Nat felt beside the door for a switch, then stopped herself. If she turned on a light, he would know where she was. Rain thundered on the metal roof, louder than outside. She spun around, wiping her face clear of rain and muck. She was in a cavernous, dark space. She smelled sawdust and rubber, then spotted white poles lying on the ground. It was an indoor riding ring.

She went around the perimeter, feeling the walls, looking for a phone. She found the outline of a doorway and hurried inside, her hands outstretched. She was in a small office. She almost fell into a desk chair while she felt around on the desk, scattering papers and a stapler. A phone would be on the right; most people were right-handed. It was, one of those big multi line phones. She grabbed the receiver and punched in 911.

No dial tone. She tried again. Still nothing. She hit buttons until she realized what was wrong. The electricity must be out because of the storm. The phone didn’t work without the power. She looked around for a cell phone. Maybe someone had left one behind. She felt around the desk. Were there keys to a car? A truck? She knocked over a mug of office supplies, grabbed a pair of scissors, and shoved them in her coat pocket. She ran out of the office, tore across the riding ring like a thoroughbred, and bolted for the door. Then she stopped, panting. Rain poured from a black sky. There were no lights anywhere. Now she knew why. No power. No moon. No nothing. She squinted, trying vainly to see anything. Back toward the road stood the dark outline of another structure, hidden behind a line of trees.

She took off, barreling through the field. Maybe it was a barn. All these horses had to live somewhere. Maybe there would be a barn manager. A cell phone. A car. Rain thundered down. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Where was the shooter? Why had he told her to run? Was he coming after her? She ran closer to the structure. The roof had a peak like a star. A barn, Amish-built. New hope drove her forward, half sprinting and half falling. There had to be a house, didn’t there?

She ran across the field, reached the barn, and caught her breath under the overhang. She hurried through an empty horse stall, rolled aside the door, and hurried into a center aisle. She looked right, then left. Rain pounded on the roof. She darted down the aisle, looking for civilization. She opened a closed door. A line of trash cans glimmered in the faintest light. She ran out, found another door, and flung it open. It felt warm inside. The smell of old leather filled the room. Saddles sat on racks on the wall. How could one family have so many saddles? Then she realized. It was a riding school. That’s why no one was here. There would be no house. She almost burst into tears.

She bolted out of the room, down the concrete center aisle, and found no more doors. She went back to the last stall because its window overlooked the dark pasture. She’d have a clear view if the killer had run after her. In the corner of the stall, a large horse lay still in a bed of hay, its gray white coat glowing softly in the dark.

“Ho, fella,” Nat said softly, surprised that the horse didn’t move. She entered the stall. She could see the Volvo through the window, not far from here. The horse nickered, and she heard congestion in its breathing. No wonder it hadn’t moved. She stroked its muzzle, and it leaned against her hand like a big dog, begging to be scratched.

“Are we gonna be okay?” Nat scratched the hard bone between its dark eyes, feeling herself begin to calm down and think more clearly. The killer wasn’t coming after her or he would never have let her go. It could be a while before anybody drove along and found the trooper. Getting back to her car was her only hope. She gave the horse a final pat, then let herself out of the stall.

She plunged back into the storm, racing for the Volvo. She pounded through mud and slush, her heart pumping hard against her chest. There was no noise but rain. She ran until she couldn’t run another step, up the hill to the road. The Volvo was parked, its engine still running. She could see the murdered trooper, his arms lying askew in the street. She intentionally didn’t look at his head. She darted across the street to her car, flung open the door, jumped inside, and hit the locks, shaking and dripping.

She floored the gas and reached for her purse at the same time, digging for her cell phone as she tore down the road. She found the phone and pressed speed dial for 911, but in the next minute, the Volvo interior was bathed in headlights. Police sirens erupted behind her, and she almost cried for joy. She slowed to a stop, parked, and threw open her door.

“Help! Police!” Nat practically popped out of the car.

“Hands in the air! Get your hands in the air!” Two troopers jumped from the police cruiser, one from each door. Suddenly, a second cruiser careened around the corner and sprayed to a stop in front of the Volvo, sandwiching her in between. Sirens screamed. High beams blinded her. Two more troopers jumped out of the second cruiser.

“Hands in the air!” they shouted, advancing toward her with guns drawn.

“Don’t shoot!” Nat shouted back, raising her arms. “I was calling you—”

“Against the car!” a trooper bellowed, and two others grabbed her by her forearms and threw her facedown against the Volvo, wrenching her wrists behind her back.

“No, wait!” Nat yelped in pain. Steel handcuffs were clapped onto her wrists. Hands ran up her legs to her crotch, then down her hips and waist. She tried not to panic. “This is crazy! I was just calling you! This man came out of nowhere—”

“What’s this, a knife?” The trooper bumped her against her car and shoved a hand in her coat pocket.

“Scissors. What are—”

“We’re taking you in for questioning in connection with the murder of Trooper Shorney.”

“The trooper?” Nat felt her heart beginning to pound. “No, wait, I saw the guy who shot him. I can tell you—”

“And for the attempted murder of Barbara Saunders.”

“What?” Nat felt stricken. Rain thundered down. She couldn’t believe she’d heard him right. “Did you say, Barb? What happened to Barb?”

“Do we have your permission to search your car?”

“Go ahead, just tell me what happened to Barb.”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of—”

“Wait, why are you Mirandizing me? I didn’t do anything!” Nat shouted. “I saw the man who killed the trooper! I would never—”

“—law. You have the right to a lawyer and to have a lawyer present during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do anything!” Nat shouted louder, as the other troopers searched the front and backseats of her car.

“Let’s go!” Two troopers flanked her and hustled her to the patrol car. Two others were searching her backseat, shining their flashlights inside.

“You’re making a mistake! I’m a law professor!” Nat howled against the rain, and she didn’t stop until they shoved her into the backseat of a cruiser.

And sped off into the dark, drenched night.