A shadow stepped between me and the light of the TV.
I woke, blinking, in time to see blonde hair, teeth bared in a grimace before Bethany Byrd clocked me with something hard and shut down my lights.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lindsey
“You bitch!”
I pushed away from my desk, dropped my shoulder and rolled out of my chair. Bethany’s swipe at my head with a metal object in her fist missed me by millimeters. On the floor, on my back, I looked up. “Stop it, Bethany.”
“No way,” she hissed between her teeth. “You murdered Frank.”
“He tried to kill me! He shot me, then himself, you stupid twat.”
I slowly rose to my feet as Bethany reversed the gun, pointing the business end at my face. The question of what she’d done to get past Brody flickered through my mind, then I pushed the worry away.She couldn’t have shot him.If I didn’t do something to stop this asinine idiot, we’re both dead.
“You pulled the trigger,” she screamed, her brown eyes narrowed with hate and madness. “You murdered him.”
Keep her talking.“How stupid is that?” I snarled. “You know he abused me, then shot me. Murder-suicide, even the cops knew what he’d done.”
“You lied to the cops,” she gritted, pacing slowly around me, circling. “You lied to me. Frank loved you.”
I stepped back, reaching behind me for the stack of boxes as though needing the support. Bethany’s eyes didn’t flicker toward my hands, only stared into mine. I gripped a coffee mug I’d set there earlier and forgot about, then bared my teeth in a fierce grimace of defiance.
“What did you say?”
“Frank lo –”
Like a pitcher at Yankee Stadium, I threw the mug in a powerful overhand throw. It bounced off her left cheek. Her finger pulled the trigger. The bullet plowed into the wall behind me inches to my right. Bethany staggered backward, falling to her ass. The gun went off again.
Now or never.
I leaped past her, out of the room and to Brody. Frantic, my heart thudding in my chest, I felt for a pulse at his throat even as Bethany shrieked in rage and pain from within the office. I found it, saw the lump on his brow, the bruising and fresh swelling.Out cold but alive. She didn’t kill him.
“Catch me if you can, bitch,” I screamed, laughing, then bolted for the front door.
I heard her yells as I fumbled for the lock, twisted it, turned the knob. Terrified she’d shoot me in the head, I lunged through the door. Ducking my shoulders, I ran down the walk and to the street. She fired, but the bullet pinged off the asphalt several feet to my right.Cool, get the cops here. Annoy the neighbors.
At this hour, few lights were on. Still, as Bethany shot at me again, lights appeared in windows all over the street. I ran fast, shielded by the night, the darkness, listening to her screech in rage, the pounding of her sneakers behind me. The hardesttarget to hit was one that moved, and I made damn sure to never let her catch a firm sight of me.
“I’ll kill you!”
For answer, I laughed and shouted over my shoulder, “C’mon, bitch, move your fat ass.”
The park lay straight ahead. A few lights cast some illumination over the grass, the swing sets, the walking/running trail. I saw no one out for late night exercise, helping me to believe no one else would get hurt this evening. Only Bethany.
I’ll have my revenge.
Reaching a pool of light under a tall lamp, I halted, spinning to face her. I curled my lip in a snarl as she, too, slowed, aiming her gun at my face.
“You’ll wish you’d have left me alone, bitch,” I said.
“You’ll be too dead to see it.”
Her eyes narrowed. Her finger flexed on the trigger. I heard the creak of her joint in the utter stillness.
I shifted.
