Lowering her eyes, Jessie Lee examined her clothing and found herself drenched in gore. If she didn’t move she would look like just another corpse. He probably wouldn’t even notice her. She held her breath, waiting for Taylor to leave.
“… help me …”
The voice, coming from directly beneath her, made Jessie Lee gasp. She tilted her head and saw she was lying on top of Melody Montague, her elderly second-grade teacher. Less than an hour ago they’d been talking about the wedding.
Jessie Lee stared as the slash in Mrs. Montague’s neck oozed blood. But the wound hadn’t affected her voice, because again the woman said, “Help.”
And she said it louder this time.
Jessie Lee glanced back at the entrance to the shower, then to Mrs. Montague.
“Shh.” She touched her finger to Mrs. Montague’s lips. The old woman didn’t seem to notice.
“Please someone help me.”
Footsteps. Closer. Taylor, or whoever was in the shower room.
“… help …”
“I’ll help,” Jessie Lee whispered, “but you have to be quiet.”
Mrs. Montague’s eyes stared out into space, wide and unfocused. Her chin trembled. She began to shake her head.
Jessie Lee didn’t know what to do. Mrs. Montague was going to draw Taylor’s attention, and then he’d find them and kill them both. She willed her old teacher to stay still, to be quiet.
“… help me …”
The footsteps stopped on the other side of the pile. Through the tangle of bodies, Jessie Lee could see someone standing there.
“… please …”
Squeezing her eyes closed, Jessie Lee placed a hand over Mrs. Montague’s mouth. Mrs. Montague fought against her touch, so Jessie Lee pressed harder.
Mrs. Montague moaned. Jessie Lee adjusted her hand to also cover Mrs. Montague’s nose.
In the shower, noise echoed. Jessie Lee held her own breath, held it along with Mrs. Montague, willing the footsteps to go away and leave them alone.
The moment stretched until it was spider-web thin.
Mrs. Montague stopped struggling.
Jessie Lee shook with effort not to breathe. Bright motes appeared before her eyes even though they were closed.
The footsteps receded, out the shower entrance, back into the boys’ locker room.
Jessie Lee sucked in a breath, then removed her hand from Mrs. Montague.
Her teacher’s lifeless eyes stared, accusing.
Jessie Lee told herself she didn’t have a choice. They both would have died if they’d been found. Plus, Mrs. Montague was practically dead anyway.
Right?
A sob erupted from Jessie Lee, a long, hard sob that gained in volume until it became a scream.
She continued to scream until the footsteps came rushing back. And it turned out they didn’t belong to Taylor, after all.
“Hello, missy.”
“Oh, please … please help me …”
Jessie Lee reached for the figure over the wall of the dead.
The figure reached back—with a stun gun.
Josh pushed the Roadmaster to 50 mph, which was as fast as he dared on County Road JJ, the only road in and out of Safe Haven. Like many northern Wisconsin roads it boasted knots of turns and hills, all penned in by the woods. Deer leapt out of the tree line on a regular basis, and hitting one bigger than a hundred pounds could prove fatal to more than just the animal.
Josh snatched a look sideways. Duncan and Fran sat in the front seat with him. Fran now wore jeans and a sweater, both too large for her, and her thick blond hair had been tied back with a bright red scrunchie. Duncan’s attire fit better—jeans and a T-shirt from a boy his age. The clothes were loaners from a neighbor down the street. They hadn’t been home, but Fran watched their house when they went on vacation and knew they kept a spare key under the doormat. She was sure they’d understand.
Prior to dressing, Josh had bandaged Duncan’s leg wound. A pellet had stung him, leaving a bleeding welt. Josh didn’t think there were any lodged inside, but an x-ray would show for sure.
Fran’s injuries were harder to dress, especially without anesthetic. That psychopath Taylor had bitten off one of her toes and chewed much of the skin off another. Josh cleaned the wounds, taped gauze around them, and recommended Fran leave her foot shoeless. Fran met him halfway; she wore borrowed open-toe sandals.
Josh tried his cell again. Still no signal. He should be getting one soon, as he got closer to Shell Lake. They’d attempted to use the neighbor’s phone to call 911, but repeated attempts resulted only in a busy signal. It didn’t matter. Josh estimated they were ten minutes away from the hospital.
Though the evening had dished up countless horrors for all of them, the mood in the car was upbeat. As if they were heading for a carnival, or on vacation, rather than to a hospital and the authorities. Josh guessed their spirits were high because each of them felt ridiculously lucky to be alive.
“There’s Mystery Lake,” Duncan said, pointing as they passed. “Dad and I used to go there to catch bass. Do you know why it’s called Mystery Lake?”
Josh shook his head. “Tell me.”
“Because when they first named it, they couldn’t tell how deep it was. This was before depth finders. It’s deeper than Big Lake McDonald, even though it’s only thirty acres big.”
“How deep is it?”
“Over eighty feet. I bet there are some really big walleye and bass in there. Do you fish?”
“Only every single day I can.”
“Baitcast or spincast?”
Josh smiled. The kid knew his stuff. “Spincast, mostly. I use baitcast for muskie.”
“How big was your biggest muskie?”
“Thirty-two pounds, twelve ounces.”
“Wow! You use a spinner? Bucktail?”
“Muskie Jitterbug, frog color. The old wooden one. I think muskies like wood instead of plastic because it isn’t as hard to chomp down on. That gives you an extra fraction of a second to set the hook before they spit it out.”
Duncan leaned closer to Josh, pulling out of his mother’s protective hug.
“Will you take me muskie fishing?”
“Sure. I’ll take you and your mom.”
Duncan made a face. “Mom doesn’t like to fish.”
“Mom
“It freaks her out,” Duncan explained. “Whenever she gets a bite she screams and hands me or Dad the pole. But we haven’t gone fishing since Dad died. When will you take us?”
“We can talk about that later.” Fran suddenly became cool. “Josh is a busy man. Very busy.”
Josh winced. Fran was giving him a dig because he never called her for another date. They’d gone out only a few times, but Josh had fled from the casual relationship before it developed into something deeper.
