“There must be a fire escape!” Ken thought. He swung his flashlight in an arc to pull Sandy toward the windows with him.
The first sash they tried slid up with a grating sound, but it was too late to worry about noise.
Ken’s heart gave a leap when he saw the rusty shape of the fire escape beyond it. They still had a chance!
In a split second they had both wriggled through the open window onto the grating. Ten feet below them, illuminated by the light from the rear windows of the Tobacco Mart, was a small paved back yard.
Sandy swung one leg over the railing, his big hands firmly gripping the rickety metal framework. Behind them they could hear footsteps pounding up the stairs.
Just as Sandy prepared to swing his other leg over, the back door of the shop below them flew open and Cal stepped out into the courtyard. A pistol glinted in his hand.
Sandy’s leg lifted over the railing and in the same motion he dropped. His feet struck Cal’s shoulders. The impact swung the man halfway around—and then he crumpled under the weight of Sandy’s body.
Ken landed beside him, miraculously on his feet.
“Through the store!”
Sandy was up and had taken a step after him when Cal’s flailing hand caught his ankle. Cal’s other hand, still clutching the gun, came up from the pavement in a great arc.