Page 121 of Don't Cross Mo Ellery

I point to myself and pretend to look surprised.

“You heard me,” she says.

“What’s going on up there, guys?” Benny calls from the sinkhole. “Sounds pretty bad, actually!”

“Shut up, I can’t think when you’re whining,” Leslie says, kicking a pebble into the sinkhole.

While she’s briefly distracted, I open my eyes real wide at Merle,who openshiseyes wide back atme. I mime dialing a phone, but he just looks confused. I mouthcall 911, and he mouths back something that looks likeI am a hamburger.

AmIcrazy? How iscall for helpnot his primary goal?

Who voted for this guy?

I carefully pick my way over to the fence Tond mowed down and give it a good once-over.

“Just a lot of cement so far!” I update Leslie, giving a thumbs-down.

“Keep looking,” she says.

I hold up a shovel. “How about this?”

“Nice try,” she says. “That’s an amateur murder tool.”

“How about you,Merle?” I ask. With me over here, Merle’s out of his wife’s line of sight. He couldsodial 911 right now and be a national goddamn hero.

So I throw him a bone—“Merle, what’syour call? Ninepieces of cement orone...oneshovel?”

He shrugs. “Whatever thetwoof you think is best.”

I scowl, mentally giving him the award for worst hostage, and I realize his reluctance to actuallydoanything reminds me of Chris. Maybe I really am better off without him.

“Hurry up,” Leslie yells again.

Not that I’ll ever get to tell him that if I can’t stop this self-empowered murderer.

After poking around, I find a crowbar next, and in a sort of Hail Mary, I hoist it up to my ear as if it’s a phone.

“What is that?” Leslie asks.

“A... crowbar,” I say. “I was joking around,pretending it was a phone.”

Merle just blinks.

“That’ll do,” Leslie says and waves me back over.

And my dumb idea has officially backfired. Instead of providing a distraction while Merle called for help, now I’m just literally handing weapons to Leslie.

UnlessIhitherwith the crowbar first, I guess? But my aim isn’t great and I might hurt Hannah. If only Leslie would just get that needle out of her neck.

Time for Plan B.

By which I mean, time to come up with Plan B.

I’m almost back to the sinkhole when the whole situation sinks to an even lower ring of hell. Across the street from us, the school bell blares, announcing the end of the school day—and the imminent arrival of a whole bunch of innocent children I have sworn to protect.

Shitballs.

Leslie spins around as kids start to trickle out of the building, and Hannah shrieks as the needle goes a bit deeper.