Dear, sweet Bryson. Lying on the floor, his face turned toward her. Eyes closed forever.
His murderer slapped the other handcuff onto Bryson’s right wrist and ratcheted it closed, anchoring her to his body. She looked up in question. He’d retrieved the bat, but instead of slamming it down on her, ending this, he turned away. His shoes clomped across the floor as he headed down the hall to the left. Dress pants. He was wearing gray dress pants and a white shirt. A formerly white shirt. Had he just left work? What kind of person did this—entered someone’s house and beat them to death after getting off work, like it was a normal part of their day?
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her throat, but died before reaching her lips. The monster had opened a door and headed inside. A muffled sound echoed from the room. Was someone else there? The sickening unmistakable crunch of wood on bone had her gasping in horror. The other half of the couple who lived here, Mr. Broderick. He must have been in the room, probably tied up. A bribe so that his wife would do what the monster told her to do.
Bile rose again in her throat. She turned away from Bryson’s body just in time to empty the contents of her stomach against the foyer wall. She shuddered and wiped her mouth.
“Dear Lord,” she prayed, the whisper finally passing through her tight throat. “Please let me die quickly. And don’t let me grovel or beg for my life. Give me strength. Please, God. Help me.”
Something fluttered against her shoe.
She gasped and whirled around. The fingers of Bryson’s right hand moved against her, tapped her toe. She shot him a look of shock, and met his pain-filled startling blue gaze.
“Bryson,” she whispered. “You’re alive. Oh my God. Bryson.” She lifted her shaking right hand to his face and gently cupped it. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
His eyes seemed unfocused. He coughed and blood dribbled out of his mouth to the floor.
“Shhh,” she whispered. “Don’t try to talk.” She jerked her head up, realizing there weren’t any sounds in the other room anymore. He’d be coming out soon. Coming for her and Bryson. “Close your eyes,” she whispered. “Play dead. He thinks you’re dead. Just, no matter what happens to me, just lay there. Don’t move. Do you hear me? Play dead. It’s your only chance.”
His fingers tapped her again and his lips moved.
She glanced down the hall, then leaned down, trying to hear what he was saying.
“Run. Get. Away.” His whisper was so low she could barely make it out. “Go.”
Tears splashed onto his face and she realized she was crying. “Oh, Bryson. I’m sorry. I thought you were... I thought it was too late. And I couldn’t make myself leave you. And now, I can’t.” She lifted her left hand, showing him the handcuffs that bound them together. “It’s okay, though,” she whispered, looking down the hall again. What was taking the monster so long? What was he doing in there? “It’s okay,” she repeated. “There’s nothing I can do to save myself. I accept that. But he thinks you’re already dead. Lie very still. No matter what. You’ll make it. Just play dead.”
His lips moved again, his eyes pleading with her to listen. “Cane. Get. Cane.”
“You think you can stand?” A rush of hope flooded through her. “Here. I’ll help you.”
“Cane,” his hoarse whisper was louder now. “Get the cane.”
She stretched out their linked hands and scrambled over, reaching out her right hand as far as she could. It took some contorting, but she was finally able to grab it. “Got it.”
“I’ll take that.” The monster jerked it out of her hand and backed up several feet. “Getting feisty, Teagan? Planning on trying to beat me over the head with this like I did your friend?” He chuckled and motioned toward Bryson. “Give me his cell phone. And yours. Hurry.”
“Mine is in my purse.” She motioned toward her purse where it had fallen to the foyer floor earlier.
“Prove it. Turn your shorts pockets inside out.”
She did as he asked.
“Now his. Get his cell phone and toss it to me so I can verify that you don’t do something stupid, like try to press 911 before you give it to me. If you do that, you’re both dead. Understood?”
She drew a ragged breath and nodded, then dug in Bryson’s suit jacket pockets until she found his phone. For the briefest second, she hesitated, desperately wanting to press the three precious keys that would call for help. But the monster was watching. And he’d shifted the aim of his gun toward Bryson’s head as if in warning. She hurriedly stood as best she could with her arm cuffed to Bryson and tossed him the phone.
After checking the screen, he threw the phone on the couch, then motioned toward Bryson again. “Take that watch thing off his wrist and get rid of it. I don’t know what it can do, whether you can make calls with it. I’m not taking chances.”
She quickly took it off and tossed it down the foyer.
“Help him up. We’ll bring him with us. I need to know how much he knows before I kill him.”
She hesitated. “He’s already dead. Just uncuff me and I’ll go with you.”
He made a clucking, disapproving sound with his mouth. “Now, Teagan. Don’t lie to me. I doubt I hit him hard enough tokill him. But if you’d rather I take care of things right now, to make it easier for you so you don’t have to help him walk, I can get the bat—”
“No!” She shook her head. “Please. Don’t. Just...give me the cane. I’ll help him. But I need the cane to get him on his feet, to help him walk.”
