Then water got into her mouth and she started to choke. Panic swept her and instinct took hold. Hardly realizing it, Laurie jerked her ankle with every bit of strength in her. She felt herself twist free in the swirling water.
The current twisted and pulled at her as she fought to the surface. She broke through into the air and gulped it in. She reached up and caught hold of rough wood. The only sound was the roar of the racing creek water and everything was inky black all around her. She realized that she had come up to the surface under the bridge.
For long moments she clung to the supporting beam of the bridge. Then she eased herself along, hand over hand, to the sandy shore beneath the bridge. She sprawled there, her legs still in the icy water, too weak to crawl any farther. She lay there, listening, but heard nothing above the noise of the torrent. She stayed without moving for what seethed like hours and then stiffly pulled herself to her feet, moved along the narrow strip of sand until she was out from under the bridge.
The moon was still bright and in its pale illumination she could see the jagged ends of the wrecked bridge railing where Roy had plunged the car through it. There was no sign of Roy. The bridge and the road were empty. Laurie found the path that led down to the edge of the water and painfully hobbled back up onto the road.
It was about three miles back to the house and it took Laurie about three hours to make it. It seemed longer. Several times she had to sit down and rest before she fell. The wet clothes clung to her, and the night breeze blowing through them set her to shivering. Her head throbbed as though it was split down the middle and her foot was swollen to double its size, but somehow she kept going. She made it just as milky streaks of dawn were beginning to filter through the night sky.
There were lights on in the big kitchen in the back of the house. She didn’t know whether Roy had awakened the folks or whether her father had just got up early. He often arose at dawn. It didn’t matter much which it was. Laurie knew what she was going to do.
The front screen door was still on the latch, and she managed to drag herself inside and shut it without making too much noise. Their bedroom door was open and she pushed into the room, saw that it was empty. She fumbled through the compartments of Roy’s suitcase and found the little .25 caliber revolver. She checked the chambers and then started toward the lights in the kitchen.
She stood quietly in the doorway for a second, the light hurting her eyes. She had forgotten how she must look, with her stringy hair and her half-wet clothes and dried blood and river-silt all over her face, until her mother accidently glanced toward the doorway and saw her standing there. Her mother’s eyes went round with horror.
There were three of them in the kitchen. Laurie’s mother in her faded wrapper, her hair up in metal curlers. Her father already in overalls, his tired, weathered face still sleepy looking. And Roy. Roy had taken off his slacks and shoes and was in his pajamas as though he’d just gotten up. He had his back to the door. He was saying:
“I know something’s wrong, Pop. It’s been nearly two hours since I awakened and found her gone and this note beside the bed. I don’t know; maybe if Laurie wasn’t such a rotten driver there’d be nothing to worry about. But I think we ought to go out and check. Even if she’s got a flat tire or motor trouble—”
Her mother’s scream chopped off his words. The old woman speared her finger toward the door and the two men spun around.
Laurie pointed the .25 at Roy. She said through puffy lips: “You slipped up, Roy. For once you slipped up. You — didn’t quite kill me.”
“Oh, lord-a-mighty, honey, what happened?” Laurie’s father cried.
“Ask him,” Laurie said. “Ask Roy. He tried to kill me.”
“She’s hurt!” Roy broke in. “She’s had an accident, got hurt in the head. Pop, get that gun away from her before she hurts somebody!”
Laurie shook her head. She felt very tired. She spoke slowly, blurredly, not to anybody in particular. “I’m not crazy. Don’t let him try to sell you that I’m crazy. There wasn’t even any wreck.” Simply, plainly, she went on to tell them what had happened.
She was halfway through when Roy started toward her. She stopped, gripped her gun tighter.
“Stay away, Roy! I don’t want to shoot you. I don’t want it that way but I’ll do it if you don’t keep away from me. It’s all over, Roy. Everything’s all over.” She suddenly realized that her voice had given way on her. She was only whispering. Then it cleared and she shouted: “Roy, do you hear me? Roy!”
Her vision swam but she saw his blurred figure rushing toward her and she felt her finger tighten on the trigger of the gun. Then for one terrible second her eyes cleared and she saw that Roy was almost upon her. She saw emotion on that handsome face of his for the first time — fear, rage, desperation.
She didn’t know that the .25 had been fired until she saw three black holes appear in the front of Roy’s silk pajama tops. She watched his hand clutch at the holes, covering them, and then she seemed to hear the sound of the shots.
Roy looked toward her as he fell and she saw that suddenly he was no longer good looking, nor young. His face was twisted and ugly, and all that was inside of him was there on the surface. It was a terrible thing to see. She remembered Roy laughing about a movie called The Picture of Dorian Gray and saying that no such thing could happen. And now it was happening to Roy.
Then the lights began to dim. For the second time that night, Laurie Willis found herself falling into smothering darkness...
When she came out of it, she was in her sister’s bed. Gin was there, with her mother and father. They were all sitting around the bed. The sheets felt cool and crisp and clean. She felt her head and it was wrapped in thick bandages. Her mother was holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be all right.
The doctor had come and gone, and the sheriff too. Laurie’s father told her that technically she was under arrest and would have to appear at the inquest, but it was just a formality. Laurie figured that was probably so, her family being what it was around these parts and the law being what it was, and with the story she had to tell. That bothered her, though. Just how much of that story should she tell? Then her father spoke up.
“Why did he do it, Laurie?” he asked gently. “Why did he try to kill you? For insurance, was it? Did he have a lot on you?”
For a moment she didn’t answer. There was some insurance on her. Not too much. About ten thousand, but with double indemnity. And she could cook up some yarn about Roy being in a financial jam. That would probably do it. That way the family wouldn’t have to know the rest of the sordid details of her life with Roy. They had been hurt and shocked enough as it was.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I guess it was for the insurance. I don’t know what else it could be.”
She forced herself to look at Gin’s tight and horrified young face. She didn’t think they’d ever have to worry about Gin anymore. This little affair had completely deglamorized the big sister who had run off to the big city and married a rich and handsome man. Now some local boy would soon be getting himself a sensible young wife. So there was something good had come of this.
Laurie closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the soft pillow. “I... I’m tired now,” she said. “I want to sleep. I’ll talk to you again in the morning.”
She listened to them tiptoing out of the room. There alone in the big white bed, she suddenly felt very small and young again, and thankful for a family and a home. It was the way she used to feel as a kid after a bad sickness. When the crisis was over and she knew she was going to get well, only more so.