Callie’s body jerked in surprise at the exchange between the two. Anthony, her uncle’s best friend, was going to kill her? How could that be? She’d thought of him as a family member since she was a little girl, and now he wanted her dead.
She glanced around the room for a way to escape. With Dorothy and Anthony’s attention focused on Abby, they had moved away from her. She had to do something.
Think, Callie, she told herself. How can you get out of here? The door. If she could get to it and turn the bolt, she might be able to run down the hallway and out the back exit. Then down the alley and a block over to where Seth waited in a car.
She eased across the floor, reached for the lock’s button knob and turned it. To her relief, it made no sound as the bolt slid back into place. From across the room Abby cried out again, and Anthony slapped her. “Quit your crying.”
In one swift movement, Callie pulled the door open, ran into the hall and sprinted toward the exit door at the end of the hallway. She burst through the door into the darkness of the back parking lot where the staff kept their cars and turned to run in the direction where Seth waited.
“Callie, stop!” a loud voice demanded.
She skidded to a stop and whirled to see Marty Weaver standing at the edge of the parking lot with his gun drawn. New fear washed over Callie, and she turned to run. “No!” she screamed and bolted forward.
Too late she realized she had gone the wrong way when she ran from the building. It dawned on her suddenly when she plowed into the four-foot wire fence that ran from the back of the building along the property edge. The driveway into the parking lot lay on the other side of the shelter.
The impact of her collision knocked the breath from her and slammed her to the ground. Then she heard footsteps running toward her. She tried to get up, but her knees screamed with pain.
Marty Weaver dropped down beside her. “Are you all right?”
“No,” she shouted. “Get away from me.”
He looked over his shoulder. “What’s going on, Callie? Is someone after you?”
She frowned and shook her head to clear it of her muddled thoughts. “Aren’t you with him?”
“With who?” Marty asked.
Callie pushed up into a sitting position. “With Anthony.”
At that moment the back door of the shelter burst open, and Anthony ran into the parking lot. His eyes locked on her and Marty, and he started across the pavement, his gun leveled at them.
“Get away from her, Marty,” he said.
Marty rose to his feet and looked from him to Callie, a puzzled expression on his face. “I don’t understand. I was only helping her.”
Anthony cocked his gun. “I said get away.”
Marty took a step toward him, and Callie jumped to her feet. “No, Marty. Don’t trust him. He wants to kill me.”
Marty’s mouth dropped open, and he glanced at her before he looked back at Anthony. Marty raised his gun. “Captain, maybe you should take a step...”
Before he could finish his sentence, two gunshots rang out, and Marty staggered forward before he fell to the ground. Callie screamed and dropped to her knees beside him. Anthony ran to her, grabbed her by the arm and jerked her to her feet. “You shot a police officer, Anthony. How could you do that?”