Erika had been up for hours, and it wasn’t because of the baby. Little Robin Young had finally shut his yapper some time ago, and although she’d tried a multitude of solutions—digging into the bag for a rattling toy—it’d ultimately come down to being all screamed out. And in spite of the leaking mess, Erika was just glad she didn’t change its diaper.
Finally, Robin fell asleep on the couch. Erika did not. She was still haunted by the snapping sound from the woods. Sure, it could’ve been an animal, but she wasn’t stupid and she knew that cops could kick down her door at any minute. Not just cops either, but that bastard PI and Mason Black, who—if her many months of research was anything to go by—would never let something like this go.
When you’re done, take a trip to San Francisco, the inside voice said.
“No. Well… maybe.”
Why fight it? We both know you will.
“Because—”
Go. Kill. If you can’t have Mason, then nobody can.
Erika climbed to her feet and yawned. She glanced at the clock: just after eleven. It felt like she’d been awake for days. She was exhausted, but that’d been expected for the most part.
Wary, she went to the window and peered out. The woods hadn’t changed in recent hours. The wind howled and the mist still crawled above the ground like an army of ghosts, each merging together and then splitting to maneuver around the tree trunks. It might’ve been cozy if she had someone to share the cabin with, but given the circumstances it was only eerie.
Make a plan, the voice came again.
“No.”
Make a plan!
“Why?”
You know why.
Yes, she supposed she did. The clock was ticking, and whether or not anyone came for her, she had to at least be prepared for it. There was a revolver in her purse that would do just fine, and if she dragged the armchair across the room, she could probably watch both doors. Was that careful enough, she wondered? It was as good a defense as any, because the way she saw it, anyone coming for her would have her cornered without a shadow of a doubt.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t go out swinging.
Gun, the voice said.
“Okay.” Erika snatched her purse off the side and produced the revolver.
Load it.
Erika did as she was told, but was she really in control?
Now get comfortable…
“… because it’s going to be a long night.” A wide grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she stepped toward the baby. She no longer cared if she woke it—the option to kill the damn thing was still there.