CHAPTER SIXTEEN:Linda’s AbductionWhen Linda Childers heard the dingof the microwave, she carefully placed a bookmark in the Ruth Ware paperback she was reading and got up from the cushy recliner, leaving the book on the end table. In the kitchen she took her Banquet meal out of the microwave, sitting it on the counter to cool for a few minutes, while she made herself a cup of herbal tea. She placed the meal and her teacup on a tray and carried it all back to the living room. Settling on the sofa, she placed the tray on the coffee table in front of her. She turned on the television and found a rerun of Murder She Wrote and began to have supper.This was a nightly ritual, though aspects of it changed. Sometimes her frozen meal was lasagna, other times macaroni and cheese, still other times beef stroganoff. The television program varied, depending on what was on, but it was typically some rerun, since she didn’t find most modern shows appealing. If not Murder She Wrote, then To
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:Mommy Dearest“I think I know her,” Patrick said.Clare glanced back at him. “Really? You do?”“Not personally or anything, but she looks so familiar. I think I remember seeing news stories about her disappearance.”Turning her gaze to the woman once again, she scanned her features to see if they sparked any memory, but there was nothing. Not surprising. Clare didn’t pay much attention to the news, local or global, and that had become even truer since she started dating Hank. She could admit that she had turned into one of those girls who thought of nothing but her relationship, doodling hearts with arrows through them and writing her first name with his last name. Silly high school stuff from a girl who claimed not to believe in fairytales but still expected her life to turn out like one.Even after she’d been abducted, such fantasies persisted. After all, most fairytales had a dark period before the happily ever after. Cinderella had to flee the ball, Snow Wh
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:Ashes to AshesSue Barrett layin bed, resting on her left side with her back to her husband. Her body was balanced precariously on the very edge of the mattress, on the verge of toppling onto the floor. Behind her she could hear her husband snoring softly, had been listening to the sound for hours. According to the clock, it was nearing 9 a.m., which meant they’d been in bed almost four hours, and she’d been awake the entire time, watching as the darkness gradually gave way to a grainy light through the windows.Listening to Phil’s snores.She found herself baffled that he could sleep, baffled and angry that he could find escape in slumber so easily after everything. She simply couldn’t shut her mind off, thoughts churning and twisting like laundry in a dryer. Any time she closed her eyes, she saw a blaze reflected on the backs of her lids and adrenaline pumped into her system, taking sleep even further out of her reach. She groped for it, and it would shrin
CHAPTER NINETEEN:The Attic“I killed her,”Patrick said again, dropping to his knees. Distantly, he heard Clare saying his name, but it was small and tinny, as if coming through a radio with a bad connection. Or as if he were at the bottom of a deep well and she were calling down to him from the top.All he could think about at the moment was the fact that in a matter of a few hours, he had killed first a dog then graduated to killing another human being. Acts of which he would have thought himself incapable of a mere week ago.While Patrick didn’t go so far as to actually call himself a practicing Buddhist, he did have great respect for their philosophies and had spent some time visiting with a Buddhist monk at the Cambodian wat in Wellford. One of the things that resonated the most with Patrick was the Buddhist belief that all life was precious. Not just human life, but all life. Buddhists tended to be vegetarians and didn’t wear leather, but it went even deeper than that.
CHAPTER TWENTY:Rise and ShineSheila Ramsey wasthe nurse on duty when Bernie Wilson woke up.She wasn’t supposed to be. Teddi Gibbs was on the schedule, but she claimed to have come down with some kind of stomach bug and said she couldn’t possibly come to work. Janice had pulled Sheila in because technically it was one of her on-call days.When the phone rang at six this morning and Sheila had squinted at the caller ID to see the hospital’s number, she’d been tempted to ignore the call and let it go to voicemail. In fact, the first time she didn’t answer, but then thirty seconds later the phone started to ring again and with a groan and a curse, she’d snatched up the phone and barked a bristling, “Yeah?”And now here she was, working a twelve hour shift when she’d stayed out at the Gaslight Bar near the airport until they closed at 2 a.m. She was exhausted, hung over, and plotting a million different ways to torture Teddi. At thirty-nine, she simply didn’t bounce back from
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE:Going DownClare tried toturn her focus away from the pain, but the truth was her leg hurt like a sonofabitch. She could see that the cuts weren’t deep and the bleeding was sluggish, the wounds already scabbing over, yet they throbbed and pulsed with living fire. She wondered about infection, but surely it would take longer than a few minutes for that to set in.Patrick was taking more than a few minutes himself. He’d gone to search for a hammer and screwdriver at least fifteen minutes ago, she’d guess. She heard the sounds of rummaging from time to time. She also listened for the sounds of a car approaching outside.They were so close to getting out. In a suspense film this would be the exact moment that Big Daddy would return. The fear, like the pain, burned inside her, but she tried to ignore it, to push past it. She needed to stay strong. Later, after they were through this and were safe, she could break down, but not now.A small gasp escaped her lip
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:Through the WoodsPatrick and Clarestarted down the dirt road toward the wooded area, he with the rod in his hands and her with the beam. They didn’t really discuss it, but Patrick certainly wasn’t ready to get rid of his weapon and even wished he’d thought to bring along the knife from the kitchen as well. He wouldn’t feel safe until they were sitting in a police station, telling their story to a room full of officers.Only that wasn’t the truth. He would possibly never feel safe again. He may always want a weapon handy wherever he went, even in his own home.Just as they reached the tree line, the path stretching under the overhanging branches to give the impression of entering a tunnel, Clare said, “Maybe we should get off the road. You know, in case Big Daddy comes back.”“Good idea, but let’s stay close enough that we can sort of see the road. I’d hate for us to get turned around and lost in the woods.”They walked a few feet into the trees then sta
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:Daddy’s Home“You two havebeen naughty children,” the man said, his voice calm, even a bit chipper as if he and Patrick were engaged in a pleasant chat. “Where’s your mother?”At first, Patrick couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. He stared at the gun as if hypnotized by it. The opening at the end of the barrel seemed so small yet so large at the same time. It was hard to believe that a projectile propelled out of that hole could cause so much destruction. Patrick had gotten into a few scrapes and physical altercations in his life, but until this moment he’d never had a gun pointed at him. Not even a cap gun when he was a child, as far as he could remember. He found the experience utterly debilitating.Big Daddy smiled, not a menacing smile, but again one that looked almost congenial. “I could tell you were going to be a feisty one from the first time I saw you running. So much energy and stamina. A boy a father could be proud of, if only you turned that energ