foot off the brake and pressed on the gas. The car inched forward through the deluge. Her wipers barely cleared the glass enough to enable her to see the path illuminated by her headlights and Mother Nature’s electrical show.
She crested the final hill and envisioned the valley floor the way she’d seen it this afternoon from Lorilee’s studio window. Pastoral. Picturesque. Amazing what a difference a few hours, a little pitch-blackness, and Mother Nature’s ire could make.
She squinted into the darkness, spotted the comforting lights of the farmhouse and the outbuildings in the distance. The rain and wind increased, but the hail stopped. Lightning and thunder followed one another in rapid succession now, matching the staccato rhythm of her pulse.
Sweat rolled down her neck and dampened her bra. She didn’t dare release the steering wheel to adjust the temperature on the defroster. Her palms slipped and she tightened her grip even more. Lightning struck the ground nearby, and a whimper escapedher lips. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; she smelled something burning. Too close. Too dangerous. “Show-off.”
Her bravado didn’t help.
The wind whistled around her closed doors as she pulled to a stop in front of the big white house at last. It looked more like the haunted house at an amusement park than the pastoral scene she’d viewed earlier today. She swallowed the lump lodged in her throat, but that didn’t stop the tremor that had taken hold. She shook like a human vibrator from head to toe, and she knew it wouldn’t stop until the storm had passed.
Lightning flashed again. Again. Again. The hot, burning stench filled her nostrils. Panic swarmed around her. Raindrops pummeled her car, sounding like a semiautomatic battering a metal coffin. Terror and heat crowded the cramped interior. She released the clutch while the car was still in gear and it lurched forward, sputtered, and died. She groped in the dark for the door handle and wrenched it open, but the seat belt held her captive.
Like an animal caught in a steel trap, she struggled to free herself. An inhuman sound rumbled from somewhere deep inside her until, finally, she broke loose and bolted for the front door. The house was dark now. Damn!
Rain soaked her within two steps of her car. By the time she lurched onto the porch she was drenched.
Terror ripped at her. Shelter. She had to escape. Hide. Run. She pounded and clawed at the front door, pounded again. It swung open and she stumbled. Beth plunged forward into the Malones’ foyer.Her screwup registered just as a new kind of fear closed in on her.
Please don’t hit me again.
Crushing pain slammed into her face before she fell with a sickening thud.
Don’t hit —
Then blessed blackness saved her ass.
C HAPTER F IVE
Pearl pulled open the back door and slipped into the Malones’ mud room. Sarah would still be awake, of course, but Mark and Grace should be in bed by now. Ty had insisted that Sarah could handle the children, but this storm was a humdinger.
All right, she was really here to ease her own worries. “Might as well ‘fess up, Pearl, old girl,” she muttered as she removed her hooded raincoat and hung it from a peg. She shivered and rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. She’d just sit with the kids a spell until the storm passed, then head back home and listen to Cecil gloat, “I told you they’d be fine.”
But she couldn’t help herself. With Lorilee gone, worrying about this family was her job, and she always took pride in a job well done.
Ty hardly ever went out in the evening, but tomorrow was Mark’s twelfth birthday, and he had to pick up the gift he’d ordered from Robey’s. The least Pearl could do was check on the youngsters.
If you asked her, which nobody ever did, that young man needed to get out more, meet a nice woman, fall in love again…Pearl paused just inside the kitchen and drew a deep breath.
Lordy, Lorilee, but we sure miss you,
She crested the final hill and envisioned the valley floor the way she’d seen it this afternoon from Lorilee’s studio window. Pastoral. Picturesque. Amazing what a difference a few hours, a little pitch-blackness, and Mother Nature’s ire could make.
She squinted into the darkness, spotted the comforting lights of the farmhouse and the outbuildings in the distance. The rain and wind increased, but the hail stopped. Lightning and thunder followed one another in rapid succession now, matching the staccato rhythm of her pulse.
Sweat rolled down her neck and dampened her bra. She didn’t dare release the steering wheel to adjust the temperature on the defroster. Her palms slipped and she tightened her grip even more. Lightning struck the ground nearby, and a whimper escapedher lips. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end; she smelled something burning. Too close. Too dangerous. “Show-off.”
Her bravado didn’t help.
The wind whistled around her closed doors as she pulled to a stop in front of the big white house at last. It looked more like the haunted house at an amusement park than the pastoral scene she’d viewed earlier today. She swallowed the lump lodged in her throat, but that didn’t stop the tremor that had taken hold. She shook like a human vibrator from head to toe, and she knew it wouldn’t stop until the storm had passed.
Lightning flashed again. Again. Again. The hot, burning stench filled her nostrils. Panic swarmed around her. Raindrops pummeled her car, sounding like a semiautomatic battering a metal coffin. Terror and heat crowded the cramped interior. She released the clutch while the car was still in gear and it lurched forward, sputtered, and died. She groped in the dark for the door handle and wrenched it open, but the seat belt held her captive.
Like an animal caught in a steel trap, she struggled to free herself. An inhuman sound rumbled from somewhere deep inside her until, finally, she broke loose and bolted for the front door. The house was dark now. Damn!
Rain soaked her within two steps of her car. By the time she lurched onto the porch she was drenched.
Terror ripped at her. Shelter. She had to escape. Hide. Run. She pounded and clawed at the front door, pounded again. It swung open and she stumbled. Beth plunged forward into the Malones’ foyer.Her screwup registered just as a new kind of fear closed in on her.
Please don’t hit me again.
Crushing pain slammed into her face before she fell with a sickening thud.
Don’t hit —
Then blessed blackness saved her ass.
C HAPTER F IVE
Pearl pulled open the back door and slipped into the Malones’ mud room. Sarah would still be awake, of course, but Mark and Grace should be in bed by now. Ty had insisted that Sarah could handle the children, but this storm was a humdinger.
All right, she was really here to ease her own worries. “Might as well ‘fess up, Pearl, old girl,” she muttered as she removed her hooded raincoat and hung it from a peg. She shivered and rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. She’d just sit with the kids a spell until the storm passed, then head back home and listen to Cecil gloat, “I told you they’d be fine.”
But she couldn’t help herself. With Lorilee gone, worrying about this family was her job, and she always took pride in a job well done.
Ty hardly ever went out in the evening, but tomorrow was Mark’s twelfth birthday, and he had to pick up the gift he’d ordered from Robey’s. The least Pearl could do was check on the youngsters.
If you asked her, which nobody ever did, that young man needed to get out more, meet a nice woman, fall in love again…Pearl paused just inside the kitchen and drew a deep breath.
Lordy, Lorilee, but we sure miss you,
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