Chapter Eighteen
Brownie wasn’t expecting it—a librarian who fights back. The gun went flying off into the darkness of the library parking lot and she gave a howl of pain from the glass dish’s impact on her arm. Maybe I’d broken it. At this point, I wasn’t waiting to find out. I grabbed Fitz’s carrier, pulled my keys out of my pocket, and got into my car as fast as I could.
I started up the motor with a roar and looked in my rearview mirror. I saw that Brownie was gone.
I picked up my phone and called Burton. “The murderer is Brownie. She just pointed a gun at me when I was locking up at the library. I hit her with something and she took off.”
“Got it,” said Burton in a grim voice. “She’s not going to get far. Don’t go home, okay? Just in case she knows where you live.”
So I headed ov
