Page 53 of Rage

I twist, grab his wrist, dig in with my fingers. “Let go of me,” I choke out.

He doesn’t let go, doesn’t stop.

I try to get my legs under me so I can get to my feet. But my coordination is wrecked. I get to my knees, end up thrashing uselessly. He continues to drag me, my head and shoulders held off the ground by my collar. The collar digs into my throat, choking me. I reach for it with both hands, try to pull it away from my neck, feel buttons pop.

“Stop!” I shout the word, but it comes out like a kitten’s mewl. “Stop…”

I bend my knees, flop onto my back, but he keeps dragging me. I lash out with my feet, try to dig in with my heels, but he’s too strong.

“Who are you?” I croak. “What do you want?” My brain forms the words but they come out garbled and incoherent.

I stab my nails into his wrist, but he’s wearing gloves and doesn’t respond. I look around only to realize he’s dragged me behind the trailer. It’s darker here. No one around.

“Help me!” My voice is a muted cry. “Help!”

Abruptly, he lets go of my collar. The upper part of my body drops to the ground. He rolls me over so that I’m on my back, looking up at him. I try to get my elbows beneath me in the hope I can get to my feet. Before I can move, he comes down on top of me like a ton of bricks.

I punch with both fists, but my position is bad. Somehow, I clout his chin.

“Bitch.”

He straddles me, sets both hands around my neck, and squeezes. I wrap my hands around his wrists, try to pry them off, but I’m not strong enough. I buck beneath him, but his balance is good; he’s too heavy to dislodge.

“You listen up because I’m only going to say this once,” he says. “You get one chance to do the right thing and this is it. You got it?”

The moment is so surreal I almost can’t believe it’s happening. I stare up at him, try to concentrate on details that will help me identify him later. Ski mask. Black T-shirt. Not enough light to see. Guttural voice. He’s large. Strong. Two hundred pounds. Black gloves.

“Back off the Yutzy case. Stay the fuck off it. If you keep coming, I’ll come back for you. I’ll fuck you up. I’ll fuck up your family. I will fuckin’ destroy your life and everyone you care about.”

I stare up at him, my head swimming. Blood pounding in my ears.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

My mouth is open. I can feel my tongue sticking out. My eyes starting to bulge. Undignified sounds squeezing from my throat. Fear crawling up my spine. He’s sitting on my abdomen. I raise my legs, slam my knees into his back.

The lights dim. Tunnel vision on his face. Vaguely, I’m aware of my hands falling away from his wrists. No more fight left. He’s going to kill me, I think, and I can’t bear the thought of what that will do to Tomasetti.

You won’t get away with this.

The blow is like a boulder slamming into my temple.

A cloak of darkness descends.

The night song that follows is silent and cold.

“Chief!”

The first thing I become aware of is the sound of voices all around. I’m lying on my back. A jackhammer of pain in my head. I open my eyes to see T.J. kneeling next to me. A young woman holding a longneck beer stands behind him, her hand over her mouth. The first thought that strikes my brain is that I’m not dead.

“How badly are you hurt?” T.J.’s voice comes at me as if from a long distance.

I try to answer, end up groaning.

“Easy does it, Chief,” he says. “Just be still, okay?”

T.J. is talking, but the words seem jumbled and running together. He looks worried and out of his depth. I see his mouth moving, but it takes the words a moment to catch up, like a video with the audio askew.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks. “Do you know who did this?”