Dead Right (43 page)

I can do it. I can do it.
She struggled to swal ow with the gag in her mouth, but her throat was so dry, even that hurt.

And that damn col ar…

I’ll get free.
She wouldn’t let Ray win. She’d fight back.

Because he wasn’t her master. Fear wasn’t her master, either.

But where is he? And what’s he doing?

As if in answer, she heard movement. Then the beam of a flashlight suddenly appeared.

He was here. And she wasn’t ready.

25

R
ay’s light swept within inches of Madeline’s foot. She was sure he’d seen her, but she held perfectly stil . She opened her eyes as wide as she could and yet she couldn’t even make out his shape. It was too dark. There was only that beam from his flashlight. And his footsteps, creaking on the wooden porch, coming closer.

Closing her eyes, she instinctively turned her face away in preparation for the worst. But his light didn’t land on her.

He opened the door, hesitated at the threshold, then went inside.

She had a few more seconds.

Drawing on her last reserves of strength, Madeline continued to saw at the ropes around her wrists. She might as wel be trying to chew them with her teeth, for al the good that dul blade seemed to do her. But then she felt a slight give. Or was it her imagination?

Ray was stil inside. She had no idea what he was doing, but she could hear him moving around and knew she didn’t have much time. She worked more frantical y, pul ing and twisting her hands until her wrists throbbed so badly she nearly passed out from the pain. But her efforts final y paid off. Somehow she’d managed to cut the rope enough that she could, with much pain, slip one hand out. Then she merely had to shake her other hand, and she was free.

Pul ing the gag down, she hurried to untie her feet.

Unfortunately, the cold was no longer her al y. She was trembling violently. And her fingers were so swol en and stiff she could hardly use them. She fumbled with the knot but couldn’t untie it.

Should she try to slide away from the cabin door?

Around to the side, where she wouldn’t feel quite so vulnerable? She longed to—but didn’t dare. She was afraid the noise of her movements would draw Ray back. She was better off staying where she was and getting out of the ropes so she could sneak away more quietly. At least if he caught her at that point, she’d be able to run, kick, fight.

And she’d have the ax.

A creak alerted her to the fact that Ray was at the threshold. But he wasn’t using his flashlight, and he seemed to be moving stealthily. Why? Was he about to spring at her? Or did he feel that the light made his whereabouts too obvious?

Either way, his lack of light worked in her favor. Now he couldn’t see anything, either. She just had to be careful not to stumble into him once she was capable of running.

She thought she heard him move again, but she couldn’t tel in which direction. He was close, she knew that. He was probably standing two feet from her, listening, waiting.

After stretching her sore hands, she worked at the knot some more.

Calm down. Ignore him. Make no sound but feel the
rope. Start in the right place. That’s it.

Another creak sent chil s down her spine. Judging by the proximity of that noise, she could reach out and touch him.

He even knocked a piece of wood off the pile above her—

most likely a mistake on his part—but it nearly hit her as it tumbled to the ground.

She covered her head with her arms and remained exactly where she was. She wanted to take the ax that was behind her and swing it at him. But she had so little strength. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to strike much of a blow. He’d wrest it away far too easily. And her feet were stil tied.

She’d be stupid to act so soon. She could blow her only opportunity.

Patience.
Swal owing hard, she opened and closed her burning hands, hoping to get the blood flowing again, and persevered with the knot. She couldn’t wiggle her feet back and forth to help loosen the bands, couldn’t risk any noise, which made her task harder. Ray seemed to sense that she was there. He hovered on the porch, within a few feet of her.

The tension in the ropes around her feet began to ease.

Madeline was almost free. She’d slip careful y away, figure out how to find civilization and pray she didn’t freeze to death first. But she must’ve made some sound as she started to rise because Ray’s flashlight suddenly snapped on, so bright it temporarily blinded her.

She screamed as he lunged at her, then fel back, scraping herself on the wood. “No!” Her voice was unrecognizable to her own ears, but she had the presence of mind to bring her legs up and kick him as hard as she could. She knew she’d hit him in a good spot when he dropped the flashlight and sank to his knees.

Scrambling, Madeline tried to run, but she couldn’t feel her feet. She fel and whacked her knee on the porch, got up and fel again.

“I’l kil you for this,” he rasped.

She’d never heard such deadly intent. Grabbing the flashlight that had now rol ed closer to her than him, and the ax, she hobbled around the house—and somehow managed to keep her balance.

She could hear him trying to limp after her, stil wheezing and cursing from the pain, and turned off the flashlight. He’d have to track her by sound. She wasn’t going to give him a beacon to fol ow.

The forest stood dark and silent al around her. It was too dark to move very fast. She could turn her ankle or fal into a creek or gul y. Forced to slow, she glanced behind her but couldn’t see or hear anything. She longed to put some space between them, then hide and wait for morning. But she knew that wasn’t a reasonable plan. Morning could be hours away—she was disoriented in her perception of time

—and it was far too cold to stay outside. She didn’t have boots or warm clothes, wouldn’t survive even three hours.

And because she didn’t know the area, she had no idea which direction to take. She ran the risk of returning to the cabin without even knowing it, wandering around indefinitely, or fal ing off a cliff.

No, she couldn’t hope to avoid Ray until she found help.

She had to get inside, get warm, acquire some kind of transportation. He stood between her and al of that. Which meant her best option was to do something about it—and the sooner the better. The longer she waited, the weaker and colder she was going to get.

I can’t go back into the cabin.
After the pil s she’d ingested, she stil wasn’t herself. She was so tired she could barely lift the ax. She was tempted to give up, to sit down and cry. None of this was fair; she’d done nothing to deserve it.

But if she wanted to live, she had to get him before he got her.

Ray leaned against the cabin until he was sufficiently recovered, wondering what he should do now. He couldn’t go after her. He had another flashlight in his glove box, but if he used it, she’d know where he was at al times. If he didn’t use it, there was no tel ing what he might walk into. He could chase her around the forest al night, but that would be stupid.

He had to lure her back to the cabin. And the only way he knew to do that was to make her believe he was giving up.

Climbing into his truck, he started the engine, backed up and headed toward the road. When he’d gone about a hundred yards, he parked, more enraged than ever. She had to come out of hiding eventual y; she’d freeze to death if she didn’t.

When Madeline heard Ray’s truck, she couldn’t believe it. He was leaving? Had she injured him more badly than she’d thought? She doubted it. Maybe she’d gotten lucky enough to hit him where it hurt, but she lacked the strength to do much damage.

Was he afraid she’d find help and bring the authorities down on him? That wasn’t likely, either—or not in the immediate future, anyway. He knew she didn’t have a clue about where she was. He’d brought her bound and gagged beneath a tarp. A person didn’t get much more disoriented than that.

So what? She wasn’t sure what he was doing. But she needed warmth and shelter and knew of only one place to get it. That meant he’d find her if he returned.

She needed a plan. And she needed it fast.

Dragging the ax behind her, she hurried for the cabin.

Ray waited long enough that he felt safe using the flashlight to make his way back, but he didn’t need it once he started down the narrow, winding drive. Even from twenty yards, he could see that Madeline had a fire going.

The flicker in the front window looked like a beacon, an invitation welcoming him home. She’d gone back inside and was hoping to get warm, poor thing.

He smiled grimly. He’d show her warm. He’d put her hand in the fire and hold it there until it was reduced to ashes. She’d probably pass out, but it’d be a nice reminder of who was boss when she woke up.

He couldn’t imagine she’d fight him after that.

Stepping very quietly onto the porch, he peered through the window. Sure enough, she was sleeping in front of the fire. He could see her al bundled up in the blankets he’d used to bury her in the closet.

This would be easy.

He put his hand on the door. It was locked. But that just made him smile even wider. Because he had the key.

Madeline was final y warm. And the feeling had come back to her hands and feet, although they were stil swol en.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Ray drove off, but she hadn’t heard a sound since. Now she was almost
too
comfortable. Exhaustion weighed so heavily upon her that she could hardly keep her eyes open. She’d been battling sleep for what seemed like an eternity.

Maybe Ray had real y left. Maybe he wasn’t coming back.

Hang on. Stay vigilant,
she told herself. But she
had
to rest.

She checked the bundle she’d arranged by the fire to make sure it looked convincing and began to slouch against the wal . But then she heard a slight creak and the doorknob near her head turned very slowly, very quietly.

Suddenly alert, she pul ed her legs into her body and huddled closer to the wal . Her skin crawled as she sensed Ray peeking in the window on the other side of the door.

Holding her breath, she hoped he saw her decoy—and the col ar she’d tossed to the side of it. The position of that col ar was her message to him. She would never al ow him to control her. She’d fight and win, or she’d die trying.

Would he be fooled by the scene she’d set up? She had no idea—but guessed he was when she heard him insert the key in the lock.

The moment of truth had come. Licking her dry, cracked lips, she slid very slowly up the wal until she was standing at her ful height. Then she lifted the ax over her head.

He cracked open the door and careful y pushed it inward, toward her. She could smel Ray. The scent of his clothes, his body, made nausea roil in her stomach. Briefly, she closed her eyes and offered a prayer for strength. But he wasn’t coming in as decisively as she’d expected.

Move, you son of a bitch!
Her plan depended on it.
I’m
right in front of the fire. See that? Go for what you want….

The door separated them. She couldn’t attack him until he cleared it. But he was being so cautious!

Bending silently, she pul ed the fishing line she’d found on the mantle and tied to the bottom blanket of her make-believe person. She knew he’d seen it move when she heard the quick intake of his breath. Final y, he came in, quickly and with purpose, and the other fishing line she’d strung caught him across the ankles.

He fought fal ing—didn’t immediately topple over as she’d pictured in her mind. But her little trap sent him off balance enough that she was able to step out from behind the door and swing the ax before he even knew she was there.

He cried out when the blade slashed into what she thought was his shoulder and jerked back so hard it yanked the handle right out of her hands. Her hesitancy to actual y strike someone with a weapon like that had made her weak. She felt him swipe at her in the next instant and cut her with something—a knife? It had to be. The cut wasn’t deep, and was only on her forearm, but it stung and bled and the violence curdled her blood.

She wanted it to be over. But her blow didn’t incapacitate him. He was screaming and cursing and stumbling around, trying to pul the ax out of his shoulder with one hand while clutching at her with the other.

When she managed to avoid his grasp, he fel to one knee and worked the ax free. She guessed he was bleeding pretty badly, but she couldn’t see much in the shadowy room and was glad to be spared the visual results of her actions. He raised the ax as if he’d strike her with it, but she grabbed it at the same time. She couldn’t let him have the weapon.

They wrestled for it, each grabbing and pul ing, groaning and cursing. His injury was much worse than hers, however, and she could feel him losing strength and balance, fading, slowing like a wind-up toy running out of torque. He was probably losing a lot of blood. She couldn’t believe he was stil alive.

Eventual y, she wrenched the ax away from him. When she did, he glared up at her with eyes that seemed to glow with hatred.

“You won’t win,” she said. “I’l destroy you, if I have to.”

He gave an odd, bitter laugh. “You can’t destroy me.

Your father already did that.”

“What did my father ever do to you?”

When he spoke, his voice was emotionless. “He made me crave my own daughter.”

“No!” she said, recoiling. “He would never do that.”

“He did, and more. Just ask Grace. If I know your father, he raped her. Over and over.”

Madeline was shaking again. Ray was trying to gain the upper hand any way he could—wasn’t he? She’d decided he was the one who’d owned that suitcase in the Cadil ac.

He was the one who’d confessed to her father. Her father was going to turn him in, but—

Suddenly, Grace’s chalk-white face when she saw her panties on that table in the police station appeared in Madeline’s mind. Grace claimed she’d never been molested. But she wouldn’t have kept quiet for Ray.

She would only lie to protect her family.