The chair tilted back on two legs, and she locked her finger on the drawer handle, trying to right herself. But the chair went over, the drawer popping out, its contents raining onto the carpet. Linda landed flat on her back.
She listened again to see if Mars had heard the crash. The shower must have covered the noise. She glanced around to see what she?d done. Combs and curlers and sponges scattered about. An eyelash curler. Something glinted metallic nearby.
The nail file.
If she could just roll on her side. The back of the chair was rounded, so she?d caught a break. She began rocking back and forth, grunted, and flopped over on her side. Her hand was a half inch from the nail file.
In the bathroom, the water shut off.
She stretched her fingers, the tips brushing the file.
The bathroom door creaked open.
One more stretch, and her fingers covered the file. She dragged it into her palm and closed it into her fist. The point and the dull end stuck out either side of her fist just slightly. It wasn?t very noticeable. If she kept her fist closed, Mars might not even see it.
It was so quiet for so long that Linda allowed herself the fantasy that he?d gone.
Then the bedroom door opened. He walked in, drying his ass crack with one of her good towels. He saw her on the floor, scowled, and tossed the towel onto the vanity.
?What?s this? Trying to squirm away??
She didn?t say anything, only watched him, mentally bracing herself against the inevitable.
Mars knelt next to her. He grabbed the roll of duct tape, ripped off a six-inch strip, and slapped it over her mouth. ?Keep you quiet while I catch a nap.?
He stood, moved out of Linda?s line of sight. But she heard the bed springs, the rustle of pillows and blankets. Long seconds passed, five minutes, ten. His shallow breathing segued into light snoring. Was he really going to leave her on the floor while he slept?
She knew the reprieve was only temporary. Sooner or later he would wake, and the horror would begin anew. She jerked her wrists against the tape even though she knew it was useless. She held the fingernail file but could not figure out how to get an angle to cut the tape.
Her fate seemed written in stone, that she could only wait to suffer and die while a vile killer dozed on her Martha Stewart sheets.
34
On the way back to the house, Andrew told Lizzy about Linda.
?I?m not sure what we should say about you,? Andrew said to Lizzy. ?Linda?s a little high-strung right now. If she knows you?re the sister of the woman who tried to blast us all to hell with a helicopter, she might not take it too well.?
?We?ll lie,? Lizzy said. ?Say I?m your girlfriend from New York.?
It was a good, simple, reasonable lie, but Andrew hadn?t thought of it. The idea of his having a girlfriend was too alien. Also, it was a lie he liked. The thought of her being his girlfriend made him grin.
?And just what is so funny??
?Nothing,? he said. ?I?ll tell you later.?
They entered the house, and Andrew put a finger to his lips. He whispered, ?Let?s keep it down. I don?t know if she?s up from her nap yet.?
?You?re just stalling,? Lizzy said.
