“Don’t forget those filings,” Tony bawled after her, and Rory replied with an absentminded nod of her head.
She slipped inside the warehouse’s darkened interior. Even with the sun streaking through the small grimy windows, the building was gloom-ridden and Rory had to pick her way with care. She had just reached the deeply shadowed area by the steps leading up to her office when she heard a strange noise.
She stopped. Someone was behind her, someone breathing hard. Before she could move or cry out, an arm seized her about the waist. The newspaper she had been carrying flew out of her grasp.
Rory drew breath to scream, but the sound died in her throat as a voice rasped in her ear. “No, Rory. Don’t! It’s me.”
“Zeke?” she quavered, her heart pounding, torn between hope and disbelief. She whipped about, her hands colliding with his chest. His face loomed above her, streaked with dirt and sweat, his dark hair disheveled, his eyes tired but glittering bright at the sight of her.
“Oh, Zeke, I’ve been so worried about you.”
She flung her arms about him, catching him in a fierce hug. Instead of returning the embrace, he flinched, sucking in his breath.
“Zeke, what’s the—.” She drew back, staring at her hand. It was streaked with blood. Horrified, her gaze flew to his crimson-soaked sleeve.
“Zeke! You’ve been hurt.”
“Shot. By the police.” He gave her a wan smile. “It’s been a helluva morning, Aurora Rose.”
“Don’t try to explain anything now. Just let me look at your arm.”
“It’s all right. The bleeding’s nearly stopped. I think the bullet passed through.”
Despite his protests, she tore away a section of his sleeve, working as gently as she could. He paled, clamping his teeth together. To her relief, she saw that he was right. Likely the shot had gone clean through, leaving a relatively neat hole through the fleshy part of his arm. Still he seemed to have lost a fair amount of blood.
“We have to get you to a doctor.”
“Not possible. The police are looking for me everywhere. I’m in a lot of trouble, Rory.”
“I know. I read about it in the papers.”
“The papers?” Despite the pain and exhaustion hazing his eyes, Zeke looked startled.
“Never mind about that now. I guess I’ll have to do what I can to bind up your arm myself. You stay right here.”
A foolish thing to say, for Zeke didn’t appear as though he were likely to go anywhere. She had no idea where he had been all this time. She only marveled at the strength that had brought him this far.
Hastening, she fetched water from the washroom behind the office upstairs and some strips of the silk material she used in sewing the balloon panels. When she returned, Zeke had sagged down on the bottommost stair.
But at her approach, he straightened, his eyes still keen and aware. He frequently clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath as she proceeded to clean the wound. But that didn’t stop him from asking questions.
“What’d you mean before— about the papers?”
Rory told him about the article that had appeared in the morning’s edition of the World.
Zeke grunted. “Damn that Duffy! How’d he get such a story and so fast? Someone’s not wasting much time.”
Rory ordered him to stay quiet while she bound up his arm. But it did no good, for Zeke continued. “Rory, I don’t know who is behind all this, but I swear to you, I am innocent.”
“Hush, Zeke. You don’t need to tell me that.”
“You ought to know all the dangers if you are helping me. Even the local police are involved.”
“O’Connell?”
Zeke nodded. “I should’ve listened to you last night. I think he plans to kill me and make it look like I was shot running away.”
“What are you going to do?”
