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The deafening sound goes on, crescendoing.
Fear shakes me. What is it? It’s too loud and long to be another gunshot.
LA is under siege. The hurricane!
All at once the lights go off.
The house goes pitch black.
“What the f—?” I hear Marley mutter under her breath.
We’ve lost power. I can’t see her and she can’t see me. The doll dangling from my hand, my baby wailing in her carrier, I flee. My mind races. My heart races. In the total darkness, I may have a chance to escape her. Save my baby. Save myself.
I’m not yet out of the kitchen when Marley fires the gun again. Bullets ricochet off the walls.
Then suddenly, white-hot pain tears through me, searing my flesh as I silently scream.
I put my hand to the back of my shoulder. A warm, scarlet liquid soaks through my top.
I’ve been shot!
FIFTY-THREE
MARLEY
I hear Mia wailing. Thank the good Lord, she’s alive.
But I’m not sure about Ava. Did one of the bullets hit her? The rain’s so thunderous, I didn’t hear a scream or a thud on the floor.
Impulsively, I pull the trigger again, but this time the gun doesn’t go off. What the hell? I try again. Again nada. Shit. The gun is out of ammunition. How could stupid Ned not keep it fully loaded?
I toss the gun. It’s time for plan B. The knife. Maybe it’s better this way. More control. No risk of harming my little Mia. And Ava, if she’s still alive, can die the way my poor sister died. Butchered to death.
I carefully fish for it in my bag, not wanting to slice my hand. Finding it, I toss the bag and listen carefully for any signs of Ava. My ears like radar. I can still hear Mia. Her wails growing fainter and fainter. That means Ava’s alive and on the move.
Gripping the mammoth knife, I blindly go after her, bumping into things, hard edges, and corners, trying not to think of all the bruises I’m getting. On my next frenzied step, I almost go flying.
Catching both my balance and breath, I forge ahead. Ava must be nearby. Mia’s howls pierce my ears. She’s almost mine. I can feel her in my arms.
FIFTY-FOUR
AVA
I’m okay. I think the bullet grazed me and it’s only a surface wound. Maybe the padded harness strap deflected it. But I may not be so lucky again. Marley is a sick, cold-blooded killer—and she won’t stop until she has what she wants.
My baby. My precious Isa.
I know this house like I know the back of my hand. I’ve been trapped inside it for what seems like a lifetime. Using my hands to guide me, I grope the walls and countertops and make my way to the living room. My heart racing, all five senses on high alert, my body is like an antenna.
Expecting to hear more bullets flying off the walls, all I hear is the thud of Marley’s Uggs. She’s coming after me!
The gun has gone silent. At least for now.
“Ava, give her up,” screams Marley, getting closer. “You can run but you can’t hide.”
On my next ragged breath, I drop to all fours and crawl across the wood floor with a still wailing Isa in her carrier pressed against my chest, the Baby Reborn doll dragging along the floorboards beside me. My shoulder throbs, but I’m able to work through the pain. Pure adrenaline is propelling me.
Moving like a crocodile, I hide behind Ned’s oversized leather sofa, shielding myself and my baby from more possible gunfire. I hear my blood pounding in my ears, my heart thudding in my chest. My breathing is shallow, my breaths coming out in short panicked pants, but fortunately the rain drowns them out. I stay here for a few moments, catching my breath and strategizing my next move.
