Mama was a drunk.

The report had a sanitized feel, not exactly covering up but not telling the whole truth. On Monday, he'd call both schools and see what he could turn up. Now that they'd matched Nadine's fingerprints to Phoebe's, they'd have no trouble getting the necessary warrants.

Matt had left muttering something about shaking the dew off his lily. He came back on a run. "Silent alarm at TelTech. Police are responding."

So Bryn's source had played it straight. Jake silently cursed. He hadn't expected them to move this fast and only put together a surveillance plan a few hours ago. They'd all agreed it could safely be implemented tomorrow night at the earliest, since the owner, Peter Harding, had been alerted to a possible threat.

"So are we." Jake was up and heading for the door before the words were completely out. "Bryn know?"

"Alice is paging her." Matt checked his weapon and grabbed his suit jacket as they passed his chair on the way to the door. He shrugged it on while they waited for the elevator, which seemed to take a long time, then a longer time to work its way to the ground.

Alice and Bryn were waiting in the car for them with the motor running. Alice didn't wait for Jake to shut his door before she put the pedal to the metal.

Dewey didn't waste time finessing the roof access door, just kicked it open and followed Phoebe through, then turned, hunting for something to block the door with. There was always something available in the movies, but not for them. He could hear the labored, pounding footsteps of their unlawful pursuers and the distant wail of sirens approaching.

"You just had to call the cops, didn't you?" Dewey muttered as he followed her to the edge and helped her set up the rocket launcher and their last length of rope. She fired it, and he quickly secured it on their end.

Phoebe attached two handles and hopped onto the edge, her feet dangling over nothing.

Dewey helped her slip her pack back on. "You know I hate going out like this."

"Pretend we're astronauts and our rocket is about to blow." Phoebe grabbed the first set of handles. "Because we're not, but it is."

"No shit."

"Don't wait until I'm down or your ass is grass."

"I'll shake you off if I-"

"Just do it!" She went over the side, rushing through the cold air toward the dark stand of trees. No chance either of them would have a neat, or pain-free, landing this time. She was almost there when she heard a shout. The rope bounced violently from Dewey's additional weight. Her legs swung up over her head, breaking her grip. She experienced a brief sensation of out-of-control flight before she crashed into a tree.

His gun out, Farley raced to the edge where the guy went over and looked down. He could see the rope bouncing, but no sign of anyone on it. It was like the guy was invisible or something.

"Where they'd go?" Harley asked.

"Down, I guess. Should we go after them?"

"I'm not going down that rope." Harley peered over the edge, then flinched back. "Long falls don't agree with me."

Farley opened his mouth to agree, but before he could speak he realized what he was hearing. Sirens. Getting closer. "Oh, shit." He looked at the rope, then his hands. "This is gonna hurt."

"It doesn't have to." Harley ripped off one of his sleeves from the shoulder and looped it over the rope, then doubled wrapped his hands. He sat on the edge of the building, took a deep breath and launched himself into the void.

Sometimes Harley reminded him why Farley kept him around. Farley quickly followed suit. Might have been better to wait to see how his brother fared, he realized, when he saw flames spurt out from under Harley's shirt where it met the rope.

Chapter 13.

When Jake and the others arrived at TelTech, the police were still sweeping the building. The buzzing morass of official activity outside didn't prepare them for the eerie silence inside. No one knew where to turn on lights, so their flashlights joined a dozen other dancing, flickering beams around the dead. Added to this was a sick feeling in the pit of Jake's stomach at the violence.

Had Phoebe participated in this carnage? It didn't seem possible that she or Dewey Hyatt could have done this. He hadn't known Phoebe long, but he'd tracked Dewey off and on for years. Until Ollie's recent demise, never once had there been any sign of violence. And Phoebe? Did he want her to be guiltless? Was that blinding his judgment?

"This isn't right." Bryn slashed her beam back and forth over the scene as if it was a sword that could cut out the sight. "This isn't their style." Her lights stopped on the three guys not in uniform. "Who are these guys?"

"That one asked Phoebe for a job in her bar and got himself arrested. Estes PD could probably ID him."

Bryn looked interested, but he could tell she didn't know what it meant either.

Before Bryn could respond, Luke joined them. "They took the security tape with them." He rubbed his face wearily. "I knew one of the guards. He was retired PD. Wife, kids, grandkids."

Jake shoved his hands through his hair, the sick feeling growing until it started up his throat. Be embarrassing if he had to puke his guts. Hadn't done that since his first serial killing crime scene-a killer who was into torture. He swallowed hard and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Do we know what exactly they were after?" Bryn asked.

Luke shook his head. "We're waiting for the owner and,"-he consulted his notebook- "some guy named Barrett Stern, who's in charge of security, to get here."

"Hate to be him," Jake observed, glad for the change of subject.

"No shit." Luke shook his head. "What a mess."

"And yet..." Bryn did another sweep with her light. "...Not."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked, his frown deepening as he did his own sweep.

"No bullet holes in the walls. Both sides appear to have had remarkably good aim during a pitched gunfight." She showed them the walls with her light.

Jake looked at Luke. "Downright amazing."

Luke nodded thoughtfully. "Downright."

"Phoebe? Come on, girl, snap out of it."

The voice was Dewey's, but he seemed to be a long way away. Between her and him was this throbbing pain that seemed greatest, but not limited to her head. There was also a sense of motion, as if they were bouncing forward. A metallic creak and downward lurch vibrated through all her pain zones and narrowed the gap between them. "Don't make me take you to the hospital, girl."

A jerked stop, another creak, then she felt her hand taken and patted. Something cold and wet on her face. She crawled up out of the fog and opened her eyes. Dewey loomed over her, two worry lines cutting deep furrows between his eyebrows.

"What happened?"

"I bounced you off the rope."

"Oh." Memory returned in painful chunks. She touched her head. "I hit a branch or something." She took the cool rag he'd used on her brow and applied it to the swelling lump. "What happened to those guys who were after us?"

Dewey grinned. "They had a rough ride. Tried to slide down after us and caught the rope on fire. Last I saw, they were limping off into the night."

Phoebe grinned. It didn't hurt, so she decided to sit up. That did hurt. A lot. But it didn't kill her, so she didn't stop. "How's our hornet's nest?"

"Nicely stirred. Want to take a look?"