by Erin Hayes
It was over. Just like that, she’d cut off the last remaining supply line to the island she was stranded on. She had only her own survival instincts left now to get her through. Her career was in shambles, her relationship with Brian had gone up in smoke, and her mother’s letter had as good as severed whatever family she had known.
She got up stiffly and shuffled into her bathroom, her head pounding. She turned on the faucet and ran the water until it warmed. Her face felt numb as the water splashed off her cheekbones. She barely recognized the empty eyes in the mirror looking back at her. The air in the room was deathly cold, brooding in silent vigil—until the whispering began.
Chapter Thirty
Martina swiped at a stray tear. The kindness Rick had shown her during the past forty-eight hours had completely overwhelmed her. He’d picked her up after her overnight stay at Pine Haven and helped her with the immediate, practical decisions she had to make. His wife, Linda, had even brought her some clean clothes and a bag of toiletries. It felt odd, but good, to be the recipient of so much love and support. No longer a piece of forgotten junk. The voices in her head had lied about so many things.
Linda had insisted she stay with them until she had a plan in place but she’d have to move quickly. Taggert had spent the last two nights alone, and he’d been downtown both times she’d called. “To see friends,” he had put it. Hal hadn’t been home at all, a sure sign his current affair was in full swing. Most times it fell apart after a few weeks. But for now, he was distracted, and that was a good thing. Martina bit her lip. He had no idea she had left him.
Rick poured some coffee from the pot in the corner of his office. He opened a package of cookies and placed a steaming mug in front of her. “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip as she eyed him over the rim.
“Martina, I’d like you to consider my offer to help you and Taggert find temporary shelter. I can set you up with a host family, or find you a room in Harbor House—the women’s shelter—if you’d rather be independent. Either way, you and Taggert need to be in a safe zone, out of Hal’s reach.”
She sighed and rubbed her aching eyes, contemplating the chaos she still had to wade through. First they had to get through the court date and see what kind of a diversionary program the judge was going to send Taggert to. She had no idea how many months it would take, but Taggert would be on probation after that. And then there was the dependency-treatment therapy. There was no way she was taking Taggert back to Dr. Brenner. She’d have to ask the lawyer for a new therapist.
“I’d like to go to Harbor House. Taggert and I could use our own space to talk things over. But I have to go home and get some things together first. And we could pick Taggert up if he’s there. Save him catching the bus over here later.”
Rick’s face tightened.
“Only if Hal’s truck’s not there,” she added quickly.
Rick reached for his coffee. “I don’t like the idea of you going in there by yourself, whether his truck’s there or not.”
She shifted a little in her seat. “Well, you can’t go in with me. If Hal sees me with another man, he’ll tear me limb from limb.”
“It’s not too late to press charges. That way you can get a police escort to pick up your things.”
“No!” She shook her head vehemently. “It will only provoke him to do something crazy. He might take a gun to Eddie’s place and shoot someone else if he can’t find me.”
Rick furrowed his brow. “It’s eleven-fifteen now. We can at least drive by and assess the situation.” He navigated out from behind his desk stacked high with books and folders, switched off his reading lamp, and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go before my afternoon appointments.”
Martina followed him outside and waited while he locked the side door to his office.
They turned at the same time at the crunch of tires pulling into the gravel lot. The car engine switched off and a tall, visibly shaken woman clambered out, her long blond hair clustered over her shoulders in disarray. Martina sucked in a silent breath. Kyra Williams!
Kyra stiffened when she saw her, then switched her gaze to Rick. “I’m sorry. I should have called first.”
Rick pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his face creased with concern.
“Are you all right, Kyra? You look awfully pale.”
She gave an unconvincing nod.
He turned to Martina. “Martina, this is Kyra Williams, Kyra, this—”
“We’ve met,” they said in unison.
After an awkward silence, Rick cleared his throat. “Great, well, I need to give Martina a ride to her house, but I’d be happy to talk to you when I get back, Kyra, if you want to wait in my office.”
Martina stole another glance at Kyra, noting the ever-so-slight quiver of her lips, the fear in her eyes. “Why don’t you come with us? I just need to grab a few things at my house.”
“Are you sure?” Kyra frowned. “I feel bad about showing up unannounced but I’d rather not wait here alone.”
“You’d be doing me a favor,” Martina said. “I’m ... leaving my abusive husband—it’s better that I don’t drive out there alone with another man.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Kyra. “In that case, I’ll come with you.”
Rick pulled out his keys. “I’m parked over here.”
“Martina and I can take my car,” Kyra offered. “That might be safer, in case her husband sees us pull up.”
Rick threw Kyra a grateful grin. “Good idea. I’ll follow you.”
“Thanks,” said Martina, slipping into the passenger seat in Kyra’s rental car and pulling on her seat belt. She smiled self-consciously. “Sorry to drag you into this mess. You seem to have your life all together.”
Kyra gave a wry grin. “I did, until my life came crashing down on me a couple of weeks ago.” She stared straight ahead. “It hasn’t stopped falling apart since the accident.”
Martina raised her brows and pulled her hair back out of her face. “Does it involve a man?”
Kyra let out a snort. “It’s a long story, but my boyfriend ditching me is definitely a chapter.”
As they drove, Martina gave her the rundown on Hal, and Kyra opened up in return. Despite their different backgrounds, they quickly discovered that their lives had followed a similar trajectory of pain, from parental betrayal to the dark oppression that pursued them, and even the terrifying voices.
After a twenty minute drive, they turned onto Martina’s street and parked around the corner from her house.
Kyra pulled the keys out of the ignition. “I can try talking to your husband if he’s home, maybe defuse the situation a little.”
Martina pulled at her hair nervously, picturing Hal’s look of contempt and the cigarette dangling from his face, while Kyra Williams, with her polished inflections, tried to negotiate with him. Fat chance.
“Best just stick with me. If Hal shows up, I know how to work him. You can always run back to the car if we need help.”
Kyra shrugged and fell in step with Martina as she walked over to Rick’s car.
“You should probably wait here,” Martina said to him. “I don’t want the neighbors saying anything to Hal.”
He nodded. “I have my phone on just in case. Leave my number up so all you have to do is hit CALL if you need me.”
“Hal’s truck’s not here, that’s a good start,” said Martina as she and Kyra rounded the corner. She scurried up the driveway, unlocked the front door, and called down the hallway.
“Taggert, you home?”
A dark figure stepped silently into the hall. He looked Kyra up and down before jerking his head in her direction.
“Who’s that?”
“This is my friend, Kyra.” Martina wrapped an inflexible Taggert tightly in her arms. “Listen, we don’t have much time. We’ve gotta get out of here, now.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later, but first we have to get our stuff before Hal shows u
p.”
Taggert gave a nonchalant shrug but the contours on his face softened. “I’m ready, been ready.” He disappeared into his room and came right back out with a backpack and a small duffel bag.
Martina raised her eyebrows.
“I was ‘bout ready to take off anyway.”
Martina bit her lip, relieved that she’d come back for him in time. She slipped into her bedroom, threw her belongings into the dusty case she retrieved from the back of the closet, and went back out into the hallway, the worn-out wheels wobbling precariously as she pulled the case behind her.
They were closing the trunk on the car when Martina remembered the cash. She had to pay Eddie back his money this week. If she got it to him before month’s end, there was still a chance he wouldn’t press charges.
Martina stuck her head inside the car. “Stay here, Taggert. I forgot something important.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kyra said.
Back inside the house, Martina climbed up on a kitchen chair and pulled several chicken noodle soup cans and a box of pancake mix from an upper cabinet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kyra surveying the tiny kitchen. It wasn’t much to look at. Rotting baseboards and green paint peeling from cabinet doors that drooped from loose hinges. She’d given up a long time ago. Hal ripped stuff out faster than she could nail it back together. But none of that mattered anymore.
“Got it!” she said, grabbing the wad of notes from an empty pasta box. She climbed down and shoved the chair back under the cracked table that served as more of a no-man’s land for junk than a place to share a meal. As they made their way down the hallway, a tingle of anticipation ran down her spine. This was the last time she would ever walk out of here. It was finally over.
“I’ll get the door,” Kyra said.
“Thanks.” Martina instinctively kicked back a folded corner on the worn rug in the hallway as she walked over it. She looked up, just as Kyra came flying backward, slamming into her. Yelping in pain, Martina reached for the wall to brace herself.
A familiar shape filled the doorframe, his reddened eyes huddled together in hate, cheaply tattooed forearms folded and barring their way.
Chapter Thirty-One
“There’s laws ’gainst trespassing.” The thick, surly voice broke off, overcome by a coughing fit.
Crouching slightly, Kyra braced to protect herself against any sudden moves as she took stock of the leathered face mapped with purple veins and reddened ridges. A soured glint lit his bloodshot eyes, accentuated by heavy bags of tissue converging on a bulbous nose. Kyra grimaced. This had to be Hal. How Martina had ever procreated with the man was beyond her comprehension. She tensed when he rocked forward on his feet, and belched. The rank stench of beer filled the spitting distance between them.
Kyra slowly straightened her five-foot-eleven frame to its full height and stared down at him. Her knee throbbed where she’d hit it on her way down, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had hurt her. “I’m a friend of Martina’s. That makes me a guest in this house.”
“Ain’t that sweet.”
Hal’s eyes lingered on Martina’s fistful of money before he turned his gaze back to Kyra. She pressed her fingernails into her sweaty palms. “You made a huge mistake assaulting me, Mr. Doyle. That could get you time.”
He edged closer and leered. “And I could get you what you’re looking for.”
Everything in her wanted to slap him, but she sensed he was goading her to swing. Narrowing her eyes at him, she breathed slowly, willing her pounding heart into submission. She had to stay calm. Don’t show fear.
“Step aside, Mr. Doyle.”
He flashed a gummy smile, exposing an assortment of uneven, yellowed teeth. “Gonna make me?” he asked, leaning into her space.
Kyra reeled at a whiff of his foul breath.
“Leave her outta this, Hal!” yelled Martina, lunging at him.
Kyra grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her back from Hal’s flying fist. He stumbled, caught off guard by her quick reaction. She took a step backward, shielding Martina, her instincts telling her Hal was less likely to swing at a stranger. As she searched frantically for an escape route, footsteps approached the front door.
“Everything all right?” called Rick from the steps. Hal swung around to face him.
“We were just leaving.” Kyra elbowed her way past Hal, pulling Martina with her. Before she’d made it to the steps, a burly foot in a filthy, steel-toed boot stomped down in the space between her and Rick. She froze and tightened her grip on Martina.
“Not with my money you ain’t.” Hal breathed onto the nape of her neck. “Even if you did bring yer bruiser boyfriend along.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Twenty bucks says I can take him.”
Kyra glanced at Rick and gave a subtle shake of her head. “You’re already on thin ice with assault, Mr. Doyle. So unless you’re going for the felony hat trick with hostage-taking and theft, I’d advise you to get out of my way before I call the police.”
A malevolent shadow passed over his face. Kyra’s heart beat faster. There was no doubt in her mind he was capable of anything.
“I ain’t done with you yet,” he mumbled in her ear.
Kyra shoved past him a second time, Martina in tow.
“Hold up!” Hal barked, making a grab for Martina. “She ain’t going nowhere.”
“That’s enough, Mr. Doyle,” said Rick, closing in before Hal could take another step. “Let them leave or I’m calling 9-1-1.” Hal retreated a few inches, spat on the ground, and leaned against the doorframe. “Go on, git off my property.”
Kyra linked her arm through Martina’s, and hurried down the driveway after Rick before Hal changed his mind. When they reached the street, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. Hal stood rooted to the spot, his beer gut protruding past the doorframe. He locked eyes with her, tightened his lips in a sinister half-smile, and raised a knuckled fist. Kyra spun around, her heart shuddering in her chest, Hal’s charged breath still tingling in her ear.
Rick waited at the curb until she pulled out. She turned onto the main street and glanced over at Martina beside her in the passenger seat. She looked exhausted, her bangs criss-crossed in sweaty strands across her forehead. Kyra peeked in the rearview mirror. Taggert stared out the window, his defiant edge disarmed for now—the kid knew only too well what his father was capable of.
Kyra exhaled slowly. Standing up to Hal had drained the last of her emotional reserves. It was like being slapped around by a predator before it tore you apart. No wonder Martina had been suicidal.
They rode wrapped in their own thoughts until they pulled back into the church parking lot beside Rick. As they climbed out of their car, a petite, slightly overweight woman with a gray bob and a wide smile bounded down the steps to greet them.
“Everyone, this is my beautiful wife, Linda,” said Rick. Kyra gave a brusque nod and extended her hand, but was quickly clutched in a warmhearted hug. When they drew apart, Rick turned to Martina. “Linda will take you and Taggert home now, and come Monday we’ll get you checked into Harbor House.”
Martina brushed the back of her hand across her moist eyes. “You’ve no idea how much this means to me. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
Kyra watched as Martina and Taggert unloaded their bags and followed Linda over to a tired-looking, gray minivan with a large dent in the bumper.
Rick turned to Kyra and shook his head. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have agreed to let you come with us. But when you and Martina said you knew each other …” His voice trailed off. “You could press charges, I suppose.”
“No!” Kyra shook her head vehemently. “I’m not hurt and I don’t want to drag things out for Martina.” Or make things worse for me. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up in a domestic violence dispute. If her name was linked with a lowlife like Hal, Jim would be more convinced than ever that she was doing drugs. It was bad enough she was taking the me
dication Dr. Brenner had prescribed. The pills were making her brain increasingly foggy, her thoughts muddy.
“All right then,” said Rick, gesturing to his office. “Go ahead inside, Kyra. I just need to have a word with my assistant and I’ll be right with you.”
She nodded and maneuvered wearily up the steps. Her limbs sagged in her skin. As she walked down the hallway, her ears picked up a peculiar droning. Almost like chanting of some kind. Where was it coming from? She clamped her temples between her hands, disoriented. She had never felt such pulsing hatred. Demonic voices! She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on pinpointing the sound. It was coming from Rick’s office. An icy chill spread across Kyra’s shoulders. Heart pounding, she turned on her heel and fled.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kyra tore down the steps and back outside to the parking lot. They didn’t want her in Rick’s office. They were insistent. She had to get away from their manic shrieking before her brain exploded.
Inside her car, the eerie yowling finally evaporated. She peered hesitantly over her shoulder searching for the faintest hint of a shadow or flicker of movement. Nothing seemed out of place or infused with an otherworldly presence. She gulped a hasty breath. Every part of her ached like a reverberating tuning fork. Rick was right about demons being alive in the twenty-first century. They were hunting her.
She started up the car with trembling fingers and peeled out of the church parking lot. Rick had tried to help her, but things were going from bad to worse. It wasn’t just whatever was out there in the invisible realm she had to contend with. Now there was Hal too. She believed him when he said he was coming for her. Men like Hal didn’t make idle threats. He was violent in a primal way, and she’d experienced that firsthand. Kyra ran a shaking hand over her brow. She had to do something to protect herself. Maybe she should swing by the sheriff’s office on Monday and apply for a gun license.
