The redhead’s fist shot downward toward Cal’s stubbled chin. The hand on Sandy’s ankle loosened its grip. The gun clattered to the concrete just as Cal’s head thumped heavily against the same hard surface.
Sandy spun around and ran after Ken.
One after the other they hurdled a large carton that stood in their way, swerved around a pile of shipping containers, tore through the door into the outer shop, and lunged toward the front exit. Ken’s fingers reached for the knob.
But before he could touch it the door opened inward, knocking him back on his heels. Sandy cannoned into him from behind.
Grace’s square middle-aged figure was outlined in the doorway. The gun in his hand was steady. He brought it forward until it nudged against Ken’s chest.
“Back up,” Grace said quietly. “It’s more private in the rear of the store.” Without turning his head he addressed Barrack, who had come up behind him. “Tell Andy to stay on guard outside. Then come back here. We have to decide what to do with these two snoopers.”
CHAPTER XIII
A DESPERATE PLAN
“Where’s Cal?” Grace said sharply.