Dying to Please Read Free

bare feet; darn it, she hadn't thought to put on a pair of shoes while she was upstairs.
    Sliding into the driver's seat, she grabbed the tiny cell phone from the cup holder where she kept it and pressed the “on” button, waiting impatiently as it cycled through its program, then pressing the numbers with her thumb as she gingerly retraced her steps over the flagstones and went back into the house.
    “Nine-one-one.” The answering voice was female, calm, and almost bored.
    “There's a robbery at Twenty-seven-thirteen Briarwood Road,” she said, and started to explain the situation, but the 911 operator interrupted.
    “Where are you calling from?”
    “At the same address. I'm on the cell phone because they cut the phone lines.” She skirted the kitchen island and entered the breakfast room.
    “You're in the house?”
    “Yes. There are two men—”
    “Are they still in the house?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are they armed?”
    “I don't know. I didn't see any weapons, but they cut the power line to the house, too, so I couldn't really tell in the dark if they were armed or not.”
    “Ma'am, if you can, get out of the house. I have patrol units en route to the location and they should arrive in a few minutes, but you should get out of the house now.”
    “Send an ambulance, too,” Sarah said, ignoring the operator's advice as she entered the hall and added the beam of her flashlight to that of the Judge's, playing it over the two men on the floor. She doubted either of them was capable of leaving under his own steam. The cries of the one under the television had subsided into mingled moans and curses. The one she'd punched in the temple hadn't moved at all.
    “An ambulance?”
    “A big television fell on one of the men, and may have broken his legs. The other man is unconscious.”
    “A television fell on them?”
    “Just one of them,” Sarah said, strictly honest. She was beginning to enjoy the phone call. “It's a fifty-five-incher, so it's really heavy. Both of them were trying to carry it out when one guy tripped and the television fell on him. The other guy landed on top.”
    “And the man the television fell on is unconscious?”
    “No, he's conscious. The other one is the one who's out of it.”
    “Why is he unconscious?”
    “I hit him on the head.”
    Judge Roberts glanced around and grinned at her, and managed to give her a thumbs-up with the hand holding the flashlight.
    “So both men are incapacitated?”
    “Yes.” As she spoke, the unconscious one moved his head a little and groaned. “I think he's coming around. He just moved.”
    “Ma'am—”
    “I have him tied up with phone cord,” she said.
    There was a tiny pause. “I'm going to repeat what you said to make sure I have it straight. One man was unconscious, but now he's coming around, and you have him tied up with phone cord.”
    “That's correct.”
    “The other man is pinned by a fifty-five-inch television, and may have broken legs.”
    “Correct.”
    “Cool,” Sarah heard someone in the background say.
    The 911 operator remained professional. “I have medics and two ambulances en route. Is anyone else injured?”
    “No.”
    “Do you have any weapons?”
    “One, a pistol.”
    “You have a pistol?”
    “Judge Roberts has the pistol.”
    “Please tell him to put the pistol away, ma'am.”
    “Yes, of course.” No sane police officer wanted to walk into a dark house when someone inside was holding a pistol. She relayed the message to Judge Roberts, who briefly looked mutinous, then sighed and put the pistol in a drawer of the buffet. Considering the condition of the two thieves, holding a gun on them wasn't necessary, even if it did appeal to his macho instinct.
    “The pistol has been put away in a drawer,” Sarah reported.
    “Thank you, ma'am. The patrol units will be there momentarily. They will want to secure the weapon, so please cooperate.”
    “No problem. I'm going to the door now to wait for them.” Leaving