by Lis Wiehl
Amber walked down the hall and into the room, tail switching. It was clear she sensed something was wrong. Ophelia wished she knew where the cat had come from. Had it been with Allison and slipped out when she opened the door to listen?
Maul’s lip curled as he looked at Amber. “What are you, the crazy cat lady? How many cats do you have?”
Ophelia couldn’t work out whether it was better to lie, or if so, what that lie should be, so she simply said, “Three.”
“If you don’t get Nicole Hedges here really fast, you’re only going to have two.” He turned and sighted casually at Amber, then Cinders. “Or maybe one. I need a little target practice.” He swung the gun back to Ophelia.
Over Maul’s shoulder, Ophelia saw a cell phone lying on the mantel. Her heart fell. Not her phone, but Lindsay’s. Which meant Allison had no way to alert anyone. Even if she was hearing every word of Maul’s, what could she do?
There. Another sound in the back. She knew every creak and groan of this house, and this wasn’t one of them. With difficulty, she kept her face blank and did not look toward the hall.
Then she remembered the broken window in her room, the blinds twisted to one side. It could be that the sounds she was attributing to Allison were actually common night sounds she normally didn’t hear through the closed window and the noise-reducing blinds. It was possible that Allison was sound asleep, unaware that the man who thought he had killed her was only a few feet away.
“Where’s your phone?” Maul looked around the room.
“I don’t have a landline. Just a cell phone.”
“Aren’t you modern?” Maul smirked. “Call Nicole. But put it on speaker phone. I want to hear everything both of you say. And to make sure you play nice, I’m going to be holding your cat Daisy here, and if I don’t like what I hear, I’m going to hurt her.”
Still keeping his gun pointed at Ophelia, he leaned down and scooped up Maizy with his free hand and held her against one hip. He obviously had no idea how to hold a cat, how she didn’t like her feet dangling in space. The cat writhed, but was no match for his strong hand.
“Maizy,” Ophelia said, knowing it was stupid to correct him, but unable to stop herself. “Her name is Maizy.”
“Whatever. Just make sure Nicole comes alone, or I’ll be forced to kill the cat—or you.”
It seemed probable that he would kill her either way. But what could she do? Ophelia took her phone out of her pocket, set it down on the dining room table, pressed the button for the speaker phone, and called Nicole.
“What’s up, Ophelia?”
Maul was making her lie, but she tried to insert a kind of truth. “I think I might have made a mistake. A big one. Can you come back here for a minute? There’s something I need to talk to you about, but not in front of Leif.”
“What is it?”
She hesitated. Maul squeezed Maizy until she let out a pained yowl.
“I don’t want to say over the phone.” Improvisation had never been one of Ophelia’s skills. “It’s, um, something I have to show you.”
“Is it something to do with Allison?”
She couldn’t let Nicole say anything more about Allison, couldn’t let her give away that she was still alive. “In a way. Just come back for a second. Please, Nicole? I need you.”
And then she pressed the key to end the conversation.
CHAPTER 37
Allison fell asleep as soon as she put her head on the pillow. She bobbed a little closer to consciousness, heard voices, decided Ophelia was watching TV, and dived back into the deep. Sleep was an ocean, and she wanted to drown.
A cat yowled, pulling her back onto shore. Ophelia and her cats. She seemed more comfortable with them than she did with people. She must have stepped on one’s tail. Allison had already seen how they could get underfoot, especially if they sensed the possibility of food.
Half in, half out of sleep, Allison listened to the rhythm of voices the way she would listen to the rush of the surf. A lulling background noise.
But one of the voices belonged to Ophelia. Not TV, then. The waves receded further. Who could she be talking to? And this late at night?
How much did she know about Ophelia, anyway?
Allison’s eyes sprang open.
She slipped from bed and padded to the door, holding her breath so nothing would interfere with her ability to hear. Sickeningly, she was reminded of how she had waited and listened at the bank, hesitated while her sister died in her place.
Slowly, slowly, she turned the knob. The hair on her arms rose. She knew it was irrational, but it felt like someone was waiting for her on the other side, just a few inches away, and as soon as she opened the door, she would be face-to-face with whoever it was.
With agonizing slowness, she inched the door open. And nearly cried out when the ginger tabby tried to butt its head through the crack. She pushed it back with her foot, but it persisted. Finally it made a little noise of protest, then turned and went down the hall.
She could hear the voices much more clearly now. One definitely belonged to Ophelia. The other voice was a man’s. It was not a voice that Allison knew well, but it was familiar nonetheless. The man ordered Ophelia to call Nicole and persuade her to return. When she hesitated, he threatened to kill Ophelia’s cat. And then he threatened to kill Ophelia.
Lucas Maul. It was Lucas Maul. The floor felt like it was falling away from beneath her feet. Allison tightened her grip on the doorknob, willing herself to stand upright. Lucas Maul, the man who had killed her friend. Who had killed her sister. Who had tried to kill Nicole. Who thought he had killed her.
And who now was no more than twenty feet away.
Allison had nothing to defend herself with. No gun, no mace, not even a baseball bat. Not even—her gaze darted to the blank top of the dresser—Lindsay’s phone, which she remembered leaving in the living room.
Allison listened as Ophelia followed Maul’s demands. She called Nicole and asked her to come back, ending the conversation shortly after Nicole used Allison’s name.
Had Maul picked up on that? Did he already know she was alive? Did he know she was here? Was he just tormenting her, knowing she had nowhere to run?
“Very good, Ophelia. You’ve bought yourself some time,” she heard him say. “Something I don’t have very much of these days. I have a terminal illness, Ophelia. When I learned that, I decided that if I’m going to die young, so will the people who ruined my life. They don’t deserve to be enjoying themselves when I’m not walking around on the earth anymore. They don’t deserve to eat, drink, feel the sunshine. I decided they all should be dead and buried long before I am.”
Allison had to get out of this room. Escape Maul, warn Nic, help Ophelia. She went to her window, but the only way out was through the top section. It was hard to imagine how she would be able to clamber out without making a lot of noise. And then Maul would catch her midway. He would shoot her on the spot, while she still had one leg over.
She crept back to the door. Maul was still ranting.
“I watched Cassidy’s eyes change as she realized she was going to die. I saw the terror on her face. I heard her beg and then I made her be quiet. I felt her pulse go still under my fingers.”
Allison swallowed her nausea. She had to think. She couldn’t be ruled by her disgust and fear.
“Why frame Rick McEwan for it though?” Ophelia asked.
“I didn’t want to warn the other two. It was just a bonus that I figured out how to blame it on a cop. Then when I killed Allison, I told her to say hello to Cassidy. I wanted her to know that her death wasn’t random after all.”
But Lindsay’s had been. Lindsay had died in her place. Allison had to stop him. Maybe she could rush down the hall and surprise him? Somehow snatch the gun from his hands? If he was standing with his back to the hall, it could possibly work.
But it probably wouldn’t.
Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the hall, making Allison gasp. A gu
st of warm, damp wind blew against her right cheek.
She froze. Had Maul heard her?
No. He was still lecturing Ophelia, apparently enjoying an audience. Meanwhile, time was ticking away. She had to find a way to escape and warn Nicole.
Wait. Why could she feel a breeze? Then she realized that Ophelia’s door was open. Allison opened her own door another inch, two, until she could see into Ophelia’s room. The glass had been broken out from the window, the blinds twisted to one side.
It was a way out. Once she was outside she could warn Nicole. And Nicole could summon help for Ophelia.
But depending on where Maul was, Allison might die trying.
Last time she had waited. Last time she had been cautious.
And last time Lindsay had died.
Before she could think about it too much, she ducked low, scurried into Ophelia’s room, and leapt up on the bed. She was holding her breath. Maul’s rant didn’t pause. A shard of glass sliced her foot, just a slippery sensation at first, followed by a sharp pain. She bit her lip. She should have slipped on some shoes, but there was no time to think about that now.
She jumped out of the broken window, landing painfully on her hands and knees. It was raining hard, and one palm slipped on the wet grass, wrenching her shoulder. With a muffled grunt, Allison pushed herself to her feet. Scrambling around the corner, out of sight of the front door, she pressed her back against the side of the house. She looked up and down the block. There was no one in sight. The street was wide and empty, lit up by streetlights. It looked like a stage set, like it was just waiting for Gene Kelly to dance down it, singing about the rain.
It did not look like a place to hide.
It was raining so hard the drops hit the street and then bounced up again. Allison swiped the water from her eyes. Most of the houses had porch lights on, but past each of those she could see only darkness. If people were up, they were watching TV in the dark. No house looked clearly occupied by someone who would immediately answer the door if she pounded on it.
And even if she did get someone to respond to her frantic knocking, how long would it take to explain to them why they should contact the authorities? Or to persuade them to let her use a phone to warn Nicole? Three minutes? Five? Far too long.
Another flash of lightning, followed almost immediately by the crack of thunder. Didn’t that mean the lightning was less than a mile away?
When Allison peeked around the corner again, Nicole’s car was already in the driveway, and Nicole was raising her fist to knock on the door.
“No, Nicole, no, don’t!” As she screamed a warning, the thunder cracked again.
Nicole turned to look over her shoulder. Her hand was moving toward her gun.
The door opened.
A man stood silhouetted against the light. Both arms were held straight out in front of him, and in his hands was a gun with what looked like a silencer on the end. “Welcome to hell, Nicole Hedges,” he shouted over the rain. “Save a place for Lucas Maul.”
Then he fired, and Nic fell backward off the steps.
“No!” Allison screamed. She was too overwhelmed with horror to think, to realize that she was giving herself away. “Nic!”
Maul jerked his head to the left. His eyes met Allison’s. They widened as he recognized her. The gun snapped up again. Pointed right at her.
Allison turned and ran.
CHAPTER 38
Allison’s legs moved up and down like pistons in an engine being pushed to its limit. Her fists punched the air with each step. Desperately she zigged and zagged, her bare feet beating against the wet pavement.
Pi-choo! A bullet whined past her ear. Trying to present as small a target as possible, she squeezed her arms tight to her sides and bent forward as she ran even faster. The rain lashed her skin. She only hoped it was also obscuring the outlines of her body.
She paid no attention to the stinging rain, or the cut on her foot, or the burning in her lungs. The only thing that mattered was staying alive.
She had to. Even though Nicole was lying dead somewhere behind her. Even though so many people she loved were dead now. Not only Nicole, but Cassidy and Lindsay. She had to live because of the new life growing inside her.
And because if she died, then Lucas Maul would win. His twisted version of justice would triumph.
Risking a glance over her shoulder, Allison saw that Maul was about a block behind her, running flat-out. He held the gun down at his side. At least he was no longer aiming it at her. Not right this second, anyway.
Where could she go? This street was too open. Just a long straight stretch of empty road, lit up by streetlights and the occasional flickering bolt of lightning. If Allison tried to hide behind a garage or cut into a side yard, Maul could follow her all too easily. Probably with the helpful addition of motion-activated security lights.
Even if a car appeared and she ran to it, how would they be able to save her? She would just end up getting any possible Good Samaritan killed, gunned down alongside her.
Ophelia must have called the cops by now. Unless Maul had shot her too. Allison couldn’t think about that right now. Even if Ophelia had managed to alert the authorities, Maul would get to Allison long before any of them responded. She had to get off this empty, brightly lit street and to someplace he couldn’t see or follow her as easily.
Where? Where? Where? The question pounded in her brain.
The road curved to the left, and she crossed over to the other side, the side with no houses. Instead there was just a grassy strip of bluff about twenty feet wide. Below it the land dipped steeply down toward the Willamette River about a mile away. She could see the headlights of cars crossing the Sellwood Bridge, the lights of a boat sailing down the river in the darkness. And in between her and the river lay—what?
Closest to the river was Oaks Amusement Park, where Allison had attended many birthday parties and summer outings when she was a kid. The Ferris wheel was still lit up, and a few spotlights had been left on, but most of the park was dark, the rides shut down, closed up for the night.
And in between Allison and that Ferris wheel was a deep, velvety darkness, shadow upon shadow. Precious darkness, where she might be able to hide.
But what was in the darkness, exactly? Then she remembered. It was some kind of wildlife refuge for birds. Oaks Bottom, that’s what it was called. It had a shallow lake, trees, shrubs, wildflowers, trails for city dwellers who wanted a taste of the wild without leaving the city. And dozens and dozens of birds: hawks, hummingbirds, ducks, woodpeckers, and eagles.
She and Marshall had been there once, years ago, before they were even married. Her memory conjured up a short paved path and a longer, narrower, muddier trail, which was the one they had taken. While they were walking, a great blue heron had lifted off nearly in front of them, uttering a deep, hoarse croak. Its huge wing span had been awe-inspiring, as if they had traveled back to the time of flying dinosaurs. And later they had seen an osprey dive steeply into the river and come up with a still flopping silver fish in its claws.
Thinking of all this took only a second, and meanwhile Allison’s feet kept right on slapping the pavement. The wetlands offered more cover than the illuminated city street. She chose them without a second thought. Darting across the bluff, she bolted into the darkness that lay below. It was so steep her first step off the bluff felt like it covered yards and yards, like she was an astronaut bounding endlessly in zero gravity.
Then she landed so hard that the pain jolted all the way from her heel to her jaw. Her teeth caught her tongue, and blood flooded her mouth. Still she didn’t stop. She hurtled blindly down the hill, hands in front of her, willing her eyes to adjust to the darkness.
With her next step, Allison’s toe caught a root. She went tumbling head over heels, jolting over what felt like hundreds of small stones. Each time she landed on her shoulder or her hip or the back of her neck, she worried that she had broken something, but the slope was so abrupt that
she could do nothing to slow herself down. She was like one of those daredevils who had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel. At a certain point, you gave yourself up to whatever came next.
As she rolled and tumbled down the hill, she again heard pi-choo, pi-choo, this time above her. Maul must be standing on the edge of the bluff, shooting down at her. Shooting blindly, she hoped.
Finally she slowed down enough that she managed to regain her feet. She stumbled forward and kept moving, not stopping for anything, trying not to think about the various parts of her body that were now screaming in pain.
To run was to live. To stop was to die.
And then she was in the trees, lurching between them, branches slapping her face, ripping out hanks of her hair. Another lightning bolt zigzagged down to her left, lighting up the sky so that for a split second it was as bright as day. It had hit only yards from her, close enough that the back of her neck prickled. The thunder came right on its heels.
Allison kept running.
She could hear Maul some distance behind her, stumbling and cursing. The sounds gave wings to her feet. Pushing her way through the wet tangled underbrush, she was heedless of the brambles and sticks that clawed at her bare skin.
The night itself was far from quiet. Frogs peeped, the occasional mosquito whined in her ears, and the rain still drummed on the thirsty ground, although it seemed to be letting up a little. The earth was so dry and cracked that it was turning to mud, making it even harder to move quickly.
Allison ran and fell and picked herself up and ran again, feet sliding out from under her at every step. She never looked back. Her right ankle throbbed. She thought it might be sprained, but her fear was bigger than the pain. Her eyes had adjusted by now so she could avoid the trunks of big trees, but roots and rocks still tripped her up, brambles and smaller branches still tore and slashed at her. She splashed through a small stream and worried that she was making so much noise that Maul could easily follow her. But it seemed more important to put distance between them than to be silent and slow.