Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 677(@200wpm)___ 541(@250wpm)___ 451(@300wpm)
The worst part is, she’s right.
Any small-town police force will be busy with accidents and cars run off the road. There won’t be anyone on the little road by the lake house. No one will notice the blaze and call it in until the house is toast.
That is, unless I can get in touch with someone, which I can’t without my phone.
She’s closer now, almost pinning me against the wall.
Then lightning flashes, and I see my chance.
Screaming, I rush forward, darting under her arm as I plow into her.
Maybe she’s stronger, but I’m younger and faster.
I knock her off-kilter for the tiniest second.
Just enough time to swerve, avoiding her club.
Then I go pounding through the kitchen, the living room, and then beyond to the study.
A few more steps. Come on! Come on!
I slam the door shut behind me, turning the lock.
Behind it, Viola howls with rage.
Her hateful scream merges with the pounding storm, even when she starts slamming her fists against the door.
Whatever state the rest of the place is in, the doors are solid slabs.
Thanks, Gramps and Holden.
At least there are makeshift weapons in here.
I look around wildly.
Antique chairs, but they’re the old-fashioned kind, way too heavy for me to lug around and throw easily.
A solid lamp, maybe. A club of my own.
And beside it, on the desk, I see Dan’s little drummer boy from the fort. He must’ve left it behind in the rush to pack up and leave.
I feel the big key on the back, and I start winding it as she hisses obscenities, trying her best to break down the door.
All I need is a quick distraction.
Something to draw her attention for a few seconds, and I’ll have the upper hand. That lamp is solid brass and must weigh ten pounds.
One good swing and she’ll go down.
The door shakes. Hinges groan as her kicks get louder.
The wind rattles the old glass window behind.
My hands are shaking, but I’ve never been more ready in my life.
“You feisty little bitch! Get back here!” Viola shrieks, slamming her boot at the door again, the wood creaking under the strain. The hinges wrench, only held on by a few loose screws. “I was gonna make it quick, but now you’ll pay!”
Drummer boy, let’s go!
I set him down a couple feet in front of the door and unplug the lamp, hoisting it in my hand as I stand to one side. I’ll be behind the door when it breaks open.
The little metal figure bangs his drums as he marches forward, just as the door gives one last miserable crack!
Viola charges through it like a mad horse.
She instantly sees the tiny moving figure in the middle of the floor and stops, this puzzled look on her face.
Bingo!
I raise the lamp, ready to wait one more second until she’s in range, but she pitches forward before I swing.
Huh?
She crashes down on top of the toy and there’s a metallic crunch.
What happened? With the lamp still clutched in my hands, I turn to the large, dark figure in the doorway.
“Kane!” I gush out, running forward, relief coursing through me. “Oh, thank God. I didn’t think you’d be back yet. Viola and Joseph, they’re planning to…” I trail off as lightning flashes in the window, revealing his face.
Not Kane.
“Lee?” I whisper, fumbling for the light switch and flicking it on. The clear view only proves what I knew—it’s Lee Glazkov, the ceramics guy.
I don’t understand.
“What are you doing here?” I croak. My voice has rusted shut.
Instead of smiling, he looks at me coldly. No hint of the same warmth whatsoever at the craft fair or the museum.
No smile.
No compassion.
No relief that I’m okay even though he just whacked Viola Babin to the floor.
He had to know she was trying to hurt me.
I’m so confused.
“You know, Miss Margot,” he says flatly, “you really should have left with the kids when I told you.”
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
“You… you left the note?” I whisper, backing away, horror gripping my throat.
“I thought I made myself clear, yes. You and the kids had to leave. They’re gone, yet you’re still here.” There’s a sadness in his tone that scares me.
“But what do you want? Why are you doing this?” My voice rises.
With a disinterested sigh, he nudges a limp Viola away with the toe of his boot.
“I warned you, didn’t I? Just look at this. You and your ‘friends’ have made my life very, very complicated.”
Friends.
Does that mean he found Joseph, too?
But what the hell does he want with me?
I have to warn Kane.
His eyes flicker darkly the second I reach into my pocket, touching my phone.
His thin, vacant smile tells me one thing: he’s no savior, and the Babins were the easiest part of this nightmare.
22
HOME TURF (KANE)
This fucking storm.
Between the slanted rain and shrieking wind, the traffic getting out of Bar Harbor has slowed to a crawl.