Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I scooted as far as I could to the other side and then kicked again. The wood splintered and the leg dropped. The hutch remained in place. I scrambled up and pulled the rope free before taking a deep breath. “All right. Where’s your phone?”
“Hey, untie me.”
“I’ll untie you after I get your phone.” The woman had attacked me twice, and I didn’t trust her not to do it again. “Or I’ll just leave and go get help.”
Her eyes spit fury at me. “Unless they took it, my phone is in the back office on top of my desk.”
God, I hoped they hadn’t taken it. I walked between many booths, noting the carnage. The Cupids hadn’t been gentle when they yanked things off shelves and walls. Shattered glass covered most surfaces. I made my way to the back office to see it tossed. Lisa’s phone was nowhere in sight.
Using my knee, I hitched open her top drawer to find scissors. This would hurt, but I turned and grasped them, trying to cut my hands free. Pain sliced into my wrists, but the rope loosened, and soon I could twist free.
Wincing, I let the rope drop and pulled my arms around to see my wounded wrists. “Do you have bandages?” I yelled.
“No,” she bellowed back.
Great. Searching the office, I found a box of tissues and pressed several against my wounds to stem the bleeding.
My body aching, I returned to her booth. I don’t know why my knee hurt, but it was suddenly killing me. I must’ve twisted it somehow. “Your phone isn’t back there. Where’s the nearest business or home?”
She sighed. “There’s a gas station about a mile down the way. It’s pretty deserted, but old Harry’s usually behind the till. Are you going to release me?”
I thought about it. “No, I’m not.” With that, I limped toward the door. Hopefully Harry was working today.
Two elderly women walked inside, chattering happily about finding the perfect wedding gift for somebody named Allison as they shook snow off their coats on the mat. I stopped walking and hovered, not wanting to startle them. In unison, they silenced and looked at me. The tallest one screamed and laboriously pulled a humungous silver-barreled revolver out of her wide crocheted purse.
I froze. “Whoa.”
Her hand shook on the obviously heavy weapon. She was about my height and slender beneath her black wool coat, the long sleeves partially covering her hands. “Don’t move.”
“I’m not.” I took a deep breath. “That’s the biggest handgun I’ve ever seen.” I wasn’t a Dirty Harry fan, but I was fairly certain I saw him wielding one of those on a commercial for an old movie.
She nodded vigorously, her faded green eyes wide and curled white hair bobbing. “It’s a Smith & Wesson 500 revolver. I borrowed it from my grandson, George.”
I had absolutely no idea why George would need that much firepower. “Is your grandson here?” I wouldn’t mind a voice of reason.
She snorted. “No. He’s working. Today is a workday for most folks your age. But not you. You robbed this place.”
My head dropped to note the disaster of stains, now including blood, on my wool coat. “I didn’t rob anybody.” Holding my hands up, I let the bloody tissues float to the floor. Except one. That one remained stuck to my injured right wrist. “The Cupid gang came in and robbed us. They tied us up, and I just got free.”
“Help me,” Lisa called out.
The armed woman swung her gun down the hallway. “Who’s that? Is this a trap?”
I sighed. “No. That’s Lisa. She owns the place. I’m Anna Albertini. What’s your name?”
The second woman, who had to be in her late seventies, narrowed her gaze. She was under five feet tall with short, white hair, dressed in an overflowing gray coat that nearly brushed her ankles. “Albertini? Like Elda?”
Hope burst through me. “Yes. Elda is my nonna.”
She pulled a cell phone from her right pocket and pressed a button.
“Hello,” Nonna answered.
“Hi, Elda, it’s Martha,” the older woman said. “Tricia has a gun pointed at a woman who says she’s your granddaughter, but she’s at the antique store covered in what looks like paint, ink, dirt, and blood.”
Nonna sighed. “That is most likely my Anna.”
I nodded wildly. “Hi, Nonna. It is me, and we were just robbed by the Cupid gang.”
“Again?” Anger coated Nonna’s words. “Tricia? You turn that gun away from my granddaughter, or I’m bringing my spoon to the barn raising this spring. Don’t think I won’t do it.”
All three of us winced. Nonna was well known for keeping a wooden spoon in her purse to clap people’s heads.
Tricia slowly lowered her shaking arms and sighed in relief. “Sorry about that. Can’t be too careful, you know?”
I finally breathed. “I know. Do you mind calling the police?”
Chapter 19
I sat on the hospital bed with my knee elevated and covered in ice as the nurse finished bandaging my wrists. Detective Pierce had taken one look at me and insisted upon bringing me to the hospital. He’d tried to call an ambulance, but I refused. Finally, he gave up and had a patrol car bring me. I was sure he had broken all sorts of rules.