by Kate White
Flooded with fear, she lunged through the near-darkness toward the stairs. Suddenly she felt dizzy and disoriented in the near-darkness. She raised her foot to meet the first step but didn’t reach it, and she stumbled, falling. As she landed in a heap, both flashlights bounced from her hands. She heard one roll across the floor to her left. The other, the one she’d been using, was just a few feet away, shooting a beam of light across the hard cement floor. Terrified, she crawled toward it on her knees. Don’t let it go out, she begged.
She reached the flashlight and stuck her arm out feebly to grab it. Then she felt an intense, searing pain in her head. A split second later she slipped into unconsciousness.
Pain woke her, forced open her eyes. She was lying in pitch-black darkness, and her head was throbbing, as if someone had smashed the back of it with a chair. There was a weird taste in her mouth-metallic. I’ve cut the inside of my mouth, she thought. She tried to find the spot with her tongue, but it was too swollen to move.
Where am I? she wondered panic-stricken. Her heart began to pound in time with the throbbing in her head. She tried to shift her body, but she felt paralyzed.
She forced herself to take a breath. I’m in a nightmare, she told herself, one of those nightmares you can dream and see yourself in at the same time. And I’m going to wake up. As she breathed, she smelled something musty, like mildewed clothes. No, this was real. She tried again to shift her body. Her arms didn’t move but she was able to twist her head a little.
A sound slid through the blackness-a long, low groan that she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded harder. It’s a motor, she thought finally.
She realized at last where she was. But why? Had she fallen? Or had someone hit her? Her mind was so confused, her thoughts choked like a tangle of weeds in a lake. She found the beginning and tried to go step by step from there. The last thing she recalled was trying to reach the flashlight. It must have gone out, though. How long had she been here and why was she alone? And then suddenly she knew. She remembered everything. She let out an anguished sob at the truth.
She realized that the hum of the motor must be from the freezer she’d seen earlier, which meant that the power was back on. She had to get out. She twisted her head back and forth and commanded the rest of her body to move. Her legs felt leaden, like they were metal drums filled to the brim, but she was able to move one of her arms-the right one. She flexed her right hand slowly open and closed, back and forth.
There was another noise-from far above this time. Footsteps. And next a door opening. Terror engulfed her body, squeezing air from her lungs.
The killer was coming to get her.
Lake tried desperately to move again. She managed to drag her hand to her face, but that was it. Suddenly the lightbulb in the ceiling popped on. The light made her head hurt even more but she forced her eyes to stay open. She realized that she was lying just to the left of the bottom of the steps. Raising her pounding head, she saw Rory descending the stairs.
“Rory,” she said weakly as her head fell back onto the hard floor. “I must have passed out.”
“Of course you did,” Rory said, stepping in front of Lake. She smiled down at her.
“What?” Lake asked groggily.
“I know you did. I gave you a little something in your tea.”
Lake felt a sudden urge to vomit, tasting it in her mouth.
“I’m really very angry with you, Lake,” Rory said. “If you must know, I’m in a rage. But I’m too professional to let it show.”
“What…have I done?” Lake asked.
“What have you done? I think you know, Lake. You’re the reason Mark Keaton is dead.”
You must stay calm, Lake commanded herself, you must try to reason with her. “That’s not true,” she said. “I-I had nothing to do with that. I barely knew him.”
“But you knew him well enough to fuck him. You were with him that night, Lake. Don’t lie to me. You gave it away for sure when we were in that stupid piano bar-you knew about his terrace.”
Lake’s heart was pounding so hard she could hear the sound in her head.
“I’d called him that night, you know,” Rory said. “I’d told him before I left that day about our baby. It was a little bit of a shock for him but I knew he was going to be very, very happy. We just needed to talk it through and work out all the details. But as soon as I heard his voice on the phone I knew he was expecting someone. I didn’t have any choice but to go there-and of course, I’d been smart enough to make a copy of the key.”
“And in case you’re thinking the police are going to figure out it was me because they have a record of the call, don’t. I made a point of telling them that I’d spoken to Dr. Keaton that night. I said he’d asked me to call him to follow up about a patient. But as you know very well, Lake, the last thing on his mind that night was a patient. When I walked in his bedroom, it was disgusting. I could tell from the smell he’d had sex with someone. And I was almost positive it was you.”
I have to do something, Lake thought desperately. She raised her head a little, just to see if she could.
“Rory, I-”
“Hush, Lake. I’m not some kind of fool. I’d seen you being super flirty with him for days. One night I’d even thought you might have lured him to your place. Women are such predators-they won’t leave men like Mark alone.”
“But-”
“Don’t you dare give me any buts. I know all about women like you. I knew I’d guessed right when I saw how petrified you looked when the police came to the clinic. I mentioned to the police how upset you were and I could tell they thought you’d been up to no good as well. At that point I had to flush you out and see how you reacted.”
“Did-did you shave Smokey?” Lake asked. She was stalling for time, trying to think.
“Is that what you call that fat ugly cat of yours? You never said a word about it to anyone. That’s when I knew you had something to hide.”
“I-”
“Oh, shut up, Lake. Don’t you see what you’ve done? Because of you, Mark will never see his baby.”
“But why kill him?”
“You’d obviously poisoned his mind against me. He wasn’t going to make any time for me or the baby. I’d be all by myself up here with our son and he’d be busy fucking you in the city.”
“Rory, I did go to Dr. Keaton’s place-but it was only to talk to him,” Lake said. Her words sounded hollow to her, but a lie was all she had left. “It was about the clinic. He’d been in touch with one of the women-one of the women who was given someone else’s embryos. I need your help to expose the clinic. What they’re doing is wrong. No one has to know about Dr. Keaton.”
Rory just stared down at Lake, her face blank. Lake couldn’t even guess what was behind her eyes. Was she possibly considering what Lake had said? she wondered.
“Liar,” Rory spat out. And then before Lake even saw it coming, Rory kicked her hard in the side of the head. She was wearing thin ballet flats, but the blow stung and her head was knocked back to the ground.
Involuntarily Lake moaned. Rory was going to kill her. Lake had to get out of the basement somehow.
She sensed she was starting to regain strength in her arms and her legs-probably because she’d only drunk a little of the tea-but she couldn’t let Rory know. She had to outsmart her. Instinctively Lake’s eyes glanced from Rory’s face to her large hands. Would Rory try to stab her-like she’d done to Keaton?
Rory snickered. “No, I don’t have a knife, Lake,” she said, clearly having caught the movement of Lake’s eyes. “I can’t have a bloodbath in my basement. Blood does not come out of cement, trust me.”
In a flash she was on top of Lake, yanking her by the jersey shirt she wore. Rory twisted the fabric around her fist and began to drag her across the floor. She was strong, stronger than Lake could have imagined. Where is she taking me? Lake thought frantically. She let her body go limp, pretending she was still immobilized, but her eyes shot ahead. Th
en she saw it. Rory was dragging her to the freezer.
29
SHE’S GOING TO lock me in there, Lake realized. She would die from cold and suffocation, and no one would ever know what happened to her. Her kids would spend the rest of their lives haunted by her disappearance.
In her terror, she felt the urge to protest and to struggle, but she fought the instinct. She had to let Rory think she was power-less to help herself. Her eyes shot around the basement, searching. She needed a weapon, something to strike Rory with. But there was nothing.
They reached the freezer. Rory dropped her to the ground, hard, and lifted the lid. Lake could feel a scream forming in her throat, something primitive and terrified, but she didn’t let it free. She tried to wiggle her feet. The muscles were weak, but she could move them now.
Rory spun around and this time grabbed Lake under the arms from behind. She hoisted her up and flopped her torso over the side of the freezer. As a blast of cold air hit her from below, Lake reached out her arms to catch herself. Her hands hit something hard and ice cold-packages of frozen food, she thought. With her right hand she grasped one of them. It was slippery and sharp on the edges and she had to hold it tightly. As Rory tried to hoist Lake’s right leg into the freezer, Lake twisted around and smashed the frozen package into Rory’s face.
The blow sent Rory reeling backward. Her body still weak, Lake took a clumsy step forward and hit Rory again. This time Rory tottered against the basement wall and crumbled to her knees, holding her belly. Lake staggered toward the stairs and, using her hands to help, half-crawled to the top. The door to the kitchen was open. Please, please let there be a lock, she pleaded. Below her she could hear Rory begin to wail in protest. Lake reached the top of the stairs, lurched into the brightly lit kitchen and slammed the door. There was a lock-a bolt. She shoved it into place.
To her relief she saw that her purse was on the table where she’d left it. She threw the strap of her purse over her head and stumbled into the living room. As she made her way unsteadily to the front door, she dug first for her car key and then her BlackBerry. A dull thudding sound echoed through the house. It was Rory banging on the door from the basement.
Lake hit 911 on her phone. The operator answered in two rings.
“Someone is trying to kill me,” she said.
“Please tell me your location.”
“Uh-Red Fox Road. Two seventy-one, I think.”
“Are you in imminent danger?”
Lake swung the front door open with her free hand. It was still raining, a steady downpour that sounded like water pouring over a dam.
“Yes, but I’ve locked her in the basement.”
“Help is on the way. Please stay on the line until the police arrive.”
“I can’t. I have to get to my car.”
She tossed the BlackBerry in her purse and clumsily jammed her feet into her clogs, which she’d left by the entrance. She groped her way down the front steps and around the side of the house. She hit the unlock button on the key and the car lights flashed, beckoning her. She began to stagger across the yard.
Whatever adrenaline had saved her in the basement was used up, and she felt weary again, light-headed. The mud didn’t help. It grabbed hard at her clogs, making her feel like she was running in deep water. She had to stop for a second just to catch her breath.
A sound made her jump. It was a crack of thunder-or what she thought was thunder. She spun around and peered through the streaming rain. There was a dim light glowing toward the rear of the gatehouse, along the base. She realized with a start that the outside bulkhead door to the basement had been flung open. And then she saw Rory. She was charging toward her with one hand raised high, carrying something. It was a shovel, the kind with a small pointy scoop.
Lake turned and forced herself to keep running. The car wasn’t far, but she could hear panting close behind her to the right, and the slurping sound of Rory’s shoes fighting the mud. Lake was almost at the car, almost. Then the blow came. She heard the whack on her head before she felt it and it seemed to echo in her brain. Then a searing pain shot through her.
Lake stumbled forward and tried to right herself, but the blow had knocked the wind out of her and finally she fell forward, landing on her knees in the mud. She was still clutching the car key in one hand and she tightened her fist around it as she struggled onto her back. Rory had the shovel raised, ready to deliver another blow. As she started to bring it down Lake threw her body to the right. The shovel missed her head but the metal scoop landed hard on her arm, making her yelp in pain.
Lake scooted backward in the mud, trying to get leverage to stand. As Rory brought the shovel up again, Lake kicked hard at Rory’s shin. Rory lurched backward, instinctively lowering the shovel as she reached one hand to her shin. Lake struggled up. Her clothes were sopping wet now, almost weighing her down. With all the force she could muster, she charged toward Rory, knocking her to the ground. The shovel dropped from her hand. Lake picked it up and flung it across the yard as Rory let out a scream of rage.
This was her only chance now. Lake lunged toward the car, yanked open the door, and flung herself inside. With wet, slippery fingers she fumbled along the door until she found the lock and clicked it closed. At the same moment, Rory threw herself at the car and yanked hard at the door handle. When it didn’t open, she began to bang on the window.
Don’t look, just go, Lake told herself. Her right hand was trembling and she had to steady it with the other one just to make the key go into the slot. Rory kept banging on the window, so hard Lake was sure it would shatter. She turned on the engine and put the car in reverse. As she pulled away, she could see Rory standing in the headlights, dripping wet, her mouth slack in angry confusion. Then she turned and plunged into the darkness.
Lake began to edge the car backward down the driveway. In the dark, in the pouring rain, she could see next to nothing in the rearview mirror. I can’t do this, she thought desperately. She tried to concentrate but she still felt dizzy and her head ached. Within seconds she veered off to the left and her back bumper rammed a post or a rock along the edge of the driveway.
Turn around, she told herself. It was the only way she would be able to get out. In the headlights she saw grass to the right of the driveway and she guessed that there was enough room to swing the car around. She put the car in drive, tapped the gas and maneuvered to the right. Then she jerked the gearshift into reverse and cranked the wheel so she could point the back of the car toward the house. She touched the pedal. The back wheels lurched but the front wheels didn’t move. They’re stuck in mud, she realized, hitting the brake. She gunned the motor but the wheels spun round and round, shooting mud into the beams of the headlights.
Lake was almost hyperventilating. She breathed through her nose, trying to calm herself so she could concentrate. Turning the wheel slightly, she tapped the gas again. This time the car jerked backward and she positioned it so she was facing out of the driveway. With a rush of relief, she put the car in drive and eased down the driveway. She glanced in the rearview mirror. There was no sign of Rory.
When she reached the road she turned right. She had no idea where she was going, only that this was the direction she’d come from. She didn’t dare fool with the GPS now. She would just drive until she could find a town. And then what? She had called the police and would have to follow up with them. But what would she say? They were on their way to the house now and would talk to Rory, of course. Rory would deny everything, would tell about Lake being with Keaton that night, would even say Lake was the one who killed Keaton.
The road was treacherously narrow and the rain was even heavier now, blowing sideways because of the wind. She still felt weak, dizzy. It’ll be okay, she told herself, just drive slowly. Instinctively she glanced in the rearview mirror. Two white headlights had appeared out of the darkness. Was it Rory?
Gripping the wheel, Lake accelerated, but she was afraid of skidding or running off the road. The h
eadlights gained on her. They seemed to be alive, two demonic creatures bearing down on her in the night.
But all of a sudden the headlights disappeared. It was as if the car had been swallowed up by the night. Then Lake heard the roar of the car. It was coming up the road in the other lane, alongside her. Rory was preparing to ram into her, she realized in horror.
She’d barely finished the thought when she felt the blow to the back left side of the car. As her car fishtailed, Lake was knocked forward into the steering wheel and her head snapped back. There was a curve in the road and she couldn’t see what was on the other side of it. Using some old instinct, she touched the brake lightly and steadied the car as she turned the corner.
A second later Lake heard a loud cracking sound, like a tree being split in two by lightning, followed by a cacophony of shattering glass. Rory had crashed her car into something.
Lake eased her foot onto the brake carefully, wondering what she should do. As she finished coming around the bend, she spotted pulsing red lights. They were on top of a white police car, ahead of her at an intersection and about to make a turn onto the road. She had no choice but to stop.
She slowed the car and beeped the horn loud and long to get their attention. The police car pulled up parallel to hers on the road. It said Bedford Hills Police on the side. She rolled down her window, and the police car’s window slid down simultaneously. There was just the driver, dressed in a dark blue police uniform. He was about thirty, with a wide face and thick black eyebrows.
“What seems to be the problem, ma’am?” he asked.
“Did you come because of the call-the 911 call?” Her words sounded almost slurred to her.
“Are you the person who made it?”
“Yes-a woman is trying to kill me. She-she’s behind us. She tried to ram her car into mine and I think she hit something.”