of getting as far away as she could from the cabin. As for their destination, Sam couldn’t say. All she could see ahead of them was acres of trees, formations of harsh rock and, at the end of the world, the explosive, gray ocean.

Chapter 53
    “No,” Kathryn Dance gasped. “No . . .”
    Win Kellogg skidded the car to a stop beside the two deputies, sprawled on the sidewalk in front of the cabin.
    “See how they are,” Kellogg told her and pulled out his cell phone to call for backup.
    Gun in her sweating hand, Dance knelt beside the deputy, saw he was dead, his blood a huge stain, slightly darker than the dark asphalt that was his deathbed. The other officer as well. She glanced up and mouthed, “They’re gone.”
    Kellogg folded up his phone and joined her.
    Though they’d had no tactical training together, they approached the cabin like seasoned partners, making sure they offered no easy target and checking out the half-open door and the windows. “I’m going in,” Kellogg said.
    Dance nodded.
    “Just back me up. Keep an eye on the doorways inside. Scan. Constantly scan them. He’ll lead with the gun. Look for metal. And if there’re bodies inside, ignore them until the place is clear.” He touched her arm. “That’s important. Okay? Ignore them even if they’re screaming for help. We can’t do anything for anyone if we’re wounded. Or dead.”
    “Got it.”
    “Ready?”
    No, not the least bit. But she nodded. He squeezed her shoulder. Then took several deep breaths and pushed through the doorway fast, weapon up, swinging it back and forth, covering the inside of the cabin.
    Dance was right behind him, remembering to target the doors—and to raise her muzzle when he passed in front of