Twenty-OneFrom her chair perch, Angela stood with her mouth hanging open watching the police sergeant wave his g*n at the couple they'd just risked their lives to rescue. It was all she could do to find her voice. “What are you doing?”
“My job,” Vance said. “Stay out of it.”
The swinging doors opened and Paul, oblivious to the scene being played out, entered the hall from the kitchen. “She went out the back door,” he called out. “Hilda. She left the kitchen standing wide open. I've got it blocked back–” He froze in his tracks, taken aback by the sight of the tight-lipped sergeant drawing down on the newcomers. “What's going on?”
Vance ignored Paul, speaking instead to the half-dressed Goth couple. “Drop everything in your hands.” That amounted to the remainder of their clothes. They did
