“Whatever happens, do not open that door, the police are pulling up right now, they’re there, hold on—”
I could hear the blows against the wood.
I could hear Elspeth crying, somewhere behind Zora.
And Zora had dragged a heavy wardrobe across the doorway and was screaming out the window for help, and the neighbors had come out into the hall, and the noise and the eyes were too much for him, and he broke and ran for the stairwell — and by the time our car slammed to a stop outside, officers were already pouring into the lobby, and a voice came over the radio saying they had him, twelfth floor, in custody.
A female officer carried my daughter out the front doors, and the second Elspeth saw me she launched herself into my arms.
“Mommy,” she sobbed into my neck, “I remembered exactly what you said.