Madeline was pacing like a madwoman, whispering curses under her breath, eyes locked on the unconscious heap of a man on her floor. Her heart was pounding in her throat, the bloodied skillet still warm in her hand. She didn’t even hear the front door slam open.
Maggie barged in first, umbrella in one hand, pepper spray in the other, looking ready to fight a gang of ninjas. Norma followed, armed with something far more dangerous than an umbrella-her firearm.
“What the—” Maggie started, then froze when she saw the doubled-over body.
“Oh my God.”
Norma didn’t even blink. She crouched beside the man like she was inspecting a home appliance that had just exploded. “Is he dead?” she asked, deadpan.
Madeline didn’t answer. She was still pacing, fists clenched at her sides, eyes glazed with
