“Static?”
She nodded.
He pulled out his phone and checked the screen. Then he punched a button and held it to his ear. He swore and tossed his phone on top of the island. “Run back to the office and lock yourself inside.” He hobbled to his wheelchair and plopped down.
“Why? What’s going on?”
He wheeled around the island. “Someone’s jamming the cell signal. And there’s only one person I can think of who would have a reason to do that.”
The blood rushed from her face, leaving her cold and shaking as she hurried after him into the family room. “Avarice Lowe. You think he’s on his way here?”
“No.” He glanced up at her as he wheeled past the L formed by the two couches. “I think he’salreadyhere. Probably lurking outside, gathering his courage.” He glanced at his wrist and swore. “I should have replaced my computer-watch the moment I got back. It would have warned me if someone was on the property. Go to the office, Teagan. Hurry. There aren’t any windows in there. Lock the main door, then lock the doors that lead into the bathroom and bedroom. Wedge a chair beneath the door to the hallway.Go.”
Ignoring his dictate, she ran after him into the master bedroom. “I’m not leaving you. Come with me.”
He wheeled to the nightstand. “I’ve got this. I’ll take care of Lowe. But I have to know you’re safe, out of harm’s way. Go on.”
He yanked open the top drawer.
“Okay, okay.” She headed toward the door. “But I wish you’d let me help you instead of—”
He was suddenly beside her in his wheelchair, shoving her back into the room. She stumbled but caught herself in time to see him shut the door and lock it. His face was drawn and pale as he met her questioning gaze. “My pistol’s not in the nightstand.He’s inside the house.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
He’s inside the house.
Those horrifying words ran through Teagan’s mind over and over as she watched Bryson leaning against the master bathroom counter after ditching the wheelchair because it was in his way. He was using duct tape to secure the thick towels that he’d wrapped around her arms. She didn’t ask why. She knew why. The disorganized killer, the one who’d murdered eight of the Kentucky Ripper’s victims, was quite the fan of knives. Bryson was using the towels to protect her in case Lowe got past him and came after her next. As to why he had duct tape in his bathroom, that was a discussion for another day.If they lived another day.
The psychopath in the main room had already tried to get into the bedroom once. He’d scraped knives underneath the closed door, swiping at Bryson’s feet. Then Lowe had used his body like a battering ram, screaming obscenities as he tried to crash through the door. It was only because Bryson had used his own strength against the door that Lowe had given up. But not for long. He was still out there. Planning his next assault. Even now she could hear his shoes thumping and squeaking across the floor as he paced back and forth mumbling incoherent words to himself.
Dear God. Please help us.
Bryson tossed the roll of duct tape onto the counter and reached under the sink. “This is a last resort.” He handed her an aerosol can of deodorant. “I don’t want you near enough tohim to use this. God willing, when you climb out the bedroom window, he’ll be so busy with me that he won’t get a chance to go after you.”
She sucked in a breath, fear for both of them making her flush hot and cold.
“But if he gets past me,” he continued, “and he catches up to you, spray his eyes. He won’t expect that. It will hurt like hell and he’ll be temporarily blinded. Run past him and go for the truck.” He dug the keys out of his pocket and shoved them into her jeans pocket. “Drive down the mountain like a bat out of hell. Don’t stop. Go straight to the police station. You hear me? Do not stop at some neighbor’s house or a little country store. If he ends up following you, he could go after you again. Go straight to the police. It’s almost a straight shot once you reach the bottom of the mountain. You remember the directions I told you?”
He lightly shook her when she didn’t answer.
“I do. I remember,” she said. “But none of this makes sense. Why don’t you put towels on your arms too? And climb out the window with me?”
He gave her an exasperated look. “I was up all night. My hip never had a chance to recuperate. I’m not running anywhere. And the towels would make it too hard for me to maneuver in a fight. This is the way it has to be. He’s already cracked the doorjamb. The next time he tries to get through the door, he’ll be inside the bedroom. While I keep him occupied, you’re going to climb out that window and run for the truck.”
“I don’t want to run away like a coward and leave you. Don’t ask me to do that again.”
He grabbed a small pair of scissors from one of the drawers and set them on top of the counter. Next he grabbed a folded sheet from beneath the cabinet and tucked it under his arm. “You have to leave me. It’s the only way.”
She frantically shook her head and set the can back on the counter. “No. It’s not. Two against one, remember? You and me against the world. He can’t kill both of us. If we attack him together, we’ll defeat him.”
“No, Teagan. You heard his roar of rage earlier. You saw the knives he was shoving under the door. Probably the only reason he didn’t shoot his way through is that he doesn’t want to end his fun that quickly. He’s a cutter. He wants to enjoy himself first. But if he sees you running for the truck through the front windows, he’ll use the gun. You can’t outrun a bullet. I have to distract him, try to get the gun to give you a chance.”
He shoved the can in her hand, grabbed the pair of scissors and pulled her out of the bathroom.
A shoe squeaked against the polished floor outside the bedroom door.
Bryson scowled and dropped the folded sheet on top of the bed. He limped to the window and quietly eased it up. Rather than risk the noise of loosening the screen’s frame and dropping it outside, he used the scissors to cut an opening. He motioned for her to stand in front of the window.
