So I started following William and his darlings. I had to quit my job to do it and find another one closer to his house, and all my disposable income, such as it was, went to keeping on his tail. But I couldn’t stand the thought he’d treat other women the way he’d treated me, except so, so much worse. Plus I had a debt to pay, to Becky. I’d had such a narrow escape. The only reason I was alive was that I’d said, in William’s bedroom, that I was writing a thriller when he wanted a romance. Like Becky was writing. Otherwise I’d be dead too.
If the cops wouldn’t listen to me, I figured, maybe William’s targets would.
Nope. So much for the literary sisterhood. Not one of these chicks had heard of hos before bros. It was partly because William was culling the most isolated women from the herd so there’d be fewer family members or friends to get suspicious, and that meant they clung to him all the harder. I got it, of course. If I hadn’t known better, if I hadn’t known William Corwyn and he’d descended the mountain into my loneliness and saidYou don’t have to be alone anymore, my darling, I’m here!I’d have done anything to stay in the dream too.
Plus nobody believes a woman who looks like me.
Get away from me, you crazy bitch, was what the Medusa woman said. AndGet your own manandFuck off, andStop bothering me, I called the cops—that was the sad droopy one, Kaelynn, who then surprised me by flipping me the bird before she scurried away. The Irish woman had some fire, she tried to run me over with her car. Medusa also threw a drink on me and the pirate woman kickboxed me in the stomach. And I didn’t even get a chance to warn this last one with all the cats because I was too distracted by Sam Vetiver.
Fail fail fail fail fail, and every time I failed another woman died, and if I had broken the promise to myself, which was I’LL NEVER LET HIM HURT ANOTHER WOMAN THE WAY HE HURT ME, I’d also made a vow afterfinding out about poor dead Becky that I’d never let William hurt anyone even worse, steal their stories and take their lives.
The ultimate appropriation.
And I’ve already broken that promise four f*cking times.
Not this time. Sam Vetiver is in the study and William’s coming and he won’t even have to use his gun, which is empty because like so much else about William it’s just for show, but none of the women ever suspected that. Why would you? Somebody holds a gun on you, you don’t sayHey, sir, would you mind proving that’s loaded?They just did what he told them to, each woman wrote her suicide note before he fed her pills, like Marta and Becky, or locked her in a running car, like Eleni, or pushed her off a roof, like Kaelynn, or gave her pillsandslit her wrists, like Cyndi. But it’ll be much easier with Sam Vetiver because all he’ll have to do is knock her out and haul her out into the snow, and her death will look natural. Like, maybe, Pen’s.
I’m so scared. I’m shaking all over. My muscles have completely vapor-locked. I can’t move. But if I don’t stop him, he’ll kill Sam just like he did the rest. I can’t let that happen. I’ve worked all these years for this moment. I made a vow. So I count myself down: “Three... two...” and onone!I launch myself across the basement floor.
Chapter 38
Into the Storm
In addition to fight or flight, Sam’s therapist had once told her, there was a third option: freeze.
Which was what she seemed to be doing now. She was backed up against William’s desk, hyperventilating, listening to William come down the basement steps saying “I’ve exercised heroic restraint, Simone, but since you obviously can’t stop yourself from defying me, I’ll have to do it for you,” staring through the dark at the study door, waiting for it to swing further inward—
!!!!GO!!!!
Sam didn’t know whether the voice was hers or all the dead writers, but she ripped her hands off the desk with such force she was surprised there was no Velcro sound. She dove for the door—not the one to the basement but the one to the bulkhead. The door to outside.
She yanked it open. She’d done a polar bear plunge one New Year’s Day when she was with Hank. He sat on the lake shore in his parka, cheering,You got this, Ms. Vetiver! Report back!Sam was unable to report back. The shock of the cold had rendered her unable to breathe.
This was going to be like that. Except there was no Hank waiting with a towel and a thermos of coffee. This was going to hurt.
But whatever William had planned for her would hurt more. Sam had no doubt of that.
Even on the covered steps leading up to the yard, the cold was an assault. Sam cinched her sweatshirt hood tight and pulled the sleeves down over her hands. Thank God she’d slept in all her clothes, even if she had no hat or gloves. William’s big boots were next to the door, and Sam thrust her feet into them, gasping. They were full of snow and eight sizes too large, like clown shoes. Sam flopped up the stairs as fast as she could.
The instant she reached the top, the wind scoured her face. It was like being sandblasted. The snow was not flakes at all but millions of grains of ice. Sam’s exposed skin burned, then went numb. She instinctively screwed her eyes shut, then opened them and cried out in pain. The snow scraped her lids, her cheeks. The gale sounded like walking into the world’s biggest blender, with gusts that punched her and made her stagger. She extended her arms and shuffled forward blindly, not sure where she was going. The physical onslaught made it hard to think.
But it was preferable to dying in the house. Sam was a baby about pain. She had to take Valium just for a tooth cleaning. William had so many weapons in there: knives, fireplace poker, awls, mallets, his axe.That axe!There was nothing more terrifying than a sharp blade, no negotiating with it. Freezing to death, in contrast, was supposed to be pleasant. Like going to sleep. The body just shut down—
Okay, Sam.Nobody’s going to die here. Okay? Just find shelter. Hide. Sam turtled her chin and kept staggering forward, palms out, like Frankenstein. She couldn’t go to her car, even if she had any idea where it was. It was the first place William would look for her, and he was probably much better prepared than Sam was for these conditions. Equipment. Ski goggles. For all she knew he had an infrared scope. Orion the mighty hunter.All the better to track you with, my dear.Sam could see or hear nothing behind her in the roar and scream of wind. But if he found her, she’d fight. She’d make it hard for him. And then she’d hope he’d make it quick.
But first she’d try to save herself. And that meant heading for cover.
The woods! Could she walk across the lake? Where even was the lake? Sam cracked her eyes a slit and saw nothing but white. She literally could be upside-down and she wouldn’t know. There was no darker stripe where the forest might be. Still, she kept moving, not lifting her feet but shoving them along in William’s boots as if she were on her cross-country skis. As William had taught her to do. If she got to the trees, she might have a chance. She might be able to see a little better. Could bundle some boughs. Crawl beneath them. Try to stay warm. Try to wait it out. Unless, of course, she wandered in the wrong direction, farther out onto the ice, and died of exposure. At least she’d probably freeze, not drown or be cut—
Her right foot slammed into something and she lurched forward. Yelped in surprise.
She slid her left foot.Thud. Something solid. She flailed her hands. Felt the object press against her knees, her thighs and belly. A structure—she’d walked into something waist-high. The tailgate of her Jeep? The hot tub?
Jesus, that meant she’d gone only a few feet from the house. The hot tub was next to the deck. Near the basement door. Sam had been walking in circles the whole time. What if William was right behind her, lifting the axe—
He’ll probably chop you up in little pieces and make you into soup in his hot tub.
The hot tub!
