Making a low “Uuggghhh,” she slumped back on the pillow.
Out cold.
Wrestling her onto his shoulder, he went through the kitchen bar to the front door. Unlocking it with one hand, closing it behind him, he hurried out back.
SEVENTY-TWO
The cabins were behind him now.
Still running, he turned, snatching a look over his shoulder. Through the trees, he saw the cabins recede into the distance.
He stumbled on, through another deserted copse, stepping over branches, chugging through rough grass.
Soon, the grass gave way to pebbles.
Out of the trees now, the late-noon sun caught him off guard. Squinting into the light, he shook his head, trying to clear the noise, the clutter, the nonsense inside it.
He made his way to a secluded inlet.
Reached the rowboat.
Lowering Leigh into it, he pushed the boat forward.
It shushed quietly along the sand and slipped neatly into the sparkling water.
Leigh groaned.
Leaning over, he slapped her face. Her eyes opened, stared at him groggily for a moment, then closed again.
He stepped into the boat, settled down, eased the paddles from the oarlocks, and stroked out across the lake.
SEVENTY-THREE
“He’s got her, Sheena. I heard a crash, went to investigate, and she’d gone. It could only be Mace. Do you see anything out there?”
Sheena, mobile pressed to her ear, listened intently.
“I’m approaching the lake now, Mattie… Can’t see anything this end…” Her voice was hurried, breathy, as she jogged over uneven scrub and pebbles.
Drawing to a halt, she scanned the water. “There’s a guy in a rowboat. Dark hair, plaid shirt… Stroking like hell… He’s looking over his shoulder…”
She paused, then said quickly, “Mattie. It’s Mace. Travelin’ south. Heading for the pines out there.”
“You sure about that?”
“Sure as I’ll ever be. The guy’s in an awful hurry. Hey, didn’t Charlie have a hideout around here—like the place he died in? And yeah. There’s something in the boat, Mattie. Like a pile of clothing or…”
“Sheena, keep an eye on that boat. I’ll pull rank, requisition a launch. Rowboat. Inflatable. Whatever.”
Sheena kicked off her sneakers and waded into the lake till she was breast deep. Then, lifting her arms, she struck out after the rowboat.
SEVENTY-FOUR
Slowly, Leigh opened her eyes, trying to focus on the room. Everything blurred before her.
Her lids closed again.
Gingerly, she felt her jaw. It moved around freely—a little too freely for her liking. Pain shot through her face, stars exploded like fireworks in her head.
Her eyes opened. They darted to Mace.
“Recognize where y’are, darlin’? Recall this li’l ol’ place, do ya?”
Leigh went cold. She began to shake.
She was lying on a palliasse of some sort. It was lumpy, hard, with no give to it—like it was filled with straw or something.
She closed her eyes again. Shutting him out.
Her eyes snapped open.
THIS WAS IT!
THE HOUSE.
WHERE CHARLIE DIED…
The nightmare began again.
Screams echoed around and around in her head, like those other screams, all those years ago.
Edith Payne’s screams. When she’d discovered her son Charlie, lying broken and bleeding. His head caved in…
“Never did take the old place down,” Mace was saying. “Left it here to rot. Gotta tread careful now… Could fall down one a’ these biiiig holes…” He grinned at her, standing on the edge of one, jumping up and down, testing the old boards, judging how much they could take.
She shuddered, feeling them shake, vibrate; hearing debris crumble and fall into the void below…
Mace gave a hollow laugh.
“All comes floodin’ back now, darlin’? Day you killed my brother Charlie?”
His fist came at her again. Smashing her head back to the mattress. He stood there, grinning and chewing, hearing her groans, her small, soft cries.
Then he was down, grabbing the neck of her sweatshirt, twisting it around his hand, bringing her up close till her face touched his.
Her stomach lurched with fear and loathing.
His grip tightened.
SEVENTY-FIVE
“STOP! Police! I got ya covered, Mace!”
Mattie.
Right behind him.
Both hands gripping her gun.
Shoving it into his back.
His hands went up.
Carefully, still keeping him covered, she reached for her belt. Unhitched the cuffs. Snapping one open, she moved forward to slip it onto Mace’s wrist…
