“Tell them to look for us on the beach.” Gen set the phone back on the pillar and pushed to her feet. She shuffled to the dinner table, palmed the sharpest thing on the table—a fork—turned, and hobbled as quickly as she could toward the beach.
A slatted teak path led the way to total darkness. The uneven surface bit into her heel and slowed her already pitiful progress. Inky night, not yet tinted by the moon or even a hint of stars, crowded in.
Something caught Gen’s toe, throwing off her precarious balance and pitching her forward. Her arms windmilled, and her legs sputtered beneath her. Long grass tickled her fingertips as she fell. Sand caught her, splayed wide. Air evacuated her lungs. She rolled into the fetal position and gagged.
Seconds passed. Oxygen refused to return.
From a distance, Millie’s high-pitched shriek carried on the ocean’s breeze. It attacked Gen’s psyche as though it were an entity in itself. In it, she heard her sister’s sobs. She heard Pamela’s wail and her children cry. She heard her own howl for justice.
They begged her to push, begged her to fight.
Gen shoved to her hands and knees. Her fingers sifted through the sand in a frantic search for the fork. Hiccups of air anointed her lungs. Cold leathery material grazed her hand. It had a round edge and a pointed bottom. Millie’s shoe. Gen must have tripped over the other one.
There wasn’t time for forks or shoes. There wasn’t time for regrets or hopes.
She shoved from the soft ground and ran.
Sand swallowed her feet to the ankles. The tiny granules filled the cuts on her foot. It stung. Her lungs did too. She breathed deep, churned her legs harder, and strained her gaze in search of anything discernible.
The whittled edge of Millie’s protests provided her only beacon … until she rounded the dunes. A hint of moonlight in the distance reflected off the water, giving the surface an ebony glow. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to cast a horrifying silhouette.
Millie lay on her back on the fluffy sand. Perry stood over her, shaking his fists in the air. He faced away from Gen, letting the ocean swallow his tirade. The woman’s cowering was the only sign of life.
He squatted next to Millie.
Gen waited for his hands to lock around the woman’s neck. They did not. He scooped her into his arms and walked slowly, methodically toward the waves. Millie’s sobs met her ears, but the woman no longer fought.
Perry was scary enough to make someone welcome death. Fear threatened to turn the unstable ground to quicksand. A moment later, rage flushed Gen’s cheeks. It warmed her chest and drove out all uncertainty. She ran for Evangeline. She ran for herself.
When she came within spitting distance, she leaped. She locked both legs around Perry’s middle, one arm around his neck, grabbed his nose with the other, and heaved. His arms flung wide. He teetered. Gen tightened her grip to keep from falling off. Millie hit the ground with a thud.
“Run, Millie! Run!” Gen screamed the order directly into Perry’s ear.
The woman scrambled to her feet, took two steps, and swiftly fell on her face.
“Run!”
Again, Millie stood, ran a few steps, and scuttled sideways.
The drugs.
“Vomit, Millie! You have to throw up now, then ru—”
A sharp pain cut off Gen’s order. Perry had grabbed a handful of Gen’s hair and pulled. Her eyes watered and instinct told her to move toward the agony to lessen it, but this was life and death. She grit her teeth against the hurt, shifted her fingers up from his nose to his eyes, and dug in.
Millie continued to flee in short rises and erratic falls. Only she wasn’t retreating toward the house. With every jarring motion, she moved closer and closer toward a heap of jagged rocks some might call a jetty. To Gen, it was death personified, especially if you couldn’t put one foot in front of the other.
Gravity shifted. Gen wasn’t falling, but Perry was, hard and fast. The ground met her back, and Perry met her front in an abrupt collision.
Her breath stayed for once, but her grip gave way.
Perry’s head lifted, and then quickly shifted direction. Too quickly. With her hands by her sides, she couldn’t do anything to stop the sharp, jarring impact of his skull to hers.
What little vision she had in the dim night blurred.
“Fucking bitch.” Perry shoved off her and stood. “I should have killed you in your apartment like I planned, you and that big bastard you were screwing.”
The words hovered above her, flitting like butterflies, their wings just out of reach. Footsteps crunched away. His ghostly shape drifted off in the distance.
One by one, the words locked into place. Little by little, his form became solid.
He might have killed Owen while in her house. He was going to kill Millie on the beach.
Gen’s legs refused to respond to her demands. She watched, unable to move as Perry stalked a fumbling, frantic Millie toward the rock outcropping.
Run toward the house, Millie! Toward the house!
She tried to lead the woman to safety, but her words were garbled and malformed. Her head throbbed so forcefully she’d swear she felt an ever-widening cracking of her skull just above her right eye. Next, she tried pushing up onto her side, but like the other woman, her arms flailed about, bathing her in the sand.
For every step Millie took, Perry took four. He strode past Millie as though she wasn’t even there. As if he no longer cared to end her life.
For a second, Gen swore she heard sirens.
She looked over her shoulder toward the house but saw no lights.
When she looked back, Perry was there, standing over Millie’s cringing frame. His arm lifted high into the air. His hand looked larger. He clutched a rock in his grip.
“No! No!” Her voice cracked in time with Millie’s skull.
Time and again, he hit her until she slumped on the sand. He threw the rock into the water and grabbed her ankle. In the slow, methodical steps she’d seen before, he dragged her lifeless body across the uneven jetty.
Perry would kill her next. He’d tried once. This time, there would be nothing peaceful about it.
Would he beat her to death?
Hell, he was halfway there. Her head hurt so much.
There had to be something she could do to save herself. She looked left and right. There was only sand and water as far as she could see. And rocks. She couldn’t even make herself look in that direction.
Just sand and water.
Sand.
In her effort to move she’d nearly coated herself in the stuff.
Gen scooped armfuls of sand onto her belly and dug her legs into the powder. She pulled handfuls onto her hair, and then covered her chest. She closed her eyes and mouth, turned the injured side of her head into the sand, and covered the rest of her face. Sand crowded her eyelids. It caked around her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was dark, and it was her last chance at living.
She didn’t see Perry throw Millie’s body into the ocean, though she knew he had. She didn’t see him turn his back on the woman’s body without a second thought, but she knew he had. She didn’t see Perry return to the beach for her, yet she knew he would. She just had to wait him out.
Hurry, Owen.
Too soon, his feet crunched the sand within the too close distance of her muffled hearing. Closer and closer he came. The grinding of the sand overpowered the ocean. It became absolutely deafening. Like an avalanche pacing itself but promising to crush her. It overwhelmed all other sounds, all other thought.
“Genevieve!” Perry bellowed her name so loudly, she nearly jumped. In fact, she wasn’t sure that she hadn’t. Every muscle inside her was wound so tight. She was as brittle as a dried sand dollar. Had she jumped, she might have shattered.
“I didn’t see you run to the house, so you can’t be far. Show yourself, and I’ll end it quickly.”
She held perfectly still, only sucking in a quarter of the oxygen her body demanded. B
ecause of the way she’d positioned her head, the sand wasn’t shooting up her nose.
“Genevieve, if it makes you feel better, I’ll take no pleasure in killing you. You know, I tried to save you. I really did. You’re just so goddamned stubborn and kept poking your nose where it didn’t belong.”
Once more, she thought she heard a siren. In the sand, every sound was muffled except for Perry’s ever closer steps.
“Why do you think I only used pills on you? If I’d wanted to kill you, I’d have bashed your skull in like I did to Millie or carved your heart out like I did—”
The whoop of sirens was unmistakable now.
They’d cut off Perry’s tirade and seemed to funnel from every direction.
A brightness filled her lids. Light, like she hadn't seen in what seemed like days, filled her soul. They flashed and whirred.
Perry’s heavy footsteps retreated one, two, three steps and more.
That’s right, Perry, run.
Unable to stand the utter fear a moment more and unwilling to let a dead-eyed, cold-blooded murderer get away, Gen shook the sand from her face and turned her gaze to the house. A sea of stunning blue lights flashed at its side. Her voice would not reach them, so she had to.
Gen pushed up onto her elbows. The world shimmied around her but settled. Her entire body hurt, but it didn’t matter. Help had arrived. She dug one forearm into the soft ground and pulled her legs to her chest.
A large hand clamped down on her shoulder. In her dreams, it was Owen, come to rescue her. In reality, every finger bit into her skin so hard that she knew it was Perry, and he’d come to finish the job. Another hand banded around her wrist, wrenching her from the small divot she’d created.
“No!” Gen screamed. She jerked left to right, up and down, trying to break his hold. He dragged her wild form closer and closer to the water. Vibrant lights flashed just yards away. She shrieked for help, just like Millie had. Look what good it had done her. None at all.
This called for decisive action.
She grabbed a handful of sand, called out his name, closed her eyes, and chunked the heap in the direction of his face.
His steps faltered. He sputtered and cursed. Then a sharp wing tip wedged its point between her ribs. Pain reverberated through her side. A fevered expletive exploded from her lips, followed by another.
He dragged her another few yards.
Regardless, fear fled, and her fight returned with a demonic vengeance. If she was going down, it’d be in a blaze of glory with his blood on her hands. There would be no question who’d murdered her.
Gen jerked left and sank four fingernails into the wrist pinching her shoulder. She dug in and twisted as hard as her short nails would go.
Perry released her.
Another kick assailed her ribs. This one took her breath but not her rage. He hauled her up by the neck and lifted her high. She stared into his eyes. They were as black as the night sea.
“You—”
She spat in his face. Fuck him and his words.
He turned and heaved her through the air.
Gen landed chest first on the sand. Her hands splayed wide. Frigid ocean spray misted her knuckles. A wave soaked her pant leg. She pushed up to her hands and knees. Something hard shoved her over, sending her back to meet the next wave. It soaked her spine and splashed at the back of her neck.
Perry was there. He loomed over her for a beat. The widest smile curved his lips. His hands grabbed a fist worth of her wet slacks, locked tight, and slung her once more.
Before she could orient herself, he grabbed her slacks again. She cocked her free leg back as far as she could and hammered it into his arm.
“Have it your way,” he spat.
His knee dropped atop her chest, leveraging a hammer of his own. Pressure built in her abdomen. She punched at his leg. It was the only thing she could reach.
Shocking cold water rushed over her face and chest.
It nearly triggered her instinct to gasp, but the body’s response to water took over, locking off her airway. The ocean rose up her breasts to her belly, and then slowly, oh, so slowly receded.
Salt water burned her nasal passages and ran up her throat. She sputtered and heaved. She gagged and gasped. She bucked and clawed.
Perry’s knee pressed harder against her chest.
Another wave crashed, stealing her sight. It robbed her of her chance at breath. Her heels dug into the sand.
The moment the wave left her face, she begged for oxygen. His leg more than the ocean denied her that basic human right. He smiled down at her. It was not the last thing she wanted to see in this life.
Gen planted both feet in the grooves she made and thrust her hips toward the dark sky.
Perry pitched forward and careened over top of her. He splashed into the oncoming wave. She crawled onto her side and gulped in air. Her brain screamed retreat, but her body could only shiver and gasp.
His arms reached from the depths, latched around her middle like a sea monster’s tentacles, and pulled her into the water.
She’d used it all, everything she possessed, to conquer Perry. There was nothing left. As he walked her farther into her grave, she knew true defeat. She’d pushed away her friends and Owen. She’d pursued the devil for justice, and she was about to lose. But … in the fight, she’d learned how to forgive herself. In the fight, she’d learned how to overcome the demons of her past. If only she would have gotten a chance to use them in her future.
What a future it would have been.
Thirty-Two
Icy cold enveloped her completely. Perry’s harsh grip held her head under the rocking tide. Everything inside her said fight, struggle, live. There was so little oxygen in her system. The more she fought, the quicker she’d die.
Gen remained limp. If he thought she was dead before she actually was, there was a tiny chance she’d survive for a few minutes in the frigid water.
She could do this. She could survive, just to spite Perry. And see him brought to justice.
Pressure collected in her throat. It multiplied in her chest, a wholly different experience from the crush of his weight. Her lungs burned. She refused to give in to the struggle that clawed at her brain, demanding action. Action! Action!
Her skin itched. Her ears rang.
Then, like a wave, the panic washed away.
Peace filled her lungs, imbued her veins, and soothed her brain. Worry slipped away.
Like a flash of lightning to a tinder-dried forest, tranquility turned to melee.
The hands that had held her down yanked her from the water and slammed her sore shoulder into the shore. A wave crashed into her bottom, shoving her higher onto the hard sand and into the fiery air. Each gulp scalded her throat and lungs. A sickening sound accompanied each frantic breath.
The thwack of flesh meeting flesh repeated time and again.
Gen’s brain connected the sound to Millie’s death. She covered her head to brace from the impact of a rock only to realize nothing came.
Her gaze searched the dark horizon for Perry. What she saw didn’t compute.
He lay on his back with his arms splayed at his sides. His legs shot out wide. An unnatural slack in his neck allowed his head to snap from one side to the other with every impact.
Owen straddled Perry, pounding his fist into her captor’s face.
Again and again, Owen’s body coiled and struck.
Fury and anguish she’d felt too intimately radiated from the man she loved. Perry’s hollow eyes registered nothing. If Owen continued, they never would.
Gen dug her elbows into the sand and shoved herself from the edge of the water.
“Don’t kill him!”
As much as she wanted him dead, she wanted him stripped of everything he held dear and imprisoned for the rest of his years.
As though she’d pulled out his battery, Owen stopped and sagged over Perry’s unresponsive body.
She collapsed onto the sand, wanting in th
e fold of Owen’s arms more than she even wanted justice for Pamela and her sweet children, Perry’s or not.
A swarm of officers and first responders crowded her. Their flashlights blinded what little vision she had through the sand and salt. They poked and prodded and jostled her about before scooping her off the beach and shoving her into a helicopter.
Thirty-Three
Gen looked from one great friend to the next. Larkin stood on the right side of her hospital bed with her cold little hand on Gen’s forearm, dodging all the cords and tubes. Marlis hovered over Larkin’s shoulder quite literally clutching her pearls. Libby glowered at the foot of her bed with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Did the three of you take turns blowing my nurse to get back here?”
“No.” Mar released her pearls and slapped both hands to her hips. “He has one of those rubber wedding bands. You told me they were off-limits.”
Libby’s bright, wide smile bloomed under a robust laugh. Her tightly wound arms gave.
Larkin gently squeezed Gen’s forearm and offered a more reserved smile.
“I never expected you to listen.” Gen’s voice sounded as though it’d been run through the shredder.
All three girls reached for the cup of water on the side table. Larkin reached it first and administered the life-giving liquid.
She’d only been awake for a couple of hours. Awake and alone. The fuzz had hardly lifted from her brain. Certain things were still muzzy, but the majority, the horrible things, the things she wished had vanished with the apparent brain swelling, remained in high definition.
“Earlier, I heard the nurses talking about an Irish lady threatening to castrate him if he didn’t let her back here, and I knew it was Janney.”
“She’s a spitfire. It’s a wonder you two can work together.” Marlis shook her head.
“I don’t understand either, but it works.” Gen grinned. The cut in her mouth burned. She winced.
“No blow jobs or castrations necessary,” Larkin reassured her.
“We didn’t even have to threaten to buy the place and fire him.” Marlis grinned. “I would have, but we had the bad broad with a badge.” She hiked a thumb at Libby.
Why (Stalker Series Book 2) Page 27
