Page 91 of Return Ticket

She wondered where Hartridge was. It was possible he was still on his way, given the mayhem the fog was causing to traffic.

The killer turned to look at the still-open door thoughtfully, and began to back away.

“Harold Blythe, I presume?” James asked. “Or do you go by Linaker now?”

The shock on the killer’s face as he stumbled to a stop told Gabriella James had struck a direct hit.

“Why are you here, Gabriella?” James didn’t look at her, his focus was on Blythe, but she could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Tanner attacked me when I came out of the bathroom,” she said. “I thought I’d run to you, but then on the way, I heard the wheelbarrow, and followed him into the back garden.” She pointed down the side of the house. “The woman is still alive. I heard her groaning.”

Blythe took another few steps backward, spun, and ran toward the house. When he reached the door, he slammed it shut behind him.

James ran after him, fetching up against the door and yanking the handle. “Locked. The old man must have left the key in the door.” He banged his fist against it.

“Let’s go around the back.” Gabriella took a step and then stopped, taking in a deep breath to manage the pain.

“What is it?” James ran over and reached out to steady her.

“Banged my leg,” she said, and forced herself to start limping forward. She noticed a fallen garden statue on the ground, and realized she’d been tripped up by some sculptor’s rendition of either Eros or Cupid, complete with bow and arrow. She resisted the strong urge to kick it as she passed. “We need to hurry.”

“When I heard you shouting for me . . .” James shook his head as he helped her move a little faster.

“Sorry, but when I heard the wheelbarrow, I thought I had to follow it to find out where he was going, and when I heard the woman moan, I had to call out to you to distract Blythe, because he was coming toward her with a shovel.”

“He’s got a hammer somewhere on him, too,” James said, voice grim as they rounded the corner. “And now he’s in the house with the old man.”

The fog seemed to be thicker in the back, and there were no useful streetlights to diffuse the darkness. The downstairs light was still on, though, and that helped a little.

“The backdoor might be open,” Gabriella said quietly. “That’s where the old man first came out.”

James left her and ran toward it. As he put his hand on the handle it swung open, and Blythe exploded out, shovel half raised.

James jerked back, and Blythe misjudged his swing, missing James and staggering forward.

He didn’t see the two short steps down into the garden, and he tripped. As he fell, the shovel flew from his hand, and he rolled twice before he got up on his hands and knees.

James ran to stand over him, leaning down to grab one of his wrists, handcuffs in one hand. Blythe threw himself backward, trying to hit James in the face with the back of his head, and suddenly the two men were rolling around, grappling with each other.

Gabriella grabbed up the shovel, watching carefully for any sign of the hammer James had spoken about, but if he had it on him, Blythe was too busy wrestling with James to get it out.

She held the shovel handle two handed, looking for a chance to hit Blythe with it.

Blythe was shorter than James, but he was clearly strong, and fighting for his life.

From behind her, she heard the woman moaning again. She needed help as quickly as possible, and so did the old man, because Blythe had most likely attacked him, too.

She turned the shovel around, and brought the end of the handle down hard on Blythe’s leg, scared the shovel head might hurt James by mistake. She began to circle the two men, jabbing Blythe whenever she could.

James finally got him face down, one wrist in his hand, but Blythe twisted up, elbow slamming into James’s stomach.

James briefly lost his hold, rearing up and away, and Gabriella spun the shovel the other way round and brought the blade down hard on Blythe’s head.

He fell forward, and James grabbed his wrist again, snapped on the handcuffs, and wrenched his other arm back.

When he was finally secured, James leaned back on his heels, breathing hard.

“Thanks,” he managed.

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