Chapter 6
Erin raised the joint to her lips and drew deeply, sucking the smoke down her throat and into the inner recesses of her lungs. Did it really help? she asked herself. Or was it just a home-rolled placebo? She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to believe it brought her relief. Because she very much needed relief.
She lay back in the bathtub, surrounded by bubble bath and eight scented candles, Enya on the CD player. One way or another, she had to calm herself. She had to make it better. She had to make up for what she had done.
Visiting Kincaid was a start, maybe, but only that. She was haunted by what he had said. You need to go to the DA. Tell them. At some basic instinctual level, she knew he was right. But what would be the result? Most likely, they would totally disregard what she said and do nothing. As the lawyer had pointed out, the law enforcement community was never anxious to admit that they had made a mistake, much less that they came perilously close to executing an innocent man. They would be more likely to write off what she said to the histrionics of a guilt-ridden girl. A sole survivor. A born-again babe trying to do her good deed for the day. There was no way she could make them act, could force them to listen.
Wait a minute. Maybe there was. She didn’t have to start with the prosecutors. What if she started at the Tulsa World? She could call up Debbie Jackson at the city desk, tell her what she knew. If the World heard that an innocent man was about to be executed, they would almost certainly run a story. Maybe several stories. The anti-death-penalty faction would take up the banner. This would be a dream case for them. A tormented young woman-and quite attractive, if she did think so herself-trying to prevent a gross miscarriage of justice. If they stirred up enough trouble, the law enforcement people would have to do something.
Now that was a plan, she thought, and she took another deep and satisfying drag. The hot water soaked into her skin. She could feel the tension-some of it, anyway-melting away. She did what she did, all those years ago, and there was no way she could justify it-not even to herself. All she could hope to do was make it better by telling the world her secret. One of them, anyway. Perhaps revealing the one would make it easier for her to live with the other.
That was the right thing to do, she realized. That’s what would make her daddy proud. Daddy was not… a perfect man. He did things that were wrong. Very wrong. But he would never have stood idly by and let an innocent man be killed without trying to stop it. She had been silent far too long already. She would do whatever she could and perhaps she would finally-
Erin ’s head jerked to one side. Did she hear something? Downstairs.
She would’ve heard a doorbell. Did someone knock? She wasn’t expecting anybody. She tried to remember whether she’d locked the door. Sheila was always hassling her about that. But she just never thought about it, not until she was locking up to go to sleep.
She sat up. The movement made the water in the bath slosh around, just enough noise to prevent her from hearing anything downstairs. But there was something. Wasn’t there? She wasn’t imagining it. She hit a button on the remote to shut off the CD player. Now if the water would just stop moving…
It was faint, but she was certain she heard a squeaking noise. A slow, continuous squeaking.
Someone had opened the back door.
Erin pushed out of the bath, grabbed a towel, and headed for her nightstand. It was hard to walk without her cane, but she had to get there, and she had to get there fast. Because that was where she kept her gun.
It was just a little thing, a snub-nosed pistol. But after everything she had seen in her short life, she liked having it around. She needed to know it was right beside her, all through the night.
She lurched to the far end of her bedroom, water dripping from her, holding the towel with one hand-and the gun with the other. There was another noise. Or did she imagine it?
Sheila had asked a million times if she wanted a roommate. Erin had always said no, that she preferred to live alone. Which was only half the truth. She was still so messed up, so insecure and… downright weird, that she thought it would be embarrassing to share a place with someone, even her best friend. For that matter, if she hadn’t been so screwed in the head, she’d probably have a husband by now. Maybe James, if not for his… eccentricities. Either way, she wouldn’t be living alone. She’d have someone to protect her. But she never allowed that. Everyone who came near her got rebuffed in strong and certain terms. She didn’t let them get close.
That had been a mistake.
Did she actually hear someone coming up the stairs, or was her imagination out of control? She couldn’t be sure. There wasn’t much noise-if there was any at all-but there was something. Wasn’t there?
She extended her gun arm. “Look, whoever you are. I’m armed. I’ll shoot.”
Silence. Absolute silence.
Erin ’s heart was beating like a jackrabbit’s. She felt so vulnerable, so… naked. If she could get to her clothes closet, she could throw something on. But she knew that would be dumb. If there was someone else in the house, that would give whoever the perfect opportunity to… do whatever they wanted to do. She would not be stupid, like some bimbo teenager in a horror film. She would be strong. She would be smart.
Then the lights went out. Erin started hyperventilating, gasping for air. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything.
The breaker box was in the hallway, next to the heater. So now she knew two things for certain: There was someone else in the house. And they were not far away.
Maybe she should take the offensive, she thought-run out in the hallway, gun firing. She didn’t know if she could make herself do it, though. Walking was always a challenge, and at the moment her legs were shaking so profoundly she could barely stand. At least here, in the bedroom, a tiny amount of light came through the window.
Wait a minute! How could she be so stupid? There was a phone on the night stand! Watching the door, still holding the gun in one trembling hand, she picked up the receiver.
There was no dial tone. But it had worked just fine half an hour ago.
Her visitor must have taken the phone off the hook downstairs.
She pounded her fists against the bed. Why was this happening to her? Why was it happening-again? What had she ever done to deserve this?
“Listen to me, you son of a bitch!” she screamed. “I’m carrying a gun. And I will use it!” Just to prove the point, she fired at the ceiling.
The recoil sent her tumbling backward into the night stand. She lost her balance and fell to the carpet. Her hand hurt. She instinctively dropped the gun.
After that, it was all over. A dark shadow at the other end of the room told her the visitor had entered the room. A black shoe darted out and kicked the gun away. An outstretched hand ripped away her towel.
Erin crumpled, curling up in a fetal ball pressed against the wall, quivering with fear. “Y-y-you’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?”