“Your girlfriend Helen knew who I was?” Keep talking, Steven. Please keep talking.
“Ah, so you know about us. She came on to me first, if you’re wondering. Anyway, seems you got Sam all riled up. He blabbed everything to Helen—the old adoption, how I had killed Ben, the blackmail.” He brought my hand to his cheek. “Another mistake pretending to be Terry, sweetheart. Feldman panicked, called me over there today. ‘Do this,’ he said. ‘You have to do that.’ And he got in my face. So I pushed him. He cracked his skull. And all thanks to you.”
Thunder rumbled above. “What about your girlfriend? What will you do about her now that she knows everything?”
He smiled, and how I wished this mellow mood would last. “Helen’s a smart woman. Almost as smart as you. She won’t talk.”
“You couldn’t keep your hands off her, could you?” I said. I was running out of ways to stall him and thought maybe he’d like to brag about her for a while.
“She was married to an old man,” he said. “And you know how I can’t stand seeing a woman in need.”
“I know way more than I ever wanted to about that, Steven.”
He cupped my face in both his hands. “Jealous, babe?”
I stared into his eyes. “Yes,” I said. “I think I am.”
His thumbs pulled my mouth into a tight, painful smile. “You should smile when you lie, babe. It’s much more convincing.”
He pulled my face to his and crushed his mouth against mine, forcing his tongue between my lips. He tasted sour—foul. When I couldn’t even fake a response, he put his hand on my breast—and shoved me away.
I hit the wall again, the pain slicing through me as if I’d been shot.
“Lost that lovin’ feelin’, huh, babe?” he said, his words slurring ever so slightly.
The fear inside me seemed to be shrinking to something hard and strong, like a fist, ready to strike. Fear could help you, I thought. Fear was a powerful thing. I stood. “I’m leaving. This is over.”
He grabbed my arm, his grip like steel. “Time to finish this.”
Finish this? How? How would he kill me? As he started to drag me toward the stairs, more thunder sounded, and a vicious squall began to hammer the roof and side of the house.
“You can’t, Steven,” I said. “I know you can’t.”
His voice was cold. “You don’t know the first thing about me. You walked out of my life and nothing ever hurt so bad. I tried scaring you off the case. I loosened that board upstairs, hoping to put you out of commission, but twenty-four hours later you’re digging deeper than ever. Why couldn’t you wait until I had Feldman under control? Why?” He shook me, then pushed me, and I stumbled backward.
The phone rang.
His head jerked in that direction.
Then everything went black. The electricity had gone out.
I took off, brushing against a wall, the phone still shrieking behind me.
I heard a thud and Steven cursed.
I rushed through the empty dining room into the kitchen. Felt my way to the counter and swept with my hand, searching, sending twisted paper bags flying and plastic liter bottles clattering to the floor.
Where is it? I saw it thirty minutes ago! I saw it!
I was trembling all over as I groped for what I needed, wishing my eyes would adjust quicker.
There!
Steven found me, took hold of my shoulders, and spun me around.
I drew back as his breath blew warm and menacing near my forehead.
“Got you!” he said.
I felt for his face. For a landmark. And sprayed him with the roach killer.
He yelled and let go of me.
I ran for the back door, slamming my hip on the counter along the way. I nearly tripped over the rubble still littering the mudroom floor, but stayed close to the intact inner wall. I made it out the door.
And realized that the water had risen to knee-deep, and was all roaring motion.
A flash flood. God, no!
But I walked out anyway, pushing through the current with one leg, then the other. I stayed clear of the trees, knowing how water moccasins slithered up the trunks to avoid being swept away. I didn’t want to cross paths with one of them.
Even though I couldn’t run, my canvas shoes gave me an advantage. Steven’s cowboy boots would be far more cumbersome.
I moved toward the car, fighting for every step, digging in my pocket for the keys.
Then I heard Steven splashing and sloshing behind me.
I trudged on, and finally tugged the keys out. I pointed the remote at the outline of the 4Runner in the distance, but couldn’t hear if the locks released. I struggled on, panting and gasping, and when I finally reached the door handle, my legs buckled. I leaned against the vehicle for support.
Hurry, Abby. He’s coming.
I lifted the handle. The remote key hadn’t worked. Damn!
I took a deep breath and fit the key in the lock.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I heard the blessed sound of the locks releasing and climbed into the 4Runner, pressing the auto lock to keep Steven out. I closed my eyes, fighting for air, my head resting on the steering wheel.
A voice inside was screaming for me to drive, to get moving! But my hands were shaking and I had trouble finding the ignition.
It seemed like forever before I started the engine... turned on the headlights. I licked my dry lips and shifted into reverse.
In the side mirror I saw the raging waters surging through the street, carrying trash cans, lawn chairs, and tree limbs. I maneuvered out, praying I’d find the road—otherwise I might get caught in the ditch. As the 4Runner swung out, the headlights panned the yard between the two houses.
I spotted Steven flailing in the rising waters, not moving in any purposeful direction. He must be stuck in the soft ground or tangled in debris. I shifted gears and slowly edged forward in the river that used to be P Street, guessing at the position of the driveway. Using the mailbox as a guide, I pulled in as close as I could.
Steven fell, probably to his knees, because the water was up to his chest.
No matter what he’d done, or threatened to do, I couldn’t leave knowing a human being would surely die if I did so. I could never live with that.
I picked up the phone and called 911.
And listened to the ring... six times... seven.
We weren’t the only ones who needed help tonight.
I rolled down my window.
“Can you get up?” I yelled.
But he was drunk, not to mention incapacitated by water that had probably risen six inches since my escape to the car.
I heard a muffled “What is your emergency?” coming from the phone in my lap. I gave the address, but I knew by the time help arrived it would be too late for him. I clicked the phone off and squinted out into the darkness. If I waded out to him, he’d pull me down in his panic or his rage.
So I needed a rope.
I climbed over the front seat searching for one, but of course found nothing but Kate’s usual folders and library books. And laundry for the dry cleaners.
It might work. I could make it work.
I hurriedly knotted several pairs of linen pants, silk shirts, and a black crepe dress together, twisting them as I tied. I only hoped the line would be long enough as I got out of the 4Runner and attached one end to the front bumper.
With the headlights to guide me, I started toward Steven, but fear nearly overwhelmed me then. Nearly took over every muscle. I was a quivering bundle of undirected energy. Steven might finish me off if I got to him. Drown me.
Don’t be a fool, Abby. Leave him!