“We’ll be OK if we can reach the sea,” Cassie whispered.
“Yes,” Jacqui replied.
Over the commotion, Cassie could hear the sea; the constant sighing of surf, even though she knew it was nowhere near their small apartment. The wind must be in the right direction because she could smell it, too.
She could hear something else now; the tramp of heavy footsteps that meant her father was coming upstairs, and she squeezed Jacqui’s hand more tightly, shrinking back into that dark, claustrophobic place between the bed and the wall.
“He’s going to hurt us this time,” she whispered. Helplessness paralyzed her as she thought about how big he was; how his angry presence would seem to fill the room as he burst inside, and how strong he could be when he was drunk.
“We need to get out,” Jacqui said.
“He’s coming. There’s no time.”
“There’s time if we’re quick. Follow me.”
She dragged Cassie out from the bed and over to the windowsill. The room was gloomy and the footsteps sounded louder. Her father must be right outside the door, and Cassie felt exposed. The room was freezing. The window was wide open and an icy breeze was blasting through it, lashing the curtain.
“Help me,” Cassie pleaded, because the drop from the window was immense. They were high up, so high she couldn’t see the ground below, only hear that faraway sound of the sea, and her father’s angry roar.
“I can’t,” Jacqui whispered, and suddenly she let go of Cassie’s hand. Cassie was all alone, and Jacqui was fading away, screaming with laughter as she disappeared.
“No!” Cassie yelled, but Jacqui was gone, leaving only a trace of ghostly laughter behind.
There was no time to get back under the bed. Her father was wrenching at the door. Jacqui had lured her out from her hiding place and now the only escape was out of the high window. Cassie stared down, terrified, knowing she would have to jump.
“It’s a dream, you’ll be OK,” she told herself. “Jump. Just jump and wake up.”
But something was stopping her and she couldn’t do it.
She was cold. So cold, and the grass was wet under her feet.
With a gasp, Cassie woke, to find herself outside.
Where was she? The sea was so loud.
She took a disoriented step forward and realized, to her horror, she was almost at the edge of the bluff. Another step and she would have fallen over the cliff, tumbling all the way down to where the wicked rocks waited in the darkness.
With a cry she reeled back, twisting away from the dark drop.
“How the hell?”
A light rain was still falling. Her bare feet were freezing and her pajamas were damp and cold.
She lurched back toward the house, where the outside lanterns cast a pool of light onto the paving, illuminating the icy drizzle with a golden glow.
Cassie was shuddering with cold. This hadn’t felt like sleepwalking. It had been so real. She could so easily have jumped in her dream and then what?
What would have happened to her?
The front door was open and rain had blown in, spattering the hallway rug. It felt soft under her bare feet. She closed the door, thinking she should go and have a hot bath, because she was chilled to her bones.
As she closed the front door, the events of the previous night came rushing back to her. She started shivering afresh, even though she knew it was more from shock than cold this time.
She had unleashed a monster.
In her anger, she hadn’t visualized the consequences. She hadn’t thought about what it might mean to Ryan to be accused of being a liar, and what lengths he’d go to in order to protect himself. She visualized him grasping Madison’s slim arm and crushing it with his strong hands, intent on causing visible bruises.
Would he threaten Madison into silence, or force her to say Cassie had done it? Cassie couldn’t bear to think what he might be capable of.
Additionally, she hadn’t realized how financially dependent he was on Trish. The story about his successful business had been another lie. It was struggling and in debt—the signs had all been there and she’d blissfully ignored them.
Ryan couldn’t afford to have anything go wrong.
Cassie feared that for the next few days, she would be in actual danger now that Ryan had dropped his pretense and shown her who he really was.
Calling him a liar meant crossing a line, and when you crossed that line, you became his enemy and all bets were off.
She guessed people had learned to tread carefully around him, and even enable him, rather than face the dark side of his personality, and that was why he got away with doing what he did.
Cassie headed back to the bedroom, but as she passed the family room, she noticed the porch light was still on.
Was the glass door open or closed? It looked open, and the room was drafty.
Cassie headed out to check, glancing at the clock as she passed. It was a few minutes after three in the morning.
The door was open, and Cassie was about to close it when she stopped.
There was something—no, someone—in the chair nearest the balcony. She could see legs stretched out and a dangling arm. It was Ryan. He must have drunk himself into oblivion. She could see a second bottle standing beside the first.
Even with a jacket, he could have serious exposure by now, passed out there in the icy cold. Pushing aside the thought that he deserved it, Cassie went out to wake him up.
“Ryan,” she said, shaking his shoulder.
His head lolled to the side.
It was freezing out here, and Cassie was losing patience.
“Wake up!”
She shook him again, harder. When there was no response, with a tendril of worry taking root inside her, Cassie walked around the chair to stand in front of him.
She stared down, horrified.
His face was pale and hideously bloated. His
