Allison

by Strand, Jeff

  “I just said you don’t need to know.”

  “But you think she’ll let us in for a conversation?”

  “She sure as hell won’t let you in, because you’re the kind of creepy motherfucker that smart people don’t let into their homes. She may not let me in, either. But we’ll get in.”

  “Yeah, we will,” said Forrest. “She can’t keep us out. We’ll kick that door down and make her suffer.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Why do you think she might not let you in?”

  Daxton figured he should give Forrest that information, in case it came up during the actual kidnapping. “She believes that she killed my kid.”

  “You have a kid?”

  “On the way.”

  “Shit. Maggie lost the baby?”

  Daxton hated hearing Forrest say her name. “No. The baby’s fine. But the lady thinks she was responsible for a miscarriage, and I was going to try to squeeze some money out of her for it.”

  “Wow,” said Forrest. “That is dark.”

  “I like to seize opportunities.”

  “But the baby’s okay?”

  “Yes. I just said that.”

  “I understand. I wanted to make sure I heard correctly.” Forrest licked his lips. “Have you ever killed a baby?”

  “No.”

  “It’s really something.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  “It’s actually not about the baby. The baby isn’t putting up a fight or posing any kind of challenge. It’s all about the mother’s reaction.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” said Daxton.

  “And I don’t want to talk about it. The memory is just for me.”

  “I need you to stop talking. Just sit there and don’t say a word, okay?”

  “That’s fine,” said Forrest. “I’ve got plenty to think about.”

  They sat in the car, silent except for Forrest’s heavy breathing.

  As she walked through the woods, Allison came up with a plan.

  She’d anonymously pay their medical bills. Or what she could afford. She wasn’t rich by any stretch of the imagination, but she had some savings. It would help ease her conscience without looking like an offensive attempt to pay off their sorrow with a check.

  She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Daxton came back. It would depend on how he confronted her about what happened. She couldn’t imagine that she’d confess the way she did with Cody, but she didn’t like the idea of gaslighting somebody she’d flung across the room in that way. She’d see how antagonistic he was if he returned. Most likely, he wouldn’t come back. He’d already delivered the news and there was nothing more to say.

  If he returned with the cops, she would calmly lie. Yes, she’d stopped his girlfriend from falling down the stairs. Yes, she’d been emotional about it. No, of course she hadn’t thrown him across the room. Did she look strong enough to do something like that? Seriously, he claimed she did it without even touching him? How was she supposed to react to something so ridiculous? He was clearly impacted by the tragedy, and she absolutely didn’t blame him, but they had to keep a grip on objective reality here, right?

  In theory, the authorities would laugh off his story before they even agreed to pay her a visit. And Allison couldn’t allow herself to be aggressively interrogated. Locked in a room with a cop across the desk, stressed out of her mind...bad things would happen.

  She didn’t even know if that was how they’d question her. It could be much less formal and much less intimidating. Still, she could not be in a high-pressure situation like that, or her predicament would become so much worse.

  She stepped out of the woods into her backyard. She didn’t feel a lot better, but this had helped a little, so it had been a good use of forty-five minutes. Hopefully the “pay off their hospital bill” idea would work without further conflict.

  “She’s back,” said Daxton.

  Forrest cracked his knuckles. “Good. Let’s do this.”

  “No. We have to give it at least ten more minutes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if we walk right up to the door as soon as she goes back into the house, she’ll know we were watching her.”

  “Are you scared of her?” Forrest asked.

  “I’m scared of you being reckless.”

  “You know me. I like to keep things light beforehand, but once we start, I’m all business. When I’m on a job, it goes well. No dead kids.”

  “He wasn’t a kid,” said Daxton. “He was a full-grown adult who should’ve known what he was doing.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean Winlaw’s son-in-law. I would never bring that up. That would be tactless. I was talking about actual dead kids. The job I was referring to went horribly. I should’ve been there to keep everything on a professional level.”

  “I thought we’d agreed not to talk.”

  “You’re the one who started talking.”

  “Well, let’s stop.”

  Forrest shrugged and cracked his knuckles again.

  Allison almost wanted to text Cody to tell him not to come over. Now that she was a little calmer, the idea of talking to him on her cell phone while he sat at the end of the driveway seemed like a really awful second date. Why call extra attention to the fact that she could accidentally murder the people she cared about?

  For now she wouldn’t dissuade him. She had a few hours to decide what she wanted.

  She went inside through the back door and walked into her living room. She sat down on the couch next to Spiral, who immediately crawled onto her lap and began to purr.

  Allison was exhausted. A nap held great appeal right now.

  No. If she took a nap now she’d regret it tonight. She had a remarkable ability to be unbearably tired all day and then wide-awake the instant she hit the pillow. It would be worse tonight. No sense compounding the problem even further with a nap.

  She’d just sit here and pet her cat. Purring made everything better.

  “All right,” said Daxton. “Let’s go. Where’s the Chloroform?”

  “In my car.”

  “Get it.”

  “I know. We’re not going to leave without your precious Chloroform. Have you ever tried knocking yourself out with it?”

  “I said, let’s go.” Daxton got out of his car. Forrest got out, walked over to his own car, and retrieved a small brown paper bag.

  “I’ve got my knock-out juice, I’ve got my gun, and I’ve got my knife. Anything else?”

  “Leave the gun.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “We’re delivering her to Winlaw. We’re not killing her.”

  “I understand that. But I’m not putting myself into a potentially dangerous situation without my gun. I can tell that you’re carrying.”

  “I know I won’t shoot her. I don’t trust you.”

  Forrest chuckled. “I’m well aware that you don’t like me, but Winlaw sent me for a reason. You, Daxie, are the one who’s trying to redeem himself. I’m totally good. If I screw this up, maybe Winlaw will try to Kirkwood me, but that’s not your problem. So who does Daxton Sink worry about?”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “I’ll ask again. Who does Daxton Sink worry about?”

  “I said, shut the fuck up.”

  “He worries about Daxton Sink, that’s who. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got this. Now let’s go slam a Chloroform-soaked rag into that bitch’s face.”

  Daxton and Forrest walked toward the house. Daxton wouldn’t take all of the blame if this job went bad, but he couldn’t be part of two disasters in a row, even if Forrest was the one who botched it. But Forrest, repulsive as he was, knew what he was doing. This would go fine.

  “Here’s how it’s going to work,” Daxton said. “I’m going to knock on the front door while you pick the lock in the back. If you even have to—maybe she leaves the door unlocked when she’s home. I’ll keep her distracted. You sneak in, get as close as you can wi
thout her noticing, and then pounce with the rag.”

  Forrest nodded. “Not very elegant, but I like it.”

  “Just get her with the rag. Don’t hurt her.”

  “I’m not going to start biting her fingers off. I will ever so gently lower her unconscious form to the floor, taking care to get nary a hair out of place.”

  “I know you’re trying to be an asshole, but that’s the right way to do this. I’m trusting you.”

  Forrest gave him a salute, then hurried around the back of the house.

  Daxton walked up onto the front porch and rang the doorbell.

  11

  Allison opened the door but didn’t unfasten the chain lock. Oh, God. It was him.

  “I’m not here to cause any problems,” Daxton said, holding up his hands. “I’m here to apologize.”

  “Why would you need to apologize?”

  “Because you don’t just show up at somebody’s house and burden them with that kind of thing. That was horrible of me. There’s no excuse for that, no matter how bad things are in my life. Your reaction was completely understandable.”

  “My reaction?”

  “Screaming at me. Hitting me so that I smacked into the wall. I’m not trying to sound insincere here—I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, just that I understand it. It was a tense moment.”

  “Yes,” said Allison. “It was.”

  Did Daxton really believe that she’d hit him? Was it possible that, playing it back in his memory, this was the only explanation that made sense?

  “May I come in for a couple of minutes?” he asked. “I’m not going to take up much of your time. I have to get back to the hospital. I’d just like to apologize so that we can leave things in a better place.”

  “Of course,” said Allison, unfastening the chain lock. She opened the door and Daxton walked inside.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Oh, no. I’m not here to impose.”

  “It’s no problem at all.”

  “No, no. I’m fine, really. I feel like I may have implied that you were to blame for what happened, and nothing could be further from the truth. I apologize if I chose my words badly. I’ve been under a lot of stress, but that’s no excuse.”

  “You didn’t say anything wrong,” Allison told him.

  “It’s kind of you to say that, but we both know it’s not true. So let me be perfectly clear: this was not your fault, we do not blame you in any way, and you should feel no responsibility.”

  “I appreciate that. But I’d like to help out with the medical bills.”

  “That’s not necessary. I would never ask that of you.”

  “You didn’t ask. I’m offering.”

  “No,” said Daxton. “You do a good deed and have to pay for it? That wouldn’t be right. It goes against the idea that this absolutely wasn’t your fault, and it’s not at all why I came back. I just wanted to apologize, give you a hug, and let you know that everything is going to be all right.”

  Allison had been feeling an intense, almost overwhelming sense of relief. When he held out his arms for a hug, the vibe changed a bit. It wasn’t simply that Allison wasn’t a hugger. Daxton had a subtle change in demeanor, a sudden sense of desperation, as if he knew he was trying too hard. She’d believed everything he said up until this point, but in this moment she worried that he hadn’t only come back to apologize.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not much of a hugger.”

  He lowered his arms. “Neither am I. I just thought it was appropriate here.”

  “Will you settle for a handshake?”

  “Of course.”

  He stepped forward, staring into her eyes. Staring too intensely into her eyes, as if he was purposely trying not to break eye contact.

  Allison did not consider herself a particularly good judge of character, but she could tell when something felt wrong, and if her powers had included something useful like Spidey Sense, it would be tingling right now.

  She glanced behind her.

  There was another man in the house.

  He was about ten feet away. A big, scary looking guy holding a dripping rag.

  He lunged at her.

  Allison screamed.

  Forrest, with that creepy-ass grin, rushed at Allison as soon as she saw him. Daxton had a moment of horror, thinking that he’d grab her, snap her neck, and say “Oops,” as her dead body dropped to the floor.

  Instead, right before he reached her, he just stopped.

  His outstretched arms fell to his sides. He dropped the Chloroform-soaked rag to the floor.

  Forrest stood there, looking bewildered.

  Daxton should have used this opportunity to grab Allison from behind. Drag her over to the rag and shove her face into it. Instead, he took a great big step back.

  Now Forrest looked like he had an instant migraine.

  His mouth fell open but he didn’t say anything.

  His whole body began to quiver.

  Tackle her, Daxton thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want her to focus her attention on him. He wanted Forrest, who was bigger and stronger, to break free of whatever spell she had over him and take her out.

  Daxton had a goddamn gun. He could threaten her with it. He could make her stop.

  But he wasn’t prepared to actually shoot her. And if she called his bluff…

  Basically, he was a fucking coward. Her display of power had terrified him and he couldn’t bring himself to attack her for fear of getting a second dose of it.

  Forrest gave him a pleading look, as if mentally begging for help.

  Thin rivulets of blood trickled down the sides of his mouth.

  Daxton took another big step backwards.

  Forrest whimpered. Daxton didn’t know if it was from terror, excruciating pain, or both.

  Do something, for God’s sake!

  Forrest’s whimper turned into a moan. A bloody tooth dropped out of his mouth. Then another.

  Blood ran down his lips and from his nostrils, as teeth kept falling to the floor.

  His eyes went wide and he started to gasp for breath, as if choking on a molar.

  He coughed, sending a spray of six or seven teeth into the air.

  Blood began to stream down his face from his ears.

  At this point, Daxton knew he had to get the hell out of there. But there was still Winlaw’s rage to contend with, so he couldn’t just flee the house, run to his car, and speed off.

  Forrest dropped to his knees. Blood was now leaking from his eyes. The poor bastard was still alive but that wasn’t going to last much longer. More teeth fell out of his mouth. As soon as he died, Allison would almost certainly come after Daxton, so he needed to figure out a plan, immediately.

  Just get her!

  No. He couldn’t do it.

  Shoot her in the leg!

  Shooting her in the leg might solve the problem, and it might mean that seconds later he had blood gushing from all of his orifices.

  Then he saw her cell phone resting on the coffee table.

  He’d swipe it and run. Trap her in the house without a way to call for help.

  Without further thought, he rushed for the phone and grabbed it. Forrest let out a cry of agony as Daxton ran for the front door. He threw the door open, hurried outside, and pulled it shut.

  He took out his pocketknife and frantically ran around the house, looking for a cable. There it was. He cut the white cord, hoping this would kill her Internet access. He ran around the rest of the house, but didn’t see any other cables.

  Then, because he didn’t know how far her homicidal powers could reach, he fled from her yard.

  There was a loud crack as either the man’s neck broke or his skull did.

  He flopped forward onto the carpet and lay still.

  Allison stumbled backwards, hands over her mouth.

  She couldn’t panic. Daxton, though he’d r
un from the house, was still a problem. She needed to go after him. She hoped she could finish this without killing him—maybe she’d be able to just break his leg—but she wasn’t going to let him get away.

  She opened the front door and stepped outside.

  Daxton, who was at the edge of her yard, stopped running and spun around to face her. He reached under his shirt and took out a gun.

  Allison quickly stepped back inside and pulled the door closed.

  She glanced around for her phone. It wasn’t on the coffee table where she’d left it, and she was pretty sure Daxton had taken it while she was focused on his friend. She didn’t have a landline, but there had to be a website for 911, right?

  She hurried into her office and pressed the escape key to take her work laptop out of hibernation mode. No Internet connection. She clicked on the icon to pull up the list of wireless networks in the area, but “Allison T” was missing and the other two were both password protected.

  She peeked out the side window, hoping that Daxton had continued running. But he was in the same spot, a cell phone to his ear. She gazed at him through the glass, staring as hard as she could, trying to envision blood gushing out of his eye sockets.

  Nothing happened.

  From where he stood, he’d be able to see her if she went out the back door. She might be able to race into the woods without him shooting her. She might not. She had no idea how good of a shot Daxton was. For now, it seemed like more of a risk than just staying put.

  The windows on the other side of the house were painted shut. He’d hear if she tried to break them. And she couldn’t control her powers well enough to know for sure that she stood a chance against a gun-wielding psycho pursuing her through the woods.

  She returned to her living room. A pool of blood was expanding around the dead man’s body. Spiral stood there, poking at it with his front paw, so she picked the cat up and put him back on the couch.

  She went into the kitchen and took down four pots. She filled each of them with water and placed them on the stove, setting each burner on high. Then she opened the drawer where she kept her knives. She had six or seven good ones, including a butcher knife, and she set them out on the counter. Allison took the butcher knife with her as she peeked out the window to check on Daxton.