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Had the door not been firmly latched? Had those treacherous wind currents opened it?

Or had someone come into the dark, closed store?

Moving softly, Wendy stepped in and off to the side. She stopped and listened, and heard it—a footstep.

A man walked through the shop, passing between her and the windows. A man Wendy recognized. As if the mention of his name had brought her nightmare to life, it was the same Bill from 1940—that man exactly, even to the dark, dirty, rumpled suit.

Vince walked through the arch, not bothering to be quiet or stealthy.

Wendy’s heart stopped.

If Bill was in the building, Vince wanted him to know he was there. He wanted to shield the families hiding in the other room behind the bookshelves.

Just as before, Bill pulled a pistol and pointed it at Vince. An automatic pistol, this time.

Just as before, their figures were silhouettes in the dark.

Just as before, Vince held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Bill, come on. Be calm.”

“My son!” Bill’s voice vibrated with menace and madness. “He’s my son to exploit and you got in the way!”

This time, Wendy didn’t have to take off her heels; her running shoes would work.

This time, the result would be different.

She took a quick breath, then ran, intent on using that turning kick to take out the pistol and slam Bill’s head to the ground . . . before he even realized she was there and on the move.

Vince flicked a glance her way, and spoke louder. “Bill, listen. Roy is better without you.”

“My wife. I own that woman, she left me, she betrayed me, how dare you try to keep her from me—”

Wendy was almost on Bill, lifting onto her toes, ready to leap.

Bill saw movement, turned in a fast, jerky move. He pointed the automatic pistol at her and—

I’m going to die.

I’m going to die, now, when I’ve met Hugh, or Vince . . . whatever his name is, he holds my heart and I don’t want to wait another lifetime before I meet him again.

Bill’s eyes narrowed, the gun steadied on Wendy, his finger tightened on the trigger.

Vince hit Bill with the same turning kick she intended to use, knocking his aiming arm high.

Bullets spattered the ceiling above Wendy’s head and the pistol flew through the air.

Wendy’s kick caught Bill across the side of his face and snapped his head sideways. Bill flipped and hit the floor. He didn’t stir.

Wendy skidded, put her hand on the floor to steady herself and came to a halt, gasping with the remnants of terror.

Bits of gilt-painted ceiling showered down on her.

Her gaze sought Vince and found him scooping up the pistol, looking at her, nodding his admiration and relief.

Swiftly, terror returned, and she ran toward the book room calling, “Are the kids okay? Is everyone—”

She barreled into Deputy Dave. He caught her, put her aside and said, “Everyone’s safe.” He headed toward Bill’s prone body.

Ariel followed at full speed, flipped on the light, pulled a small pistol from her bag and aimed with a steady hand at Bill.

Wendy had never seen that ferocious expression on Ariel’s face, and had never imagined what she kept in that stupid handbag.

Deputy Dave took the handcuffs his wife offered, rolled Bill onto his stomach and used his handcuffs to secure him . . . and surreptitiously checked him for signs of life. “He’s alive.”

Wendy knew she was supposed to be glad. Mostly, she was relieved because . . . this time, the result would be different. She’d actually thought that when she first laid eyes on Vince, but when Bill pointed his firearm at her, in that split second, she had realized how different the result could’ve been. With that many bullets in his automatic pistol, Bill could have killed them all.

Frantic parents and excited kids boiled out of the book room.

Roy pointed at his father and told Deputy Dave, “Arrest him!”

“He’s unconscious, son, but when he comes to, I’ll read him his rights. Will that do?” Deputy Dave asked.

A familiar arm slid around Wendy’s waist.

Familiar? Not really, not in this reality, but she didn’t care what century they were in, she turned and pressed her face into Vince’s chest.

He pulled her behind one of the Egyptian columns. He ran his hands down her arms, over her body. “You’re not hurt? No bullet, no injuries from that jump?” He dipped his head close to her ear. “Which was magnificent, by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m fine. Maybe some plaster from the ceiling hit me.” With trembling hands, she dusted his shoulders. “What about you? That jump! I’ve never seen someone leap into midair that fast!”

“I’ve never done it before, but I’ve never had that kind of incentive. You and Roy and those kids . . .” His voice shook as he remembered the threat they’d faced.

“You saved them.”

“We saved them. Tonight, when I saw you standing there, surrounded by happy children, I knew you. I knew you were valiant and strong, funny and loving. I knew I’d waited my whole life for you.” He laughed unsteadily. “I’m standing here virtually naked, declaring myself to a woman I just met. What about you? Do you think—”

“That you’re the man who made me believe in love at first sight? Someone I could stand beside and love forever?”

He brushed her hair back from her face, leaned close, closer . . .

Vince’s breath touched Wendy’s lips, his warmth enfolded and enticed. She closed her eyes, rose the millimeter to put her mouth on his and kissed the man she’d lost, and found, today. Their hands roamed, their lips roamed—

“Uncle Vince!”

Roy’s piping voice broke them apart. They looked into each other’s eyes, sighed in unison and turned to face him.

With awesome patience, Vince asked, “What do you want, Roy?”

Roy grinned. “You’ve been kissing,” he said in a singsong voice.

Vince kept his arm around Wendy. “Brilliant deduction, Roy, and if you’d go away, I will—”

Wendy poked him with her elbow. “It’s not going to work. I know these kids. Roy’s merely the advance battalion.”

They followed Roy out into the aftermath of the shooting.

Deputy Dave stood over Bill’s starting-to-stir body, giving his report to the sheriff; because Gothic was so isolated, it would take time for official law enforcement to arrive.

Ariel had herded the parents and class away from the crime scene.

Someone had placed chairs for the O’Hall sisters. They sat together while Minnie gestured furiously at the holes in the ceiling and Mabel patted her arm and murmured platitudes.

At the sight of Vince and Wendy, everyone froze, stared and grinned. Even Minnie.

“Guess we know what you’ve been doing,” Deputy Dave said, and went back to his report.

Wendy frowned. What was this all about? Okay, they’d kissed, but the way everyone was acting—

Roy planted himself in front of his uncle. “You should ask her on a date. To eat dinner.”

Annoyed, Vince said, “I know how to ask a woman on a date, Roy.”

“You can’t be doing it right.” Roy’s voice rose to reach the far corners of the shop. “You don’t even have a girlfriend!”

Ariel slipped close to Wendy and muttered, “Good to know, especially if you’re going at it this fast.”

“What are you talking about?” Why did everyone act as if they’d been listening to that scene behind the pillar? Was there a microphone hidden back there? Was there an ill-placed mirror?

In much the same move as his nephew, Vince planted himself in front of Wendy. “After we give testimony to law enforcement . . .” He looked inquiringly at Deputy Dave.

“For sure,” Deputy Dave said.

“Would you like to go to dinner with Roy and I? The kid has to tag along because I’m babysitting.”

Roy beamed. “That’s the way, Uncle Vince!”

More laughter rippled through the group.

“I would love to go to dinner with you and Roy,” Wendy said.

A light round of applause and the first sounds of oncoming sirens rewarded her.

“You might want to fix your lipstick, first.” With a smirk, Ariel pulled a compact out of that magic purse of hers and handed it to Wendy.

Wendy flipped it open and looked. Ruby red lip color, stage paint from 1940, smeared her mouth, her forehead, her cheeks.

She shut the compact, handed back it to Ariel and advanced on Vince.

He laughed and backed up toward the door. “Just staking a claim.”

She kept stalking. “You sneaky bastard!”

He kept retreating. “One way or the other, I do like to hold the trophy—even if I have to cheat to get it.”

Hugh’s voice echoed in her mind. She stopped. Tears prickled her eyes.

“Hey!” Right away, Vince was there for her, holding her, hugging her. “Please don’t cry. I tease like I’ve known you forever, and I have no right. I just feel as if we met—”

“In another lifetime?”

“In another lifetime.”

Minnie and Mabel gave a final wave to party stragglers, law enforcement and curious neighbors.

“The fog is gone,” Minnie said in a low voice. “It’s a clear night.”

“Not a breath of wind. Not a current stirring.” Mabel wearily shut and locked the door of the shop.

Minnie slipped out of her low heels, picked them up and wandered toward the entrance of their upstairs apartment. “I thought we were in trouble this afternoon.”

Mabel did the same with her heels and limped after her sister. “Yes. That turned out better than I feared. I told you so.”

“No, I told you so.”

“Dear, don’t you remember what I said this morning?” Mabel held the door for Minnie.

Her sister passed through and started up the stairs. “Yes, dear, and I was right.”

Mabel followed. “No, dear—”

The door slammed behind them.

The theater settled into silence.

Backstage, as the long-ago strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You” softly played, dust swirled on an unseen current.

* * * * *

Excerpt

Please turn the page for a sneak peek at New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd’s Girl Anonymous. “The Godfather” meets “West Side Story” in this twisty thriller about a girl who is forced into hiding after a deadly blast reignites a killer family feud . . .

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Girl Anonymous!