Vendetta. Meredith Fletcher

      Out in the hallway under the bright fluorescent lighting, Marion felt light-headed. Panic ripped at her with sharp claws. Her legs trembled with the desire to run.

      The prisoner stayed close behind Marion. She felt the woman’s body pressed against hers. The warmth took away some of the chill of her damp clothing.

      Six deputies stood in the hallway with drawn weapons. Sickness swirled in Marion’s stomach. She forced herself to sip air.

      “Keep moving, muffin,” the prisoner ordered.

      “Y-you’re not h-helping your case,” Marion said. Embarrassment flooded her as she heard her stuttered words.

      The prisoner laughed. The sound was totally without mirth. “You sound like you’re still going to try me.”

      “I am. Y-you’re not going to g-get out of here.” Marion wished she could keep from stuttering. That would have helped her sound more convincing.

      “I’m going to get out of here,” the prisoner replied. “I don’t have a choice about staying here. If I stay here, I’m dead. There are people who’ll kill me long before you ever get me to trial.”

      Marion seized on those words and wondered what the woman meant by them.

      “If you play your cards right,” the prisoner went on, “you’ll get out of here, too.”

      “H-how do I know you w-won’t kill me like you did Marker?”

      “I don’t have a reason to kill you.”

      “What reason did you have to kill Marker?” Marion couldn’t believe she was asking questions with her life on the line. But she couldn’t be quiet and there were so many questions swimming in her mind.

      “That’s my business and none of yours.”

      “H-how did you f-find him?”

      The woman sounded irritated. “You talk way too much, muffin. This isn’t part of a guided tour. Keep your trap shut.”

      Sheriff Frank Keller stepped into view at the end of the hallway. He had a two-handed grip on his revolver and stood with his left foot forward.

      Marion closed her eyes for just a moment and resisted the urge to be sick. You’re going to lose that battle one of these times, she told herself.

      “Hold it right there,” Keller thundered. His pistol never wavered.

      Marion tried to stop, but the prisoner kept pushing her from behind.

      “Move,” the prisoner commanded.

      “You’re not leaving this building,” Keller declared. “If you don’t cease and desist this instant, I’m going to shoot you.”

      Disbelief swept over Marion. She stared at the cavernous mouth of Keller’s big pistol. Surely he was kidding.

      “Are you that good a shot?” the prisoner taunted.

      Marion knew the woman was crouched tightly behind her. She stared at the unwavering muzzle of the pistol Keller held. Bare inches of the woman had to be exposed.

      Keller’s face was cold stone. “I think I am.” He thumbed the hammer back on the pistol. “I’m not going to tell you again.”

      “I guess we’re going to find out how good you are,” the prisoner said, “because I can’t be here long. I’ve already over-stayed my welcome.”

      Knowing that she was trapped, Marion chose to take command of her fate. She rammed her head back into the prisoner’s face. Something crunched. The prisoner’s breath gushed out against the back of Marion’s neck.

      Reaching up, Marion caught her captor’s forearm and the loose folds of the jumpsuit just as the nightstick tightened and shut off her wind. She held on tight as she bent forward suddenly.

      The prisoner flipped over Marion’s back and slammed against the tiled floor. Blood streamed over the woman’s face as she gazed up at Marion in shock. The prisoner’s recovery was inhumanly quick, though. She pressed her hands against the floor, vaulted to her feet lithe as a cat and crouched.

      Marion backed away before the woman could come after her. She didn’t stop until she reached the wall behind her.

      “Down on your face,” Keller commanded.

      For a moment, the prisoner hesitated. Marion’s breath caught in the back of her throat as certainty that she was about to see the woman executed in front of her eyes surged within her.

      Then, with a wry smile through the blood, the prisoner dropped to her knees and put her hands on top of her head. She bent forward till she lay prone on the ground. The movement was fluid and effortless. Blood dripped from her nose to the floor.

      Deputies rushed forward and cuffed her as she lay on the ground.

      Marion stood on trembling knees, but she stood. She took pride in that. She also took pride in the fact that she’d saved herself in spite of everything.

      The prisoner gazed up at Marion in open appraisal. “Not bad, muffin. I didn’t expect that out of you.”

      “Get her to lockup,” Keller growled.

      The deputies hustled the prisoner away.

      Keller surveyed Marion. “Are you all right?” he asked.

      Marion nodded. “I think so.” Her stomach churned.

      “That was a nice move. Slick.” New appreciation showed in Keller’s hard eyes.

      “I took a class in jujitsu while I was in college.”

      “Jujitsu? I think they’re teaching that stuff to the federal agents.”

      Marion couldn’t help talking. She couldn’t keep quiet, but she didn’t want to talk about what nearly happened. Any topic was better. “Bruce Lee’s role on The Green Hornet got everybody interested in self-defense. I took it to fulfill a phys ed requirement. It was interesting. I was good at it.”

      “You were good at it today,” Keller said.

      Marion looked at the sheriff. “Would you have shot her?”

      The big man hesitated for just a moment. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve never had a prisoner escape. I wasn’t about to start this morning.”

      “And if you’d missed?”

      Keller smiled and shook his head. “I don’t miss. Truth to tell, Counselor, you just saved her life. Might have been easier all the way around if you’d have let me shoot her.”

      Marion couldn’t believe Keller was so casually discussing taking the life of another person. “Killing her isn’t an answer.”

      Surprise pulled at Keller’s features. “What do you think you’re going to be doing when you put that woman on trial, Counselor?”

      In the bathroom, Marion pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and patted her face dry. She looked at her reflection in the mirror.

      The nausea, thankfully, had subsided. She hadn’t thrown up even though she’d felt she would have once she’d reached the privacy of the bathroom.

      You’re okay, she reminded herself. Everything’s going to be all right.

      But Keller’s words haunted Marion. She knew she wasn’t going to be directly responsible for the woman’s death. Her actions, the physical evidence at the scene and the testimony of the witness were going to do that.

      She was just going to try the case.

      Not try it, she amended. Hopefully you’ll get to be part of it. She opened her blouse front and looked at the bruising across her neck and collarbone. After this, Turnbull had better let me on as co-counsel.

      She placed her purse on the sink and took out her