Holly thought about diving to the floor just before the gun went off, but she had a feeling Lizzie’s finger would be faster. There was nowhere for her to run to and no one coming to save her. This time she’d run out of luck.
Holly closed her eyes and wondered when it would all be over.
She heard the click of the gun when the safety came off, and at the same time, the sound of scrabbling on the front door outside and a loud yapping. Holly shook off her surprise more quickly than Lizzie and threw herself forwards onto the other woman, knowing this was her only chance.
The gun went off and Holly felt a blinding, white hot pain in her shoulder. She ignored it and kept trying to wrestle the deadly firearm away from Lizzie. Unfortunately, Lizzie had spent a great deal of time dealing with full grown men and winning. Holly didn’t even regularly go to the gym and felt outmatched in every single way. All she could do was fight as dirtily as possible and hope for a miracle.
The pair were still rolling around the floor together when George groaned and rolled off the bed. It was only blind luck that Holly had been pushed clear of Lizzie - and was probably just about to get her ass kicked - when it happened. George fell as dead weight and landed on Lizzie, crushing her to the floor. Lizzie struggled beneath George, trying to push him off, but George was so drugged up it was like pushing a corpse.
Holly seized the opportunity and grabbed the gun. “Where’s the key?” she yelled at the struggling woman, who stopped wriggling for a moment and glared at Holly.
“Go to hell,” she said.
Holly felt her finger tighten on the trigger, and despite George’s proximity to the target, she wondered if she should just pull the trigger. It would be so easy, and after everything this woman had done… She shook the feeling away. That wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t like them.
“The key… or I start shooting bits of you,” Holly said, figuring that maiming wasn’t the same as murder.
Lizzie’s eyes flickered to the opposite eave of the attic and Holly could see the silver key dangling on a hook, probably placed there to torment her victims. Forcing down the feeling of disgust, Holly took the key and unchained George’s wrist. She opened the manacle and then snapped it shut around Lizzie’s wrist, keeping the gun trained on her the whole time. Fortunately, the pinned woman didn’t try anything. Instead, she was gently sobbing and talking to her ‘brother’. Holly thought about pulling George off her, but she didn’t seem likely to harm him and getting close to Lizzie again was just asking for trouble.
She pulled out her phone and dialled 999. It was crazy to think that less than a month ago, she hadn’t ever had to dial those three digits.
As the adrenaline faded, Holly again became aware that she’d been shot. Blood stained her top, and she could feel the sting the bullet had left behind. A quick glance beneath her clothing let her know that the bullet had just creased her collar bone. It hurt a lot, but no major damage had been done. She’d been lucky to escape with her life, and it was all because…
She heard another yapping noise and remembered what had saved her.
Holly rushed downstairs and opened the door, a little cautiously in case Lizzie had some ferocious guard dog. She should have trusted her ears. Watson looked up at her like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
“Huh! So you get too tired to walk on a lead, but you can somehow follow me cross-country to a house?” she complained but bent down and ruffled the dog’s wonky, floppy ears. He was only a baby but some instinct had already helped him save her life. There was no way she would be turning him out of her home. She and Watson were going to be a team like, well… Sherlock and Watson.