They would have had a wonderful wedding. And a wonderful marriage. Jessie Lee pursed her lips. She could almost hear Erwin’s voice.
“I don’t care if I’m not allowed. I’m looking anyway.”
It was Erwin’s voice. Outside the locker room.
“You can’t go in there, Erwin.” Rick Hortach, the town treasurer. “You’ll ruin it for the rest of us.”
“I need to know if she’s in there, Rick. Get out of my way.”
Taylor stood up, but his partner said, “I’ll handle it—I’m dressed for it,” and walked around the corner to the locker room entrance.
Jessie Lee flushed with hope. She had to warn Erwin somehow, had to let him know what was happening.
“I’m sorry, sir.” Taylor’s partner talking. “You’ll have to wait your turn.”
“I’m looking for my fiancée, Jessie Lee Sloan. Is she in here?”
“ERWIN!” Jessie Lee screamed. She screamed with everything she had, until her shoulders quaked and her throat felt like it caught fire. But all that came out was a high-pitched hiss.
“Miss Sloan was here. She left about five minutes ago, with her lottery check.”
“HELP ME!” Jessie Lee tried to stand up, but Taylor swung his leg over her and straddled her lap. She twisted and shoved, and he wrapped a hand in her hair and forced her head back. Jessie Lee felt his lips, and then his warm teeth, on her neck.
“Why isn’t her name crossed off the list, then?”
“We’re getting around to it.”
“I’d like to take a look anyway.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not allowed.”
“ERWIN!” she cried out, one last time. The tears came fast but silent, and her chest heaved with sobs.
“You think you have a chance at getting away?” Taylor said, his breath hot on her ear. “No one gets away.”
Taylor nipped at her throat, and she shook her head NO NO NO NO NO …
“I know she’s in there,” Erwin said. “Get out of my way.”
Jessie Lee looked toward the entrance and saw Erwin—big, strong, wonderful Erwin—stride around the corner, his hands clenched into fists. He focused on the stack of bodies in the shower room and his mouth hung open.
“HERE!” Jessie Lee yelled. “I’M HERE!”
And Erwin’s eyes met hers and pierced her with hope, and then he was rushing at Taylor, bellowing in rage, arms open to grab him.
The knife appeared in Taylor’s hand so fast it was almost magic, and he leapt up and smoothly punched the blade into Erwin’s chest.
Erwin gasped. He fell to his knees, looked longingly at Jessie Lee, and then pitched forward onto his face.
Jessie Lee ran to the man she loved, burying her face into his back, trying to get her hands under him to put pressure on the wound even though his heart had already stopped beating.
She was so preoccupied with her efforts that Jessie Lee didn’t even feel it when Taylor came up behind her and slit her throat.
Fran hugged Duncan to her and stared at the man they’d almost run over. He stood in the middle of the road, only a few feet in front of their car. Tall, in camouflage military fatigues and a matching helmet, some sort of weapon strapped to his shoulder. He had his hands over his head and was waving, trying to flag them down.
“Drive!” Fran told Josh.
Mathison had other ideas. He hopped onto the dashboard and pointed at the man, hooting and chirping.
The man smiled and yelled, “Mathison?”
Josh glanced at Fran. “Your call. We can talk to him, or leave.”
“Hello?” The man took a step forward. “Do you have a monkey in there?”
Duncan looked up at her. “It’s his monkey, Mom. We should give him back.”
Fran used her fingertips to brush the bangs from her son’s eyes. He hadn’t lost his ability to trust people, to look on the good side of things, even after the night he’d endured. Fran didn’t think she could ever trust anyone in a uniform again.
“I’m a scientist,” the man said. “I’m here to help. Look, I’m putting down this weapon. I’m not even sure what it is.”
Fran had a tense moment when he unslung the big shotgun, but he quickly set it down on the road and raised his hands over his head.
“What do you think?” Josh asked.
Her gut told her they should leave. Even if Mathison did belong to this man, it could be sorted out later. Fran’s primary concern was Duncan’s safety.
“No one helped us, Mom. After the crash.”
Fran couldn’t believe that came from his lips. Duncan never talked about the accident. Not even in therapy. But she often wondered if he thought about it as often as she did.
It had been late, almost midnight. They were driving home from the annual rodeo in Spooner, a neighboring town. Just ten minutes away from home, her husband, Charles, had slowed down to take a sharp turn on the winding country road. Some nameless driver—either drunk or careless—had taken no such precaution, taking up both lanes and forcing Charles to swerve into the woods to avoid a collision.
Their car went down an embankment and hit a tree, rolling them over and trapping them inside. Charles had been horribly injured. But Fran remained hopeful. They had crashed only a few yards off the road. Someone would see them. Someone would stop.
Twenty-three cars passed them up that night. Fran knew, because she counted. As each one approached, she prayed they would see the wreck and help. Each time, her prayers had gone unanswered.
It took two hours for Charles to bleed to death. And another hour before they were finally discovered. She remembered talking to Duncan during that time, soothing him, even as her husband’s life spilled out of his wounds and onto her face. Fran assumed Duncan had blocked the memory. Apparently he hadn’t. She looked at her son now, so earnest, so strong, so full of hope, and felt such overwhelming pride it made her chest hurt.
“Okay,” she told Josh. “Let’s talk to him.”
Josh opened the car door and craned his head out the opening. But just as he began to speak, Mathison jumped off the dash and galloped to the man, leaping into his arms. Fran let out a long breath as she watched the happy reunion, her apprehension dropping a notch. The monkey hugged the man, the man hugged the monkey, and both parties engaged in some back patting. Then Mathison jumped down to the street and hopped back into the car, sitting on Duncan’s lap and prompting a delighted squeal from her son.
“I take it you two know each other,” Josh said to the man.
“We go back a long ways. May I approach? I’m guessing some bad things have happened tonight and you’re spooked.”
Fran nodded at Josh.
“Okay, you can come closer. But please keep your hands where I can see them. We’ve had one helluva night.”
The man walked forward, keeping his arms raised. He stopped next to Josh’s door and squatted. Up close Fran saw that he was older, perhaps late fifties, and so thin his Adam’s apple looked enormous. His helmet was askew, revealing a bald head dotted with liver spots. He smiled, his front teeth slightly crooked.
“I’m Dr. Ralph Stubin. You’ve met Mathison, I see.”
Woof walked over and gave Stubin a sniff, then began to bark.