25

 

Nila locked the door behind Will and looked around. Why did it feel so empty? Her mouth twisted, and she shook her head. “Girl, you’ve got it bad.”

At least they’d talked, and he’d seemed to understand.

She pursed her lips. Even though she’d admitted she was falling in love with him, he hadn’t said it back. Maybe there was a reason for that. She sank onto the couch. Had she made a fool of herself?

She replayed all the things he’d said. He wanted to court her. That meant he loved her, didn’t it?

Her mouth relaxed into a small smile. “Court” was such an old-fashioned word. She imagined herself in a Victorian gown and broad-brimmed hat. In her dream, she relaxed on a porch swing and sipped an iced tea.

Will wore a top hat and long coat as he presented her with an exquisite, fragrant bouquet of lilies and roses.

The lovely scene disappeared, replaced by a memory of other flowers. Brought by Nick. After he’d beaten her.

She pressed her palms to her face. What was Nick doing now? Was God still watching over her? She hoped so, with all her heart.

She opened a magazine and tried to read, but the words blurred on the page. Exhaustion swept over her. She leaned against the arm of the couch and closed her eyes. She drifted off.

She jolted awake. What was that? She rubbed her eyes and glanced at her watch. Too soon for Will to be back, but she’d heard something.

She went upstairs and checked on the children. Both were sleeping. Tommy had his thumb in his mouth, and Jessica’s chubby arms were wrapped around a stuffed bunny.

Nila’s heart ached, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Someday, she hoped. Someday she’d have a family of her own. She shut the bedroom door without a sound and went downstairs.

As she opened a kitchen cupboard to get a glass, she heard another sound. Closer. She whirled around and gasped. The tumbler fell from her hands and shattered into shards on the tile floor. A corner of her mind—the part that moved in slow motion—linked that shattered glass to her life.

“Hello, Nila. Did you really think I’d let you get away?” Nick leered at her from the back doorway.

Her throat closed. She couldn’t speak. She shot a quick, silent prayer heavenward. Her airway loosened, and she inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. “What are you doing here, Nick? What do you want?”

He took a step closer, and the kitchen light flashed on the knife in his hand. “I’m here to reclaim my property.” He raised the knife. “You belong to me, and if I can’t have you, no one will. No one ‘Will’.” He chortled, a soul-sickening sound. “Get it?”

She scooted to the opposite end of the kitchen island. “I’m not your property. And you’re not supposed to be anywhere near me.”

He laughed again. “My parole officer thinks I’m in La Ronge. What a bonehead.”

His expression darkened, and he leaned forward as he thumped the knife on the counter. “No one can tell me what to do. Not my PO, not your God. No one controls me. I’m claiming what’s owed me. And you, my dear, owe me big time.”

“Wh—what do you mean?” She glanced from Nick to the door. No, she couldn’t. Even if she could get out, there was no way she’d leave the children.

He took a soundless step closer, like a cat stalking a mouse. “What do I mean? You sent me to jail.” With each hissed word his voice rose. “I lost everything—my house, my truck, my job, my freedom. It’s. All. Your. Fault.”

“Be quiet.” Her voice carried steel. “Don’t you dare wake the children.”

“I’ll do whatever I want.”

His voice was quieter, but the wildness in his eyes strafed her nerves. She looked away.

Without warning he lunged.

She jumped back. A little too late. The tip of his blade sliced her forearm. She was shocked to see a line of blood appear. Dark red drops fell onto the floor. Nila grabbed a paper towel and pressed it against the incision.

“So you’re not made of stone.” He wiped the blade on his sleeve. “Good to know, since I’ve got plans for you.”

How could she have ever thought he loved her? She’d been so naive. Nila shuddered.

Where was El Roi?

She backed up again, but he followed step for step. An idea steadied her. She had to keep him talking. “What plans?”

His glittering gaze sent shivers through her. “It will be slow, sweetheart. I’m going to make you suffer. Like you made me. First you and then those brats upstairs. And when your boyfriend gets back from dealing with that dumb redhead, he’s going to be overcome with grief and kill himself.” His eyes glittered with evil intent. “Triple murder-suicide. It’ll make all the networks. But I’ll still be in La Ronge. Free and clear.”

Fear crept into her voice in spite of her efforts. “You won’t get away with this. You can’t!”

He laughed, and it was the cackle of a madman. “I don’t care. I’m never going back to prison.” He opened his arms wide. “So do your worst.”

A strange, warm peace filled her, and she lifted her chin. And prayed aloud. “Father God, You are here, and You see what Nick is doing. You know his plans. You alone are God. You are in control.”

He growled, lunged, and grabbed her by her sore arm. He twisted it behind her until she thought it would break. “You’re gonna pay for that.” He pushed her toward the stairs, his knife pricking her back. “Let’s go see those two brats. They need to learn not to play with knives, don’t they?”

Nila’s stomach heaved. She could hardly breathe. She tried to pull away, but his grip on her arm and the knife at her back restrained her. Her prayer for help was silent and urgent. They moved up five steps, then two more. From the depths of her memory a self-defence move surfaced. She faked a misstep on the stairs.

Nick’s grip lessened, and she swung her elbow back with all her strength. It connected with his nose. He yelped and released her arm. “You little…”

She whirled around and smacked him in the face with the heel of her hand.

He swore, thrust his knife, and slipped on the carpet.

Nila fell against the top step and watched in horror as Nick tumbled down the stairs.

His arms and legs flailed. His arm cracked against the wall.

The knife flew in an arc and dropped in front of the door.

He howled with each impact.

The sound bounced off the walls and ceiling and into Nila’s soul.

After what seemed like hours, Nick lay sprawled at the bottom of the stairs with his neck at an impossible angle. His body shuddered and went still.

Nila’s heart pounded in the sudden quiet. She strained to hear.

Jessica and Tommy couldn’t have slept through that, could they?

She had to check on them. She grabbed the railing, but dizziness hit hard. She looked down. Her blue sweater seemed to be turning red. She tugged at the hem and exposed a long gash near the bottom of her ribcage. She stared in disbelief. “Rats. That was my favorite sweater.” It ended on a whimper.

Then pain pulsed from her side and arm.

She watched, fascinated, as black spots danced and grew. She scooted against the wall, pressed her hand to her side, and prayed as darkness engulfed her.