Vivian spun around, her eyes fixed on the man standing between her and the door.
TWENTY-EIGHT
He wavered a little as he stepped toward her. The reek of cheap gin filled her nose, and he stumbled, unsteady on his feet, but his narrow-eyed gaze didn’t waver. Vivian gulped, then tried to smile, wondering if she could distract him long enough to do… something. Anything.
Mrs. Thomas’s contempt made horrible sense now. There hadn’t been a man asking about her. There had been one waiting for her to get home. She remembered the sound of the door quietly opening and closing behind her when she went to the washroom. He had snuck in while she was lighting the lamp.
Her eyes locked on her key dangling from Roy’s hand, her purse at his feet. She wondered if he knew she had a sister sleeping in the next room, or if he would leave once he had dealt with her. She wanted to put the table between them, but a drunk man was like an angry dog. It wasn’t smart to make any sudden moves.
“Hey there, Roy,” she said, her voice so hoarse she could barely get the words out. “Fancy running into you again so soon.”
Roy paused just a few steps away from her and laughed. For a moment Vivian felt her shoulders relax. Yes, he had locked them in the room together, but if she screamed for help, some neighbor would wake up and batter down the door. Maybe she could handle him this time. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.
Then he took a step forward and smiled, the expression twisted and triumphant. Whatever hesitation or insecurities he had felt back in Honor’s study were gone, pickled in gin and replaced with ugly fury. Vivian was sharply aware of the extra foot of height and God alone knew how many pounds of weight that he had on her. “What do you know?” he asked. “Saw me and Hattie together, talkin’ about Willard and a baby… Think you should tell me just what you mean by all that.”
The words slurred together, and Vivian frowned as she figured out what he had asked. That moment was all it took for him to snap. His face darkened with anger. “Tell me what youknow,” he yelled, lunging at her.
Vivian stumbled backward, trying to get away, but her stockinged foot caught on one of the chairs. She tripped just as he grabbed her. Her fall dragged them both down, the crash echoing through the silent room.
Her head hit the ground with a sharp crack. A wave of nausea rolled through her belly. All she could see was a burst of painful light. His weight pinned her down, driving the breath from her lungs before she could scream for help.
Before her vision could clear, before she could pull any air into her shocked lungs, she felt his hands close around her throat.
“Tell me what you know!” The slurred demand beat against her ears.
She scrabbled at his wrists with her nails, trying to drag them away, gasping for air. She kicked out as best she could. He cursed loudly, and the pressure around her throat eased. She nearly sobbed in relief.
A moment later, all the air rushed out of her in a hoarse scream as hedragged her upright, the force of it pulling her feet from the ground. One hand tightened around her throat. She could feel the other twisting in the front of her dress, heard the fragile fabric rip as he shoved her back down on top of the table.
She would have screamed again, but the breath was gone from her body once more. Both of his hands were back around her throat, his words a drunken jumble she couldn’t have understood if he hadn’t been repeating himself over and over.
“What did you mean, huh? You leave her alone, you hear me? Tell me what youknow.”
Vivian clawed at his face, trying to reach his eyes. He screamed in pain. But the pressure from his hands didn’t let up. Bright darkness was starting to sparkle around the edges of her vision. She heard yelling from outside her door, someone hammering on it and calling out, but it sounded a long way away.
“What do you know? Tell me what youknow. Tell me—”
The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the tiny room.
The hands around Vivian’s throat spasmed, then fell away as Roy stumbled backward, his eyes wide with confusion. He and Vivian stared at the dark stain spreading across one of his shoulders, both of them suddenly, painfully silent. Their eyes met. He stumbled forward, one hand reaching out as if begging for help.
A second gunshot burst through the air, and this time Vivian screamed. She saw him stagger back from the force of it, saw the ruin it made of his chest. His mouth worked silently for a moment before his eyes went blank. He slumped to the ground, as if someone had cut the strings that held him upright.
For a moment, Vivian was too stunned to move. Her throat spasmed gratefully as she sucked in huge gulps of air. She slid off the edge of the table and used it to haul herself upright.
She knew what she would see when she turned around. But that didn’t make the sight of Florence, the hand that held the gun still raised as if she had forgotten how to move, any easier to bear.
“Oh God, Flo,” Vivian breathed, barely able to force the words out of her bruised throat.
“Vivi,” Florence whispered, her face frozen in horror. “What are we going to do?”
TWENTY-NINE
There wasn’t time for them to think before the door burst open, forced off its hinges by the full weight of a neighbor’s body slamming against it.
Her head still spinning from hitting the floor and the table, her breath coming in sharp, coughing gasps, Vivian couldn’t keep up with what was happening. There were too many people all of a sudden, too many faces peering through the door. Someone was trying to get past her to reach Florence. Vivian stumbled to her feet and shoved them aside, placing her body protectively in front of her sister.
“Dammit, girl, I’m trying to help!” Mrs. Thomas’s sharp voice broke through the haze. “I just need her to put the gun down—”
