Chapter Twenty-four
Bree
The rest of her afternoon was a haze of whatever Eric thought would take her mind off her dad’s party. The gelato stop on Corydon worked for a while, as did the stroll through Assiniboine Park, but her mind only truly went blank when they got back to his bedroom. Bree fell asleep feeling peaceful.
Her good mood evaporated when she returned to real life the next morning. Taylor was absolutely inconsolable at having to go to school for the afternoon. She scratched Bree’s arms when she lifted her out of her car seat, screaming like she was being murdered. Then she saw Miss Jacobs, her teacher, and her struggles died instantly.
Then it was back to the house to load Allison into the car. Her friend was slightly better than her daughter, but Allie was not happy aboutherdestination either. She was right to want to avoid the hospital. She had a very bad trip. Allison suffered a reaction to her chemotherapy drugs right in the treatment room, minutes after they set up the IV. Bree could handle the vomit; she was a rock-star when it came to cleaning up puke. It was the blood erupting from Allie’s nose and mouth when she coughed up what had drained down the back of her throat, that made Bree hit her knees for a sympathy hurl.
After Allison was fully checked out, tested, and released, she decided she was hungry. For more ice cream. She needed to feed her soul more than her stomach. If Bree had found out she might have to give up chemo since it was killing her faster than her brain tumour, she’d would want ice cream too. Not a simple milkshake either. A super sundae with chocolate fudge and peanuts and whipped cream and three freaking cherries on top. Then she’d get serious.
Bree had her first stroke of luck when she pulled into the empty parking lot. “We can walk right up to order. Okay, you can limp up,” Allison said. “How are your knees?”
“Bruised,” Bree replied.
A large tan sedan pulled into the parking lot. It made a production of doing a seven-point turn until it was facing the street again. The dirty-blond driver parked a few feet behind them, effectively blocking them in. The tall, thickset man wore a leather jacket, not unusual for Winnipeg in May, since the weather could turn on a dime. Bree thought he might have the right idea as she spotted a bank of blue-black clouds rolling in. The sunglasses were a bit much though.
Bree would have been annoyed if she and Allison weren’t planning to stay and eat in the car. “Allie, did you want peanuts on yours?” Bree called from the counter.
“No. Too scratchy. Can I have marshmallow sauce instead of whipped cream?”
The cashier stuck the spoons deep into the mounds of soft-serve so they wouldn’t fall out on Bree’s trip back to the car. It wasn’t far, but the gravel that had accumulated over the winter still needed a strong storm to wash it away.
Bree didn’t make it far.
Leather Jacket stepped in front of her. She moved to the side, and so did he: the get-out-of-my-way shuffle. He was half a second later the next time.
Bree blinked.
He was doing it on purpose.
“Excuse me.” Her hands were cold and her sundaes were starting to melt.
“I know who you are,” Leather Jacket rasped.
“What?”
“I know who you are. I know who you’ve fucked.”
“Excuse me?” If she could back up three steps, she could go around the front of the car and pass Allie her sundae across the driver’s seat instead of through the window.
“Fucking a cop is bad enough, but then Forrester came along, and you couldn’t keep your legs together.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he ranted about her sex life according to his fantasies. His attention darted from Bree’s hair to her bust, to the car, to the student working on the other side of the counter.
“Allie, lock your door and roll up the window,” Bree said. She chanced a glance through the windshield and saw her friend also had her cellphone in hand. Yes, 911 was an appropriate response.
Leather Jacket advanced again.
Bree had had enough. She threw Allison’s sundae at him before she spun to sprint for the unlocked door on the other side of her car. Blood thundered in her ears as her body jumped frommmm, ice-creamtoStranger Dangerin a split second.
She’d waited too long.
Leather Jacket caught the end of her pony tail and yanked hard enough to pull her off her feet. Her sundae went straight up, and her eyes were watering too hard to see where it would come down. He brought his hand out of the pocket of his olive cargo pants. It gripped a knife which was long as her forearm.
Bree jerked to the side. The blade caught her arm. For the most part, the thick, wool knit of her sweater coat blunted the swing. But a second later she felt the burn of air hitting a freshly opened cut.
Leather Jacket swung at her again. This time his fist connected with her temple.
“Let her go!” The voice was far away. Bree knew who that was.
“Allie, no!”
He punched her again. Her legs stopped working. Bree knew she was being dragged across the parking lot but her limbs weren’t listening to the messages her brain was sending, likehit him backorkick. Her arms bent behind her, and she fell forward. Her knees rammed against the passenger seat floorboards, and something fell on top of her. Then the pain in her head exploded one more time before all her cuts and aches stopped hurting.
