In the days that followed the gruesome murder that had the entire seaside town on edge, the once tranquil atmosphere had shifted into rumbling gossip, fear, and general unease. The crime had taken the town by surprise and to add insult to their holiday-safe reputation, every fame-seeking reporter in Cornwall had come down in the hopes of scooping the story. But, as with these small seaside towns, the residents stood firm, protecting their territory like an animal during breeding season. They had formed small civil policing groups that took shifts guarding the two entrances into town, the shops in the village, and in and around the small residential neighborhood—a welcome relief to the understaffed police station who had their hands full with the investigation.
With the annual St. Ives art fair approaching, and all her usual help occupied with guarding their town, Jorja kept to herself. She worked tirelessly in the hopes of settling her own unease that seemed to tighten its grip on her heart with each day that passed. Grateful for the art fair to distract her, she buried her anxiety in the preparations, spending more than one night working late in her gallery. In a desperate effort to rid her body from the gut feeling that gnawed at the insides of her stomach, she told herself that she was imagining danger, that Myles Brentwood's death had nothing to do with her, and that she was safe.
Having pulled every resource available to them, the police were no closer to catching the perpetrator responsible for the evil deed. It was as if all leads died on the leafy forest floor, where Myles' body was found. Major Crimes had stepped in and taken over the investigation, leaving Ewan to run around like a puppy on a leash. He had texted her a few times to let her know that he would pop in to check on her as soon as he could, but it had been four days since they last saw or spoke to each other.
She glanced at her wristwatch. It was an hour before midnight. Outside her small gallery, the street was dark and deserted. She hadn't realized the time and resolved to head home, grateful the threatening weather had prompted her to come to work in her car that morning instead of by foot as she normally did. She closed the folder she had been poring over on the antique desk that stood in the rear of her shop, reached for her cup, and lifted it to gulp down the last few mouthfuls of now-cold tea. As she brought the lip of her teacup to her mouth the light from the nearby desk lamp reflected off the narrow gold band that ran around the inside rim of the cup, exposing a dark shadow directly behind her. She knew in that very instant she was not alone and spun around to see who it was but it was too late.
Her head was violently pulled back against someone's hard body, held in place by something around her neck. Black-gloved hands on either side of her head yanked back harder, restricting the airflow through her windpipe.
She gasped.
Gagged.
Fought for air.
As the last of the oxygen in her lungs ran out, her fingers scrabbled to loosen whatever was around her neck.
It couldn't.
In a final desperate attempt to have her attacker relax his grip to let the life back into her lungs, she reached back and snatched at the intruder's face. Her fingers searched for his eyes, the tips sensing rough stubble instead.
He pulled back harder.
She felt her head compress, her eyes bulging under the pressure.
Survival instincts kicked in.
Her legs extended, pushing into the parquet floor under her feet. Her body heaved back, knocking the Windsor chair over in the process. She pushed her legs down harder, drove her heels into the floor, and forced the attacker's weight to shift. The noose around her neck slackened, just enough to allow a little bit of air into her lungs and smell the alcohol on his breath.
Two of her fingers found their way in between her flesh and the rubbery wire around her neck. He regained his balance, pulling back on the wire again.
It sliced into the soft flesh of her fingers.
She fought hard not to faint. Nearly did so twice.
He groaned.
She fought back. But he was too strong. The energy slowly drained from her body and she could feel her life slowly slipping away.
Her feet left the floor, and her legs and body felt heavy, straining against the restraint blocking her airways.
She reached for the desk lamp with her free arm but it was too far away.
Her fingers searched blindly, snatching at anything that might aid her in her fight to survive.
It was futile.
She caught herself asking God to help her. She had never done that before for fear of God rejecting her, but it was all she had left.
A tear escaped down her cheek, made her feel vulnerable. She hated the feeling, hated herself for being afraid.
From somewhere behind there was a shuffle on the wooden floor, then another male voice. The wire around her neck relaxed and she drew an involuntary breath as she flopped to the floor, pulling the cord of the lamp with her. The lamp smashed and shattered into pieces on the floor next to her.
The room was plunged into near darkness. She gasped and blinked several times to force her eyes to regain focus in the dark room. Behind her, groans echoed through the small space then, what sounded like a chair breaking. She crawled across the floor, feeling the impact of someone falling onto the floor next to her leg. She flinched, her mind suddenly clear on what was happening.
As she flung her body around and pushed herself further away from the commotion, she regained all her senses. Her eyes traced the silhouettes of two men as they wrestled on the floor. One was entirely clothed in black, the other in a light gray suit. Ewan!
The intruder was on top of him, holding him down with one arm while the other drew back and drove a fist into Ewan's jaw.
She tried screaming for him to stop as she scrambled to her feet, but her throat had not fully recovered yet.
The sudden change in posture made her dizzy and she froze in place for a few seconds. Just enough to see her attacker deliver several more blows to Ewan's face. The man rose to his feet, stretching tall above her and watching him from behind, his height instantly revealed his similarity to the man who’d stood across the street. She watched as he pulled a wire from a strap around his left wrist, then bent forward to put it around Ewan's neck.
It was as if every reflex in her body jerked into action and her mind instantly recalled the tactics she’d thought had long since left her.
Her foot smashed into her assailant's back, causing him to tumble to the floor. He was quick to his feet immediately towering over her once more. Her hands were up in front of her face, palms stretched out and facing each other, prepared for his attack.
He thrust his fist forward. She ducked to the left. Once again he punched the air in front of her face, she ducked the other way, then thrust her flat hand into his chest. It rendered him off balance and gasping for air. Her body flexed, she pivoted, then extended one leg high above her waist, whipping her foot across his jaw.
The impact thrust him against the wall and he slumped to the floor.
Next to her, Ewan moaned and she turned to look. It was no more than a second. Something hard hit her legs, forcing her to her knees. Before she knew it, the man's arm had her in a chokehold. He was strong, stronger than before. Propelled by hatred, intentionally wanting to bring her harm. Kill her.
Ewan coughed and tried to get up. His mouth was covered in blood, so was his right eye. He looked up and spotted Jorja in trouble. His body was weak, too weak to get up.
His eyes locked with Jorja's. Fear lay deep in both their eyes. He reached for his gun. His holster was empty. He looked back; saw the smugness in the attacker's eyes. Moments later he stared down the barrel of his own gun.
It was as if time had stood still in the moments that ensued. Still immobilized by the man's grip around her neck, Jorja saw the intruder's other arm extend past the side of her face. As it did so, his sleeve brushed against her cheek before he pointed the gun at Ewan. Fear made way for anger and she let go of the elbow she had tried to pull away from her neck. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, twisting his arm, and twisting her body along with it, until the gunman's arm was contorted upside down.
The strain on his armpit made him cry out in pain. Several oaths escaped from his mouth, then, out of nowhere, his bald head slammed hard against her forehead leaving her breathless as she stumbled a few paces back on her feet.
He turned the gun on her, pointing it directly at her face. She watched his index finger tighten around the trigger, expecting the bullet to banish her to hell, accepting that she probably deserved it.
Then suddenly Ewan's face came into view, his body wedged between her and the gun.
The gun went off.
Ewan's full weight was on top of her and she found herself pinned between him and the floor, moments before darkness blotted out all light and sound around them.