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Holding my breath as I look around.
But there’s nothing.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and head into the living room first. There’s no one here. No creaking sound, either. Could I have imagined the whole thing? Stress and paranoia can do that to a person, especially after what I’ve been through.
“What are you doing with that bat?” Toby’s voice slips through the darkness so swiftly and subtly that I barely register it.
I whirl around to find him standing just a few feet away, dressed in his usual black—jeans, turtleneck sweater, gloves and boots. This man is not here by accident. He’s here on a mission, and my brain can’t compute the sudden shift of his purpose. He’s Charlene’s assistant. He’s the sweet and friendly guy who helped me out, who offered me comfort and support when I thought I’d have to make it on my own.
“Toby,” I manage, my instincts finally kicking in. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you actually think a little thing like you is going to do any damage with that bat?” he chuckles dryly, the coldness in his eyes sending shivers down my spine.
“What are you doing in my house?” I ask again, louder and hoping that Helen will hear.
He laughs and tries to grab me, but I swing the bat outward to keep him at bay. “Oh, so you’re gonna play hard to get, now,” Toby quips.
“Stay away from me!” I cry out.
Upstairs, I hear a door opening and Miley calling for me. “Momma!”
“Don’t come out of your room, honey!” I shout.
“Avery?” Helen asks, her bare feet padding across the floor.
“Call the police!”
“What’s going on?” she replies.
“Call the fucking police, Helen!” Toby shoots back but his eyes never leave me.
I try to hit him, but he manages to dodge away. He grabs the bat and pushes it off to the side, leaving me vulnerable. It’s all Toby needs to throw a right hook and punch me. The blow is hard, my ears ringing loudly as I stumble backward.
“Helen!” I scream, my vision getting hazy. I can hear her coming down the stairs.
“Oh, my God!” she cries out.
Toby takes out a gun and clicks the safety off. There’s a loud POP and I can hear Helen wailing, followed by a series of heavy thuds as she reaches the staircase landing but not of her own accord. Toby comes closer to me and growls, “Game over.”
“Why are you doing this?” I try to fight him off, but he hits me over the head with the gun, a sharp, red pain flashing through my brain before I feel the cold muzzle pressed against my temple. “Don’t shoot,” I breathe, suddenly aware of how this will end if I keep fighting him.
Fear freezes the blood in my veins. My joints feel stiff, my muscles tight.
“We’re leaving, Avery. Now,” he hisses.
“Okay,” I mumble, devastation burning through me as he forces me out of the house.
I cannot stop him, nor can I check on Helen. I see her on the floor, panting as blood pools beneath her, seeping into the carpet. I hear my girls crying upstairs, and I can’t get to them, either. All I can do is comply. I don’t know who Toby is anymore, or what his endgame is, but I can now clearly see the connection that Kellan, Fallon, and Luke have been trying to make all along. If Charlene had nefarious intentions from the very beginning, Toby is the weapon she planned on wielding against me.
“Don’t say a fucking word,” he says. “Get in the car.”
The night air is cold against my skin. I comply with each of his requests; I was taught to never antagonize my abductor if he’s got leverage over me. I would say a gun pointed at my head and my girls left unprotected is more than enough leverage. I can only pray that Miley remembers what I told her about calling 911. I desperately hope that one of the neighbors heard the gunshot, yet I don’t see any lights coming on.
I’m screwed.
29
Avery
