HANDS shoved in the front pockets of his jeans, Dax entered the church in search of Holly. Life had defeated him, but he couldn’t let it, or him, destroy Holly. Not seeing her in the fellowship hall, he headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t there either.
Shannon washed dishes alone.
“Shannon, have you seen Holly?”
“Not for a while.” Holly’s twin frowned. “I thought she went looking for you.”
“She did, and she found me.” I wish she hadn’t. “We got into a fight.” He stared at the floor, unable to meet her gaze.
“She didn’t come back here.”
“Okay. I’ll check the house. She must’ve gone there.” Should’ve thought to ask the guy who’d given him a lift back to town to take him by the house first. He could’ve walked to the church from there. Oh, well. At least he didn’t have far to go.
A couple of blocks from the house, unease filled him. Puzzled, he picked up the pace a bit. Urgency grew. Chill, dude. You two had an argument. It’s not like she’s going to skip town or something. Take it easy. The tightness in his gut remained and steadily increased. As he jogged around the corner onto Shannon’s street, a rusted red pick-up with a bad muffler passed.
The driver gave him an outright hateful look.
Dax readily placed the face. Lyle Wells. The man turned away from the center of town, leaving the area worst hit by the previous night’s storm.
A shiver worked up Dax’s spine. He ran the rest of the way to Shannon’s house. The front door gaped wide. He slowed to a walk as he mounted the steps and carefully entered the home, clearing each of the main rooms before proceeding to the hallway and its adjoining rooms. The door to the guestroom stood open.
He stopped in the doorway, horrified. The nightstand lay on its side, the items from its top scattered on the floor. The bed was heavily mussed, the top blanket pulled mostly onto the floor. It hadn’t been so tossed that morning. Horror grew at the sight of blood dotting the carpet. At least, he assumed it was blood. He restrained his first inclination to enter the room. He couldn’t interfere with a crime scene.
One certainty took hold.
Lyle Wells had Holly.
Dax left the house, running full speed back the way he’d come. His legs were already tired from his long run earlier, but he ignored their protests and forced them forward at a faster clip. He sought the police chief before he’d even reached the church.
~~~
Holly slowly came to, body aching and head pounding like a car with the radio blaring on full bass. As reason and awareness returned, she tried to remember what had happened. Why did she hurt so bad?
It all came back to her in a harsh rush.
She’d opened the bedroom door, expecting to give Dax a good dressing down, only to be confronted by Lyle, who’d rapidly closed in while she recovered from the shock. She’d fought with all her strength, but it wasn’t enough. He’d been too strong. She remembered pushing away from him, trying to free herself and falling. Then only darkness.
Her shoulder screamed as she twisted to look around. Her wrists were tied behind her back in an awkward fashion her shoulder didn’t appreciate. Her ankles, too, were bound. She stilled, waiting for pain to recede so she could breathe and think clearly.
Holly slowly, carefully looked around. The furnishings consisted of only the bed she lay on, which was nothing more than an old mattress thrown on the floor. Springs jabbed her. Heavy black bars on the single window in the far wall ruled out that avenue of possible escape. Only one door. Paint that at one time may have been white looked grayish-yellow and peeled away from the wooden surface of both the door and the window trim. Pale greenish walls also needed repainting. A large patch of black mold reached from the window sill to the floor. Two large water stains marred the ceiling.
Heavy footfalls grew louder.
She closed her eyes, pretending unconsciousness.
The doorknob cranked, and the door opened with a grinding screech that made her want to cringe.
She forced herself to remain still, eyes closed. Keeping her breathing regular and low proved more difficult, particularly when she felt him lean over her. Holly prayed he didn’t notice her rapidly pounding pulse. If she couldn’t fight him when free, she had no prayer while bound.
Hot, rancid breath on her face and neck, and one of his hands coming to rest on her midriff, made her nauseous. He’d been drinking, and everything inside her wanted to curl up in a hole beyond his reach.
After a few moments, his presence withdrew. Footsteps moved away. The door closed with a shriek of protest. Footsteps disappeared into another part of the building.
She opened her eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths and listening for indications of movement outside the room.
A few minutes later, footfalls again came closer.
Holly snapped her eyes shut and waited.
That time, they passed the room where she lay. Another door opened then closed. In seconds, a vehicle engine turned over. The crunch of tires on gravel and the vehicle’s rough-running engine faded into the distance.
Had he left her alone?
Fully expecting her shoulder to protest, and bracing herself for the pain, Holly shifted to pass her bound arms around her feet. Once they were in front of her instead of behind, she took a few moments to let the searing pain recede so she could breathe again. Then she set to work with her teeth to untie the rope around her wrists. Her shoulder didn’t like that either, but it couldn’t be helped. She had to get free.
As soon as the rope fell from her wrists, she worked on the one around her ankles. She flexed her appendages to restore circulation.
Holly got to her feet when she was sure she could stand. Pain in her head intensified, and dizziness threatened. She froze to give herself time to re-orient then made her way to the door, pulling it open and shuddering at its grating shriek.
The first room, most probably the living room, was devoid of furniture and had the same sickly pale green color on the walls as the room she’d awakened in. Worn hardwood floors squawked and popped under foot. To her left was a window and a door. The window had bars like those in the other room.
Holly grabbed the front doorknob. It turned readily in her hand, but the door didn’t budge. Dead-bolted, requiring a key from both sides. Panic clouded an already pain-fogged mind. She had to find a way out.
She went room to room, with no idea how long Lyle would be gone. Must get out before he returns. Black bars guarded every window. The only other door, which she found in the kitchen, was locked with the same kind of deadbolt as the front door. A second bedroom had only two barred windows. The only furniture in the entire house was the bed on which she’d awakened.
Trapped like a rat in a cage. Panic rose higher. Her breaths were increasingly shallow and rapid. Holly’s head swam.
She stopped in the middle of the kitchen floor. Focus! Hyperventilating and letting panic take over won’t help. Calm down so you can think.
A weapon. Find something to use as a weapon. She yanked open cabinets and drawers one by one. There had to be something somewhere. Nothing. She stilled, wanting to sob.
Wait. There was something she could do. One thing she should’ve done all along. Lord, help me! I know I don’t have to tell you I’m positively terrified. Lyle is a man of violence and hate. Show me what to do. Please, Lord!
A faint sound reached her ears.
Holly froze. Had Lyle returned?
No. The soft thrum came from within the room.
Listening, she tried to find the source. Beneath a floorboard.
It stopped.
She fiddled with the boards of the floor and found one loose. A sharp tug pulled it free to reveal a hole under the floor. It was only big enough to get her hand and arm into. And dark. She hesitated. What if that sound had been a rat or snake?
It started again. Vibration, not a creature running around.
She reached into the hole and felt around until her hand closed around the still-vibrating object. It stopped just as her fingers closed on it. She withdrew it and opened her fingers. Her cellphone. Somehow the ringer had been switched to vibrate. She could only guess Lyle had taken and hidden it, thinking she wouldn’t find it under the floor. She slapped the board back in place.
Thank you, Lord.
She flipped it open, found the number Dax had programmed in, and hit SEND. “Please, pick up. Please, pick up.”
The phone kept ringing.
A distant rumble increased in volume. Her heart sank. She ran to the front window.
Lyle had returned.
“Holly?” Dax’s voice had never been so welcome or so sweet.
“Dax, help me.” She looked around for a place to hide, but other than cabinets in the kitchen, which Lyle was sure to check, she found nothing.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know. An abandoned house. I’m locked in. There are trees and fields all around. I can’t see anything else to get a sense of location.” A vehicle door slammed. “Lyle’s coming back. I have to go. He can’t know I have my phone. Please, help me.”
A key grated in the front door lock.
Holly slapped the phone closed and jammed it into her pocket. She shrank against the wall inside the doorway from the living room, seeing a gun in Lyle’s hand as he headed for the bedroom she’d vacated. He intended to kill her.
Dax wouldn’t find her in time.
A harsh curse ripped through the empty house. Thundering footsteps echoed and tromped toward the kitchen.
Not knowing what else to do, she braced herself to hit him when he crossed the threshold. If she could get the gun…. I should’ve paid more attention in that self-defense class one of the officers in Maricopa County gave three years ago. If I failed…. Lord, give me strength and good aim.
The moment Lyle’s head was visible, Holly swung at him with all of her strength. She caught him off-guard, her fist slamming into his nose just as he noticed the movement out of the corner of his eye and turned. She brought her knee up as hard as she could, barely missing his groin as he shifted his weight.
The gun clattered to the floor.
Holly dived for it before Lyle could recover, sliding across the floor as she grabbed it. She quickly turned as Lyle headed for her, nose bleeding, eyes enraged. When she brought the muzzle of the pistol level with his chest, he froze, breathing heavily. She climbed to her feet, making sure her aim remained true. Her shoulder screamed.
“Back off, Lyle, or so help me….” She steeled herself to be as stern as possible.
He didn’t, but neither did he move closer.
She backed up a step to increase the distance between them. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you belong to me. You always have.”
“I never belonged to you. Ever! Nothing you say or do will change that.”
A new jolt of fear shot through her. She held a gun on another human being. She recalled the broken grief in Dax’s eyes after he’d killed the drug runner. Her aim wavered. If shooting a criminal he didn’t know had hit Dax so hard, how would she feel shooting someone she knew? Her half-brother, no less.
“You won’t shoot,” Lyle suddenly said with great confidence.
She raised the gun back to level with his chest. Had he read doubt in her expression? Pressure rolled across the top of her skull. Had she fractured it when she hit the nightstand? What if she went down with a head injury? She’d be totally at Lyle’s mercy.
The gun stabilized in her grip.
He took a step closer with an evil half-grin.
“I’m warning you, Lyle! I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to.”
He paused to study her for a moment. His grin grew, and he moved closer still. “No, you won’t. You don’t have any killer instinct. If you did, you’da shot me already.”
Was he right? Could she actually do it, or was she lying to herself?
Before she could decide, Lyle lunged and grabbed for the gun.
Holly screamed and tried to keep her hand on it, preventing him from reclaiming ownership.
A shot rang out, and she froze.
Lyle yelled and backhanded her across the face, causing her to lose her grip on the weapon and sprawl on the floor.
Holly climbed to her feet as quickly as possible, though she wasn’t sure why. She had nowhere to run, and he had a gun and the key to the outer doors. Lyle didn’t even need to be close enough to touch her to kill her.
Hope dwindled. She wasn’t getting away. God had allowed her father to hurt her so many times. Now He would stand by and let Lyle do even worse. Had she really been so foolish in her faith?
Lord, I thought You loved me. I thought You cared. Why have You abandoned me again? Did I do something to deserve this?
“…if we ask him to interfere with someone’s free will to stop them from hurting us, are we going to also ask that He take away our free will and prevent us from hurting others?”
Dax. He’d had every right to keep things to himself. He hadn’t forced her to reveal anything about herself. She’d told him because she’d chosen to. If he didn’t love or trust her the way Holly loved and trusted him, that wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t force Dax to love her, any more than she could force her father to. Any more than Lyle could force her to love him.
Lord, please let me know that You haven’t abandoned me, too. Please! If this is the end, make it quick. Don’t let me hurt anymore. Please, I just need to know You love me even if no one else does.
Holly backed away as Lyle advanced. The bathroom lay behind her. She could lock herself inside, but it wouldn’t do much good. Lyle could, and probably would, just shoot the lock off the door or kick the old thing in.
“There’s nowhere to run.” The evil look on his face reminded her of the malicious way a cat toyed with a mouse before it either died of fright or the cat grew bored and finally ended the torment with death.
“Don’t do this, Lyle. I can’t belong to you. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Sure it is. Melanie’s dead. You’re finally home where you belong. There’s nothing standing between us now.”
What did the bubbly waitress have to do with it? Unless…. “Why did you kill Melanie?”
“Because you’re such a goody-two-shoes, you’d never marry a divorced man.”
Holly’s stomach turned and threatened to heave its contents. Was Melanie dead because of her? Dizzy and faint, she forced her feet to stand under her. If she passed out, it was over for certain. “I can’t marry you, Lyle.”
“You don’t have any choice. You’re not running away again.” His tone darkened. Anger flashed in his eyes.
“They’ll never let us marry, not when they find out we’re brother and sister.”
He froze for a moment then laughed so hard and loud Holly was sure the windows rattled.
“Nice try.” He stepped closer.
She backed away one step then another, matching his advance with retreat, but his bolder strides closed the distance between them despite her withdrawal. Fractures like shards of glass appeared at the edge of her vision, driving pain through her skull.
The windows rattled again. She stilled, listening. Dirt blew against the side of the house and pelted the old window in the kitchen. Then she heard something else. A growing rumble. “Lyle, do you hear that?”
“Yeah, so what? This place has stood up to many a storm over the years. It’s not about to fall to one now.” He smirked and advanced again.
Swinging abruptly around, Holly ran for the bathroom and slammed the door.
He hit it and tried to wrench it open.
She pressed her back to it and pushed against the old claw foot bathtub with her feet, praying he wouldn’t fire the gun through the thin wood, or it was over.
Lyle cursed and hollered, pounding on the door. “Open this door! Now!”
Hours passed in the span of three heartbeats. She heard and counted each one. The rumble became a roar that drowned out Lyle’s rantings and all other sound. She only knew he was still there because his fists continued to beat against the door. That ceased when snapping wood and shattering glass punctuated the roar of a freight train.
Had Lyle left? She’d have to risk it. She had to find shelter. The house was coming apart.
Holly looked around. Nowhere to go. The tiny window didn’t have bars. Far too small to squeeze through, even if there wasn’t a tornado passing that would tear her to shreds if she crawled out.
Holly’s gaze landed on the old bathtub. Her only chance. The rest was in God’s hands. She pulled the cellphone out of her pocket, jumped into the tub, and curled up with her free hand and arm covering her head as best she could. She found Dax’s number and hit SEND again.
“Holly?” He picked up right away, something very near panic in his voice.
“Dax, I’m sorry.” Without intending to, she started to cry. “I’m so sorry.” She nearly had to scream to make sure he heard her.
“Sweetheart, what’s that noise?”
“A tornado. It’s taking the house apart. I need you to know how sorry I am for earlier.” Pain in her head intensified as pressure mounted in the house. “Goodbye, Dax.”
Boards snapped like kindling. Drywall crumbled. The world caved in.
She screamed.