Page 132 of Forever Gone

The flashlight revealed unfinished walls and wooden steps descending into a cellar. Blood streaked the third and fourth treads. At the bottom, a woman lay curled on the concrete floor beneath the beam.

Short blond hair.

Black blouse.

Deb Mosley.

Her clothes were dark with blood near the shoulder and side. One leg bent beneath her, and her left arm stretched toward a toppled chair.

“Deb.”

Behind Selena, bedding shifted inside the linen cupboard. Carol came out low and fast.

She started to turn.

Both palms struck between her shoulder blades.

Selena pitched forward.

The flashlight flew from her left hand and struck the wall. Her weapon slipped from the other, hitting a step before bouncing into the cellar.

Selena caught the railing with her left hand.

Her weight wrenched the arm backward.

The wrist snapped.

Pain exploded from her fingers to her elbow. Her grip vanished, and she tumbled down the remaining steps.

One knee struck wood. Selena felt something snap inside of it. The side of her head hit an edge hard enough to burst white across her vision. She rolled over the final tread and landed on the concrete beside Deb.

For several seconds, Selena could not breathe. The pain from her knee was unbearable.

Sound withdrew into a distant hum. The flashlight lay halfway down the staircase, its beam angled across the cellar wall. A copper pipe ran above stacked boxes. Shelves held jars, cleaning products, and old paint cans. Beside the stairs, the electrical panel stood open with the main switch pulled down. Carol had killed the power deliberately.

Pain returned all at once.

Her left wrist lay beneath her chest. When she tried to pull it free, the joint moved where it should not.

Selena bit down on a cry.

Warm blood ran from her hairline into one eyebrow. Her ribs protested when she rolled onto her side.

Deb remained less than two feet away.

The woman’s shoulder rose.

Alive.

A cut ran from beneath Deb’s collar toward the top of her arm. Another wound darkened the fabric along her side. Neither showed the heavy pulsing Selena would have expected from a major artery, but too much blood had already spread beneath her.

“Deb,” Selena said.

Deb’s eyelids moved without opening. A wet breath caught in her throat.

Selena pushed herself upright with her right palm. Her weapon lay beyond Deb, close to a workbench. The muzzle pointed toward the wall. Three feet separated Selena’s fingertips from the grip.

A shoe appeared on the top step.