“You’re going to have to go in,” I told Marla gently. “As soon as we get there, I’ll call Tom to tell him you’re all right and to ask him to put out an APB on Albert Lipscomb. Listen,” I blurted out, “Macguire Perkins followed you because he wants to be a cop.…” No matter what Tom said, it still sounded dumb. “Anyway, Macguire’s at Lutheran Hospital. Out at that campsite, somebody hit him, too. You, Macguire, probably Tony, too—all attacked. Marla, we must call the police as soon as we get you some medical attention.”
“Oh, Tony, Tony.” Marla groaned his name as she inched her way out of bed. Her legs were so bruised and badly cut that I bit back a cry of dismay. Without further protest, she let me help her into a large navy blue dress that buttoned up the front. I found her a pair of red
