What? The pain in her body was agonizing, but she was keeping lucid with an effort, her gaze surreptitiously searching for a weapon, anything she could use against him, though he was still holding her ankles in one big hand, his other clutching his rifle.
He was still railing, “Like Aggie with her ‘mental challenges’ and Kathleen with her depression. Suicidal, they claimed. But it ran deeper. Much, much deeper. A genetic flaw. The flaw of all of Gerald’s female offspring. It might not be evident early, but eventually it comes out.”
“That’s crazy,” she said with difficulty, knowing somehow she had to turn the tables on him. “You’re insane.”
He flinched, then shook it off. “Don’t,” he warned, shaking his head. “Don’t.” He drew in a shaky breath and she realized he was unraveling, what little grip he had on his mind was fraying second by second. His fingers tightened roughly over her ankles. “It doesn’t matter what you think, Acacia. Never has. Because you’re one of them. The ones that could ruin everything. The lunatic females.”
He was certifiable. He’d made up some crazy, nightmare fantasy about the female progeny of his father. “What about Clarissa?” she asked through painful, swollen lips.
“In time. . it has to be all according to the plan. . accidents. . arranged at the right time. .”
She had to get away from this maniac! She had to save herself and save Eli!
The fire popped loudly.
As if he realized he was rambling, he snapped his head quickly back and forth and the eyes that had been staring at her through his mask glared fiercely. “Enough of this! We’re done here. It’s over for you!”
Now!
With all her strength, Kacey suddenly twisted her entire body.
His fingers slipped around her ankles. “Shit!”
She was free!
Zeroing in on his crotch, she kicked upward.
Hard as she could.
Her boot connected with soft tissue.
“Oooooh!” She nailed him directly in the groin and he doubled over. “Shit!” He dragged in his breath so that it whistled through his teeth. “You. . fuckin’. . bitch!”
Quickly, while he was disabled, she scrambled backward, trying to get to her feet, bumping a shoulder into the edge of the couch, her mind still thick from the blow to her head. Where the hell was Trace? she thought wildly as she forced herself upright and sprang through the archway to the kitchen. She had to get away. Find Trace! Locate Eli! Oh dear God, had this monster already killed them both?
Her attacker was sputtering, muttering crazy invectives, moving! She heard his footsteps as he gathered himself.
“. . son of a fuckin’ bitch. . I’ll make you pay. .”
Trace’s phone was on the kitchen counter… somewhere in the dark. . if she could just get there… snag it and run out into the night, she might have a chance! She could call 9-1-1, or Alvarez or. . Her head still thundered, her mind was still thick, her face ached, but she lunged forward.
Click!
The distinctive sound of a rifle being cocked echoed through her brain.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice rough. “Not after all the years of waiting.”
The phone was less than three feet away!
She felt the cold barrel of the rifle pressing against her back.
“Move and I’ll pull the trigger,” he promised.
She froze. Heard the moan of the storm outside. Wondered what her chances were. There were knives here… sharp, deadly blades… If she could just find them in the dark. .
“A wound here—” The nose of the weapon swirled against her spine, in the small of her back, just over her buttocks, “will take a while to bleed out. And you’ll feel it, the life oozing from you.”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
But there wasn’t a roaring blast that echoed through the house. No searing pain cutting through her flesh.
Why didn’t he pull the damned trigger?
Because he wants to make it look like an accident. Just like the others. A gunshot wound to the back can only mean homicide. So, think, Kacey. You’re in the kitchen! The knives are in the block at the stove. .
“Don’t even think about it,” he whispered, as if he could read her mind. “If I have to, I’ll blow your sweet ass to hell and back.”
“Then why don’t you just—”
BAM!
Pain exploded through her brain and she crumpled to the floor.
CHAPTER 36
Trace held fast to his pitchfork. His heart was hammering, his muscles tight as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The smell of dung and urine filled his nostrils. The lights had gone out while he’d still been in the barn, still wrapping the damned pipe. He’d finished the job though it had taken longer than anticipated, then headed to the stable.
He’d noticed the house was dark, getting colder by the minute and he felt the urge to hurry, to get back to Kacey and Eli. He’d hoped she would have drawn the water and brought the boy downstairs, near the fire for warmth.
Then he’d stepped into the stable and felt something was wrong.
More than the damned electricity being out, or the worry of frozen pipes.
No, this was a danger within.
The horses were restless, almost spooked, shifting in their stalls. He heard the sounds of rustling straw, nervous snorts, and every so often an anxious whinny.
Sarge, too, was out of sorts. Stiff. He’d growled once and stared at the windowless rooms where the oats and other grains were stored. Bonzi, not knowing the drill, hadn’t been all that concerned, but his ears were up. At attention. Aware of an unseen being hidden in the darkness.
The back of Trace’s throat went dry.
An animal?
Or human?
His skin prickled under the collar of his jacket and he knew the answer. An animal would elicit a different response from his dog. This threat was definitely a person skulking in the shadows.
He thought of shouting out. Maybe it was just someone who’d come in for shelter from the storm. But why not stop at the house? Someone on the run? Someone scared?
Or someone intent on doing harm?
His heart grew stone cold.
He thought of his rifle, hidden deep in his closet, the ammunition locked away in an overhead cabinet in the kitchen. Then his mind went to Kacey alone in the house with his son.
Sarge growled again and Trace heard a noise… the tiniest squeak of the stable’s floorboards. Every muscle in his body tensed.
Blood pounding in his ears, he held his pitchfork like a spear and began moving slowly through the darkness.
“You can’t die, damn it!” a female voice whispered harshly. “Who’s going to take care of Eli? Who?”
Oh, Lord, now she was imagining things, hearing the voices of angels, Kacey thought, pain surging through her body. She fought back the urge to vomit, and when she opened a bleary eye, she saw only darkness. Lying on the kitchen floor, the room spinning, she tried to pull herself to her knees.
Agony ripped through her skull. Get up! Pull yourself together.
The house was still, aside from the wind outside. Her attacker had fled. But he would be back. She knew it. Just as she knew Eli and Trace were in danger.
If they were alive.
She listened for the voice in her head again.
Heard nothing.
And tried like hell to get to her feet.
At the Johnson estate, Alvarez glanced out to the frigid night. Where was he? Where was the killer who had wreaked so much damage? What was he doing?