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The rope with its three-pronged anchor lay in the grass beside the wall.Becoming a Supple Leopard BY Kelly Starrett Finally, she was able to squeeze through the opening, her gun up and ready, but she didn’t see the man, only the black ground under a black sky, and the taillights of a car speeding away. She ran to the gate, punched in the code. I’m going after him!”Ĭonnie jumped up to grab the rope, but the man was already jerking it up and over the wall. She heard Natalie panting behind her, and yelled, “See to Hooley. The man grabbed the hanging rope and was nearly to the top of the wall when Connie emptied her magazine at him, but she wasn’t close enough, and she missed as he went over the other side. In a move so fast Hooley would swear he never saw it, the man sent a stiletto blurring through the air that struck him in his chest. The bullet slammed into the man’s side, throwing him back against the wall. The clown is lying to me.” In the same instant the man’s hand whipped up and he fired, missed, and Hooley fired back. He yelled, “Connie, go around and flank him to the right. Hooley heard Connie running toward them, still some distance behind. The man said, voice low, scratchy, “I don’t have a gun.” This close, I won’t miss you, even in the dark.” He was dressed in black, supple and stretchy, so he could move and climb easily. He was wearing a black ski mask over his head, all of his face covered except his eyes. Hooley came to a stop ten feet away from him and aimed his Beretta center mass. He stayed pressed against the stone fence, breathing hard, holding tight to the thick rope. He fired into the wall and yelled, “Stop right there, bozo! You’re not going anywhere.” Hooley saw the man some twenty yards ahead grab a rope that hung down over the stone fence. She jerked on a pair of sneakers and was in the tree only a few seconds after Connie, carefully navigating the branches until she dropped to the ground. “You stay right here, Natalie.” Connie climbed down from branch to branch as Hooley had done, in her dainty pink pajamas with little flowers, her Beretta in her hand. Hooley was wearing nothing but running shoes and pajama bottoms, his gun in his hand. He sprinted after a man running full-out toward the distant front of the property, straight to the high stone fence. The two women were at the window, watching Hooley as he climbed down from branch to branch and finally hit the ground. “He’s down below!” he shouted, and climbed out after him. Connie jerked her away from the window and pressed her down onto the floor, covering her. She yelled for him to stop and fired once, twice, three times, chipping off bark, but she didn’t hit him. She saw him climbing down through the branches in the huge oak tree outside her window. Natalie jumped out of bed and ran toward the window, threw back the curtains. The alarm blasted out, piercing, sharp, the pitch of police sirens in Europe, loud enough to shake her nearest neighbors out of a dead sleep. It wasn’t fear that surged through her, it was rage. She held the gun pointed at the window, her eyes focused on the curtains. Would the man outside her window hear it? It didn’t matter. “Big gun-is that really how you see yourself?”
“It’s only been three days since the big guns have come in on it.” Isabel is still off visiting her aunt in Florida for a week.” If he gets another call on that cell, we may get a chance to trace it in real time. Savich is keeping him there, along with Isabel’s cell phone. Well, that’s why she wrote about football and he was a cop. She’d forgotten about Carlos, forgotten he might recognize the voice.