Night work (42 page)

"Roz, I swear to you, on anything I hold precious. On
Lee's head, if you like: Even if I could, I will not do anything
with what you tell me."

The injured woman said nothing, but eventually, her eyes holding
Kate's, she nodded, and the faint twist of a smile, affectionate
and admiring, came across her mouth. Yes, it was Maj.

"Roz, I love the two of you. I owe you both one hell of a lot.
So I'm not even going to ask for the names of the women who did
the actual assaults--which I assume that Maj had nothing to do
with, considering the shape she's in at the moment." The
image of Maj Freiling, seven months' pregnant and dressed as a
ninja assault warrior armed with a roll of duct tape, danced through
Kate's mind, nowhere near as impossible as she would have wished.
She pushed the image away, but she knew it would return at unlikely
moments. "I want you to tell Maj that if she stops now, if she
closes down the Ladies and doesn't attack any more men, I
won't go any further with it. But she's got to stop.
Now."

Roz held her eyes, and nodded again. Kate sat back, palm still clasped to palm, satisfied.

Roz's eyes drooped and then shut, which Kate hoped meant that
she had drifted off, but after a minute Roz said, "Still, it was
a great Campaign while it lasted, wasn't it?"

Kate struggled to keep her face straight, and failed. "I
hope--" she began, and then snorted loudly, startling the
ambulance attendant. "I hope you guys bought stock in duct tape
before you started." The alarmed paramedic stared at the two
injured women with the tears starting down their faces, and fumbled
hastily for his bag.

At the hospital, Roz was whisked away, and Kate put off treatment of
her own burns to phone Lee. She told her to bring Maj to the hospital,
reassured Lee that her own burns were minor, put down the receiver, and
looked up to see Al Hawkin furiously shouldering his way through
uniforms and nurses alike. He stopped when he saw her standing
there-- half her hair burnt to a frazzle, her shirtsleeves
scorched and covered with ash, stinking to high heaven, her left
forearm wrapped in the paramedic's gauze--and most of the
storm clouds left his face.

"God damn it, Martinelli, don't do that to me. Lee would
wrap those crutches of hers around my neck if I let anything else
happen to you."

She tried to stir up some resentment at his protectiveness, but failed. She did manage a stir of feeble humor, however.

"Oh, you know me, Al. I like my cases to end with a bang."

And on the other side of town, in a pool of blood on the wall of the shelter for battered women, dark Kali smiled.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

laurie R. king lives with her family in the hills above Monterey Bay
in northern California. Her background includes such diverse interests
as Old Testament theology and construction work, and she has been
writing crime fiction since 1987. The winner of both the Edgar and the
John Creasey Awards for Best First Novel for
A Grave Talent,
the debut of the Kate Martinelli series, she is also the author of five mysteries in the Mary Russell series, including
The Beekeeper's Apprentice,
and most recently,
O Jerusalem,
as well as a thriller,
A Darker Place.
She is at work on her eleventh novel,
Folly.