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She gritted her teeth and grabbed her mini Maglite.
“No,” Bella Dawn whimpered. “No.”
“No, what? You’re okay. You’re safe.”
A scuffle of shoes on hardwood.
Violet snapped to attention as a hand brought something crashing down, cracking her skull and sending her skittering to the floor.
“She might be. For now. But you aren’t,” a reedy voice said.
Cecil.
Pain radiated through her body, and spots formed before her eyes.
She thrust her leg up and out, kicking him in the A-frame. “Run, Bella Dawn. Go!” Violet rose to her feet, nausea rushing over her. Where was her gun?
Violet took advantage of his crumpled state and drop-kicked him in the face; the sound of bone crunched against her boot, and she knew his nose was annihilated.
Bella Dawn’s adrenaline must have kicked in. She bolted from the room.
Cecil howled and cursed, and she kicked him again until he was facedown on the floor. She had no cuffs. She spied her gun on the bed and went for it, but Cecil grabbed her waistband, ripping her away from the bed, from her gun. She fell backward, hitting her head again and crying out in pain. His body was strong, compact. Sinewy.
He was tougher than he looked. But she’d already witnessed how fast he could be at the bar.
“You saw me that day you were here. In the woods. Looked right at me. Smiled.”
His hands wrapped around her throat as he straddled her body. She hadn’t seen anything. Most certainly had not smiled. But she’d felt something. Had it been him? She reached up to stab his eyes, but he withdrew his head out of her reach. “You look like her, you know? Like Ruby.”
“Where is Ruby?” she croaked as he cut off most of her air. Her throat ached and chest burned.
She bit his hand and he howled, releasing his grip. She hissed and punched him in the sternum. He lost his breath, and she shoved him off. Reaching for the gun would take too long.
Jumping up, she shot past him into the littered living room, tripping over a glass bottle and hauling it to the back door. Outside the temperature had dropped, the rain falling in heavy sheets. No stars. No moon.
Instantly her hair was drenched, matting to her head. Water ran down her windbreaker and sent a chill over her body, and her head hammered. She bolted straight for the forest. Where was Bella Dawn? She darted behind a huge tree and forced her pulse to slow. It beat in her ears like a deafening whoosh, and she needed to listen. The rain hid footfalls. Good and bad for her.
Everything was black. Only shadows and shapes. No thunder. No lightning to give her a second to see.
She was blind, but she had sight. This was only a small sliver of what his victims had experienced. Before he came out of the darkness, not as light and salvation, but an instrument of torture and death. She was being hunted.
A bloodcurdling scream pierced through the rain from above. The tree house. The hanging bridges with rope railings.
Bella Dawn must have scrambled up to hide, and now Cecil had her.
“Come out, pretty agent. Come up and play house with me.” His laugh singsonged in her direction.
He was using Bella Dawn as a bargaining chip. “Lord,” she whispered, “I’m asking for Bella Dawn’s safety now. She’s been through enough.”
Cecil had the upper hand. She needed to get it back. She went with her gut and what she knew about him and his psyche, hoping it would work in her favor. “Which one of us will play mommy, CeCe? I know how much you enjoy dollies.” Hit him where it hurt, fuel his rage to the point he wouldn’t care about Bella Dawn. He’d come for her, and she’d be ready.
Violet knew killer instincts.
He called her a few choices names. “I mean it.” His voice shook, proving she’d struck a nerve. “I’ll throw her from the bridge. Come up right now.”
“Why? So you can throw her off when I get up there? I’m not an idiot. Send her down. I’ll come and play.” But he wasn’t going to like her version of house.
“He’s dead. That detective you’re constantly with. I killed him. He’s lying in blood on the side of the house.”
