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unconsciousness.
    Maliha heard two sirens approaching.
    Time to get out of here. She ripped off a strip of the shirt of the man she’d told to shut up, folded it into a square, and pressed it on Steve’s wound. It was saturated with blood by the time she unwound the scarf from her head. She ran the scarf under his body and tied it over the cloth square as the sirens grew louder. The delicate silk and soaked cloth didn’t provide enough compression. She squatted next to Steve. If she didn’t keep manual pressure on, he would bleed out. Maliha glanced at Belle, wishing she hadn’t lost consciousness.
    I’ll bet they’re tourists. She comes to Chicago happily married and goes home a widow. Not if I can stop it.
    Headlights turned in at the end of the alley, reflecting in the puddles and giving the impression of four headlights staring her down. The police car was first, followed by the ambulance. The muscles in Maliha’s legs ached to do what she’d always done—run away, keep her secret.
    The car pulled up close, adding its lights to the alley spotlight. Two officers got out, weapons drawn, and remained behind their open car doors. Maliha kept her face down.
    “Move away and get down on your knees!”
    Looking at it from their point of view, she knew it looked bad. Here she was armed, bloody-handed, with four bodies on the ground.
    “I’ll move as soon as the paramedics take over. Four people are alive, this man is critical,” she said.
    “Medics will move in as soon as you’re down on your knees. Do it now!”
    Reluctantly Maliha moved away several feet. She knew the next step was to be handcuffed and taken in for questioning, and she couldn’t allow that. Every second of delay meant more of Steve’s blood where it didn’t belong, on the outside of his body.
    Nothing else to do.
    She turned and ran at Ageless speed toward the empty end of the alley. The human eyes watching saw her vanish.
    Shit! The camera in that patrol car doesn’t have human eyes.
    Several blocks away, after her scale rebalanced for two lives saved, she considered going back and destroying the camera in the patrol car.
    Too late now. It’s up to Amaro to save my skin.

Chapter Four
     
    “A re you out of your mind?” Amaro said. It was 3 A.M. He was tapping away at his computer, trying to hack into the Chicago Police Department’s files, looking for the digital images of Maliha’s retreat. “How do you know there was a camera in the squad car? Do they upload wirelessly?”
    The edge in his voice triggered a low, dangerous tone in hers.
    “I stopped to help people in trouble. I do that. The man was injured and his wife was going to be raped. They would probably have been killed. Sound familiar? I didn’t hear any complaints when I saved Rosie.”
    Amaro grunted. “Do all of the squad cars have dash cams?”
    “I don’t know. I think so. The PODs are wireless, so maybe the dash cams are too. That’s your area, not mine.”
    PODs, or police observation devices, were surveillance cameras in public areas throughout Chicago, ranging from obvious ones the size of mailboxes with flashing lights to micro-PODs, unobtrusive cameras mounted on rooftops or light poles.
    “I have to get the POD stuff too?”
    “No. I’m sure I’ve shown up there dozens of times, but I know where they are and I never show my face uncovered while wearing this.” She had not changed out of her leathers and Steve’s blood was starting to dry on her. “So I’m just another freak running around this city.”
    “You know what,” Hound said, “I think you just got restless and went out looking for trouble. Now we’re going to see your lovely ass frame-by-frame on YouTube. You know, we’ve all broken the law for you. You get caught, so do we.”
    “Why, do you think I’ll break under questioning and turn you all in for a few lollipops? You’re missing the point here. What do you think would happen if the military got hold of me? I’m a readymade