by Krista Wolf
Everything was going great… until the one day Ryan came home not smiling. My heart sank. Right away I thought something was wrong.
“What is it?” I said worriedly.
“It’s not that bad,” he said, holding his hands up. He forced a smile to ease my fears. “But I have to go away for a little while.”
I was wearing lingerie and an apron, holding my favorite wooden spoon. I’d wanted to give him a sexy surprise, but now red sauce was dripping onto the kitchen floor.
“How long is a little while?”
“At least a month. Maybe two, tops.”
Two months…
It was a lot. Then again, it wasn’t a deployment. It was an assignment, with an end date, an end goal. He’d be back soon. Just not too soon.
“It’s cool,” I smiled, trying to look braver than I felt. “Two months is nothing.”
He cocked his head, trying to gauge my true reaction. “But you’ll be alone…”
“So?”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I licked the spoon and winked. “I’ve been alone before. It’s no big deal.”
“Yeah, but in this house…” He motioned around. “This place is big, and old, and—”
“It’s just a house,” I said, although I didn’t mean that statement at all. Just a house! That was like saying the Superbowl was ‘just’ a football game.
“Really,” I assured him. “I’ll be fine.” He looked at me skeptically. “And I’ll be here when you get back, Ryan. Waiting for you.” I smiled. “All of you.”
We had dinner, which was delicious I might add, and even splurged for dessert. He wasn’t leaving for a week, but I still wanted every day, every detail to be special. Honestly, I already knew what he was thinking. That in being here alone, I might change my mind. It was the reason they’d created the ad in the first place; to find a shared girlfriend. One who would never have to be alone, because at least one or more of them would always be home.
And now this.
“Go,” I said, as we lay in bed our last night together. “Do your thing Ryan, and don’t worry at all about me.”
We were wrapped in each other — a tangle of arms and legs and of course, my hair. Always my hair. Still, he was silent. More so than normal.
“I’m serious. Everything’s going to be great.”
He left the next morning, after yet another spectacular sendoff. I watched the car roll away — the same one that had taken Kyle and Dakota away — all the way to the end of the driveway. Then it turned past the hedge, and I was left staring at an empty expanse of road.
The house was uncharacteristically silent. As if it knew I were alone, and was trying to sneak up on me.
I locked the door. Engaged the alarm.
And drew myself a nice hot bath.
Forty-One
SAMMARA
If the house seemed quiet without Kyle and Dakota, it was absolutely dead with Ryan gone too. I tried making up for it by leaving the television on, and playing music whenever I was home so I didn’t feel so alone.
Ryan was still in country, meaning he was only a few States away. Whatever he’d been assigned to had been local enough, and short enough, that I’d have him back before I knew it.
Still, it might as well have been a million miles.
For the first week or two, I had Melissa over almost every day. She’d been to the house a few times, and had even met Ryan. It was nice having a guest, and someone to talk to. She even slept over one Saturday night, after a long sappy movie and a few too many margaritas.
It wasn’t until midway through the third week that things got really lonely.
We’d already put the last few renovation projects on hold while the guys were away. They just felt safer like that, and so did I. To occupy my time, I was doing some of the more meticulous restoration myself. I was up on stepladders a lot, rubbing away decades worth of dirt and grime with soft chamois rags so as not to scratch the paint or finish.
But I was happy. Keeping busy. Trying not to think about being alone, and instead focusing on how much fun the house would be when the guys got back.
Then came the Monday I went to work… and my whole world fell apart.
I went to open the office, and found the place entirely empty. The phones were gone. Our little conference table, the coffee maker, the refrigerator — everything was missing! All except for my desk, which had been pushed off to one side.
Oh my God!
I rushed through the front area, across the empty floor. My hands were already trembling when I opened the door the warehouse, and flipped on the light.
The whole warehouse was empty.
Everything I owned… gone.
“NO!”
My shouts echoed back from the cold cinder-block walls, reverberated from the corrugated steel roll-up door. I was frightened, then angry, then totally dismayed.
I called Dawn immediately, from my cellphone. She picked up on the first ring.
“Dawn!” I gasped. “We’ve been robbed! The office! T—They took everything, they took—”
“Sammara calm down,” she said, and immediately I knew something was off. She was too calm. Too relaxed.
Like she knew.
“Did you hear what I said? The warehouse is empty! All my stuff, all your stuff…” I could barely speak, much less form a coherent sentence. “All of our stuff—”
“We didn’t get robbed you jackass,” Dawn said flatly. Her voice was cold now. Colder and icier than I’d ever heard it. “I came and took it.”
For a full ten seconds I couldn’t even speak. My brain wasn’t working. I couldn’t wrap my mind around what she’d just said.
“It was mostly mine anyway,” Dawn went on. “And so I moved it. You haven’t been around, Sammara. You haven’t been putting in any effort.” She let out an annoyed sigh. “We’ve been losing money for months, and it’s mostly your fault. In fact—”
“Half of that stuff is mine!” I screamed. “It was never yours to begin with!”
I could visualize her ugly smirk over the phone, even without seeing it.
“It is now.”
I was stunned. Completely at a loss. I felt betrayed. Helpless…
“Why would you take my things?” I said brokenly.
“Because I need them,” said Dawn. “I’m going to make a run at this, Sammara. By myself. Without the burden of you.” She paused before going on. “Maybe you’re not as serious about this as I am. You got all caught up in your lakehouse. Too preoccupied with your boyfriends to care about what we’d built together.”
Boyfriends…
The word dropped from her lips with such malice, such acid disdain. So that’s what this was about. I could sense anger in her voice now, where a moment ago there was indifference. Dawn wasn’t just doing this for business, she was doing it for personal reasons.
She was doing it out of spite.
“You can’t just—”
“I can, Sammara,” she interrupted. Hearing her say my full name now was a little bizarre. “I can and I have. None of this stuff is yours anymore, it’s mine. You couldn’t prove differently even if you wanted to.”
My mouth was bone dry. My chest was heaving, but I couldn’t catch my breath.
“I left you your computer, and all the stuff in your desk. Rent’s paid until the end of the month, so you have that long to move it.”
I thought about my furniture. All the pieces I’d collected, old and new. All the years I’d spent amassing them. Staging homes, and creating looks with them…
“I’m sorry this didn’t work out,” Dawn finished. She wasn’t even trying to sound sad. It was awful. “Goodbye Sammara.”
I stood there holding the phone, unable to move. I felt physically ill. Like I was actually going to throw up.
All of your stuff…
For the next half hour I fought off a debilitating panic attack. Worse than anything I’d ever experienced before.
E
verything.
I drove home. It was all I could do. I drove all the back to the lakehouse, crying the whole way.
I couldn’t call Melissa. She and her husband were away on some road trip to visit her in-laws. Bothering her would only make me cry harder, and that wouldn’t help. I considered Kyle, or Dakota, or Ryan. One or more of them might be available. Yet each time I picked up the phone, I stopped before I pressed the button.
I was finally alone, and I wanted them to think me strong. Looking weak right now would worry them. It would make me too much like the others…
To make matters worse, it began pouring rain. I could barely see anything, even with the windshield wipers on full blast. It made the ride longer, more agonizing. I just wanted to get the hell home.
Coming up the driveway the house was depressingly dark and lonely. Even parking as close as I could, I was totally soaked during the short run from my jeep to the front door. A minute later I was blissfully inside, engaging the alarm, shedding my wet clothing and wringing out my hair. I wished like hell there were a fire. I turned on every light I could as I moved through the rooms, stopping in the kitchen to pull a bottle of red from the wine rack.
Fuck!
I’d been so stupid! The business was in Dawn’s name. Ditto for the lease. In retrospect, I’d been far too trusting. Way too foolish not to even partially protect myself.
Swallowing my anger, I went over my options. All of them sucked. Suing her for my things would require a lawyer, and now I had no job. Besides, we’d bought so many things together it would be impossible to separate the two. She even had the receipts.
My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get the cork out. Even half a glass of wine later, I felt no better.
What next?
Thunder rumbled off in the distance — a grim portent of just how fucked I really was. In reality I had nothing. No one. For right now at least, I was stuck.
Draining the glass, I poured another and headed into the living room. Suddenly I wanted to sit on the couch. Lay back on the cushions and wallow in my loneliness, drinking wine and—
THUNK.
All at once the lights went out. Every last one of them.
Great. Just great!
I stiffened in the darkness, trying to keep myself together as an icy fear crept over me. I was alone. Sitting in the pitch blackness…
It’s probably a blown fuse. Or a tripped breaker.
The thought gave me a little bit of courage. I even got up. Then again, I didn’t even know where the breaker box was. Probably the basement. And there was no way in hell I was going down there alone.
Or more likely a power outage. There is a storm outside, you know.
That would be even worse. I’d have to sit here in the darkness, alone and afraid. Waiting for the lights to come back on.
Get it together, Sammara. You’re stronger than this.
Slowly my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in through the windows. It wasn’t much — almost nothing, really. But as soon as I could make out the obstacles in my way, I started walking.
My phone was in the kitchen. I could use it as a flashlight… maybe start looking for candles, or even a real flashlight.
CLINK!
I froze. A noise floated in from the foyer. I recognized it immediately, and my heart began pounding out of my chest.
It was the high-pitched, almost musical tinkle… of breaking glass.
Forty-Two
SAMMARA
Slowly I crept back into the kitchen. I could hear the rain now, much louder than before. As if a window was open… or broken.
Sammara, hide!
It was my first instinct, my gut reaction. I knew I should’ve went with it, but there was also a battle going on in my head. The battle of someone terror-stricken and helpless, hiding, trembling, versus the strong, smart woman who was padding silently through the house right now.
I was trying to tell myself the whole time that I could be brave. That it was only the storm, or maybe a branch had broken. Maybe the wind had knocked the bough of a tree through a window, and that’s all it was. It made sense. It was logical. I wanted to believe it.
Instead I peered around the corner… and my breath caught in my throat.
The front door was wide open. One of the crystal-paned sidelights had been smashed inward, and there was broken glass scattered across the floor. But that’s not all that was on the floor.
Hide… NOW!
There was also water… and watery footprints.
I backed up and started looking for a weapon. The knives were on the other side of the kitchen. I could make it if I ran, but I’d also make noise. Right now my ears were turned up, my head cocked sideways, listening for anything. Were those footsteps? From the parlor, or the living room, or…
Someone was moving, possibly toward me, in my direction. I wanted to scream. I wanted to rush into the kitchen and grab my phone. Maybe I could dial 911 in time. Maybe I could make it all the way through to the rear of the house. Out the back door, onto the veranda and—
“OH!”
I clamped my hand over my mouth, but it was already too late.
There was a man standing in the kitchen.
He was extraordinarily tall. Thin and lanky and menacing-looking, even though I couldn’t see his face. All I could see was his shadow, silhouetted against the scant amount of light filtering in through the kitchen’s rear windows.
Silently I prayed that he didn’t see me. But I was right there, in the middle of the doorway. No cover, no shadow, nothing to hide behind. All I could do was stay utterly still, hoping it would somehow make me invisible.
Then he took a step toward me…
And I screamed.
CRASH!
The kitchen’s rear window exploded outward as the man was flung backwards and straight through it. And then I saw him: a second man, rushing past me with blinding speed. Flying through the kitchen so fast I couldn’t even follow his movement. Flinging himself — his entire body — straight into the midsection of my would-be attacker.
It was both men who crashed through the window. Both men who were in the backyard right now, writhing in the grass, wrestling and escaping and struggling to gain power and position over the other.
Lightning flashed. I saw the glint of steel, and the razor edge of a knife…
I rushed forward until I was at the broken window, still partially in shock. Sheets of rain crashed over me, waking me up just in time to see one man take off running…
… and the other followed.
Up the hill they went, out into the open, bolting for the edge of the property. They were both incredibly fast. Moving with such absurd levels of speed and agility, I knew in an instant they’d both been trained to do this.
I heard cries. Grunts. Thunder and rain. Someone screamed — a man’s scream this time — and there was another flash of lightning.
For a full minute I saw nothing. Then, from out the darkness, I could see someone stomping back down the hill.
I retreated slowly, keeping my eyes on the man as he approached. He moved methodically. With purpose.
You should be running!
I watched as he reached the house. Vaulted through the open window…
You should be calling for help!
He stood in the kitchen now, soaking wet, his boots all covered in mud. He wore sleek black pants. A shirt so torn to shreds he pulled it off, bunched it up, and began mopping himself dry with it.
In his free hand, I noticed he held a knife. It was jagged. Wicked-looking. Deadly.
And it was dripping blood.
Still… I knew this man. I knew his eyes, his cheekbones, the curve of his strong nose. The line of his squared-off jaw…
I squinted hard, then gasped. I knew him from the pictures. The photos I’d been shown of Kyle and Dakota and Ryan and—
“Briggs…”
Forty-Three
SAMMARA
Another bolt of lighting
illuminated the kitchen. It also illuminated him.
In that instant I saw everything; the dark hair, the devilish face, the two bronze shoulders tapering down to strong, capable arms. Briggs wasn’t just covered in rain, he was covered in blood too. Even in the shadows it looked slick and wet, like someone had splashed him with dark, liquid chocolate.
I looked at him like I was seeing a ghost. Eventually his eyes softened with recognition, and he dropped the knife.
“Sammara.”
His voice was as dominating as his presence. For a second I just stood there, trembling uncontrollably. Then I rushed over and flung myself against him, desperate for human contact.
My arms slid around him. Eventually, his arms went around me.
“Relax. You’re safe.”
I was still crying. Sobbing, even. It was like all the emotions I’d been keeping in check came rushing out at once. I let it all go, crushing myself against his chest. Then I felt something slick and wet soaking into me…
“You’re bleeding!”
Briggs didn’t even react. He just stood there, clutching me to his hard body. “No I’m not.”
I backed away. Everything was red. It was on my arms, in my hair — all over. I looked to him and he shook his head.
“Not my blood.”
I sighed, thankful he was okay. But I was still half-frightened, half-grossed out. The house was still dark and—
“The police!”
I reached for my phone on the other side of the counter, but Briggs stepped in front of me. It happened so quickly it was like he hadn’t moved at all.
“No police,” he said, closing his hand over mine.
His touch jolted me, almost like he was charged with energy. It could’ve been the adrenaline, but I swore I could feel this invisible force. This strange power, pulsating between us.
“But what if he comes ba—”
“He won’t,” Briggs said definitively. “Trust me.”
A dark thought occurred to me suddenly. I hesitated.
“D—Did you kill him?”
