The lights were on, so she assumed someone was around. Maybe the rain was pounding the roof so hard that they couldn’t hear her. Shrugging her shoulders to her ears, she stepped back into the deluge and began peering through the windows. It didn’t take long before she found an employee—a man wearing headphones while he vacuumed the dining room.
Vanessa shouted and rapped her knuckles against the window, then waved her arms above her head. The man didn’t notice. He remained blissfully ignorant of her presence as he finished vacuuming, wrapped the cord, and strode into the next room.
Vanessa sighed and returned to the porch. She sat down, resting against the door. Her eyes roved the long, bow-shaped driveway. There was a red Ford parked at the far end, which must be the car Donny had bought Evelyn. Behind that, there was a Buick convertible.
Her eyes narrowed. Where had she seen it before? It couldn’t belong to one of the employees—in a town as small as Wilfred, automobiles were as recognizable as the people they belonged to. But if it belonged to a guest, why did it look so familiar?
When the realization came, it brought a crushing sensation with it. She had seen the Buick in Lexington—she had parked beside it when she arrived at the steakhouse for the group date. The car belonged to Alek Cary.
Jumping to her feet, she pounded on the door harder than before, then screamed, begging to be let in. When there was still no response, she looked to her left and right, then she jumped into a flower bed. She gripped the edges of a terracotta pot, hefted it, and hurled it through a window.
24
Evelyn screamed, releasing both physical and emotional agony until she could scream no more. Then, gripping her left knee with both hands, she let out soft whimpers of pain.
“Well, you have a powerful set of lungs.” Alek stood over her, his hands on his hips. “I thought the sun would set before I could get another word in.”
Despite her pain, Evelyn took a deep breath and hissed, “I hate you.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Now you do. But you loved me before, I could tell. You see, I’ve gotten very good at fooling people. I practiced for years, even studying theater before pursuing my certificate in massage therapy.”
His eyes closed, and he licked his lips. “I couldn’t have chosen a better career. Wrapping my hands around so many supple necks…it’s like hours of foreplay that I get paid for.” When he opened his eyes, his pupils were dilated and full of lust. “But I’ve sidetracked myself, haven’t I?”
Dragging a chair closer to Evelyn, he sat down as if to read a book to her. “Only two people have seen through my charade as far as I know. The first was my mother, and the second was your dear friend, Donny.”
Seeing confusion on her face, he smiled and continued. “That’s right, my mother’s hatred was completely justified. I was a clingy child, valuing my mother’s affection more than anything in the world. I was too young to remember when my father left us, but I can vividly recall when he came back into our life. It was my eighth birthday, and he walked through the front door like he had never left.”
Alek’s enthusiasm waned. “And just like that, Mom took him back. It disgusted me, how much she loved him. And she had no affection left for me; it was like I didn’t exist anymore. I hated my father. He would take me to baseball games, go fishing with me, even let me ride in the front seat of the car, all to try to win my love. But it only made me hate him more. He just waltzed in and claimed his American dream, and my mother let him.”
Evelyn didn’t care about his life story. The pain was so bad, she could barely keep from passing out. Clenching her jaw, she stretched out with her elbow and pulled herself toward the door.
“Am I boring you?” Alek asked. His voice sounded genuinely apologetic. “I’ll just fill in the blanks, then. My father really did die in a car crash. But I was the one who caused it. I knew if I timed it perfectly, my father would die and I would end up horribly wounded. I’d have months to bathe in my mother’s comfort as I recovered from my injuries, and after that, it would be her and me again. Just the two of us, like we were meant to be.”
He put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. “But apparently, she saw through my little scheme. She abandoned me because she knew the truth, though she could never prove it. She couldn’t stand the thought of raising the boy who killed her husband.”
Evelyn felt his sweaty palms around her neck. She dug her chin into his fingers, trying to make room for air, but he was too strong.
“I hope you enjoyed my story,” he cooed. “I’ve never been able to share it before. Not entirely.” He squeezed tighter and said, “Goodbye, Evelyn.”
The world was fading away, consumed from the outside in, disappearing into a creeping blackness. The books that Evelyn had adored vanished from view, and all that was left was a narrow cylinder of colorless carpet. She could still hear Alek whispering in her ear, but she couldn’t make out the words. The hypoxia dulled her pain, fear, and regret, leaving behind nothing but mild irritation. Moments ago, she had been stricken with dread over the thought of dying. Now, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
There was another noise, like wood slamming against wood, and the pressure around her neck vanished. As oxygen filtered through her lungs and pumped into her brain, the lounge slowly returned to normal. First, the darkness began to ebb. Then there was color, and noise, and chaos.
Vanessa ran across the lobby and tore open the first door she saw. It led to a storage room beneath the stairs, and no one was inside. She closed the door, backtracked, and bounded up the stairs. She checked every room in one guest wing then doubled back and searched the other wing.
Grunting in frustration, she slammed the last door and ran down the stairs. The man wearing the headphones entered the lobby at the far end, but he didn’t seem to notice her.
Evelyn shouted, “Call the police,” then sprinted down the next hallway on the left. She checked the West Lounge, the Library, and the Sunroom, but they were all unoccupied.
“Rich people,” she grunted. “How much friggin space do they need?” She spotted a plain-looking door at the east end of the hallway and ran toward it. It looked like nothing more than a storage closet, but she was running out of options. As she approached, another room caught her eye. The East Lounge.
Pivoting, she changed directions, grabbed the door, and flung it open. The door crashed against the wood paneling on the wall, and she stepped inside.
Her eyes locked with Alek’s. Looking through the windows to his soul, she saw neither hatred nor shame. There was only need.
Alek let go of Evelyn’s neck and rose to his feet. “This day keeps getting better,” he said, giving her a brilliant smile.
Vanessa didn’t move. To Alek, she would have looked frozen in fear, but she was, in fact, planning a sophisticated attack. She only hesitated because she didn’t want to telegraph her intentions. When Alek stepped over Evelyn’s prone form and placed his weight on his left foot, Vanessa made her move.
She launched herself forward, wrapped her arms around his torso, tucked her left leg behind his, and swung her right leg out. The weight and momentum of her body carried him halfway across the room, and he landed on his back. For a moment, he stared up at the ceiling, stunned. Vanessa took full advantage, wrapping the crook of her right knee around his neck and straightening his left arm. She locked out his elbow and leaned back to add more torque.
Alek roared like a bear defending his kill. Every muscle in his body tightened, and he sat forward, lifting her off the ground. She squeezed tighter with her leg and tried to keep pressure on his arm, but he was too strong. Slowly, his arm curled away from her, then he twisted and slammed her against the floor. She shook off the impact, having suffered far worse at the hands of her Hapkido instructor. After taking a split-second to spot her next opening, she released his neck, spun her hips around, and used the momentum to twist his wrist.