“Idiot,” she muttered, and she didn’t know if she was talking about him or herself. “Pull yourself together.”
As she rounded a final corner just outside of the Estacada city limits, she saw the sign for the Fir Glen Motel flickering in green neon. Pink letters announced that there was a vacancy at the little motel.
Zach’s Jeep wasn’t parked in its usual spot and her heart dropped. Which was just plain stupid. Yes, it was reassuring that he was just next door, but more than that, she was starting to rely on him, to care about him, to think of him in terms that crossed all sorts of barriers. Sometimes she wished she wasn’t London. That would solve some problems.
But it still wouldn’t resolve whatever feelings he still harbored for Kat. Once in a while Adria would catch him staring at her and she was certain he didn’t see her at all, but was caught up in memories of another woman, the woman she thought was her mother.
What a mess! She pulled into the bumpy lot and settled for a parking spot not far from the front door of her sorry little unit. The drab motel was L-shaped, a single door and window for each unit facing the parking lot. Most of the windows were dark, only a few boasting slivers of light visible through the drawn shades.
She cut the engine and stepped outside, where the mountain air was damp and heavy against her skin as she locked her car and headed toward her motel room.
Home sweet home, she thought as the wind caught in her hair and a rattling truck rumbled past. Again she felt as if she were being observed, that someone was lurking in the shadows, unseen eyes ever vigilant. Her skin crawled and she turned quickly, half expecting someone to jump out of the darkness.
But no one appeared.
And aside from the occasional car on the road, the night was still, the mist thick.
“Get a grip,” she muttered, but before she walked into her unit, she swept her gaze over the parking lot. Nothing was amiss. She recognized the owner’s battered Chevy Suburban and saw the bluish glow of a television in the window of the office. The few other vehicles looked deserted for the night.
She took a step toward her door and heard no heavy breathing or footsteps scraping behind her. She was alone. Unnerved, but alone.
She thought about the package she’d received. The dead rat with her own locket wrapped around its throat.
She thought about the hotel room at the Orion with its mutilated picture of her and smeared blood.
She thought about the fact that the Polidoris, Zach, and the police knew where she was staying.
Slowly, her nerves tight as piano wires, she pushed her key into its lock and swung the door open. It creaked and banged against the far wall.
She stepped inside and reached for the light switch.
Click.
Nothing happened.
The room was still dark as night.
Every hair on her arms stood straight on end. “What the—?”
She heard it then, the sound of heavy breathing, laborious breathing. She turned, but it was too late. She saw a shadow, a dark figure raise its hand. She feinted right and something hard slammed down on her head.
Crack!
For a second the world went black. Pain blasted through her skull. Her knees wobbled and she fell against the door frame. She tried to scream but a hand was on her throat, cutting off her air, forcing her downward to slither down the wall. She kicked and clawed, gasping, trying to scream, attempting to fight.
“You never learn, do you, bitch?” her attacker growled as Adria swung hard with her fist, flailing in the direction of the sound, all the while trying to drag in air, her lungs on fire. She saw only a glimpse of a face, hidden by a mask, as her attacker struck again, pounding the side of her head. “Leave before it’s too late,” the voice—a voice she’d heard before, she thought weakly—warned before raising the heavy object again.
Adria saw the blow coming, lifted an arm, and as the attacker swung, the hand on her throat loosened. Adria screamed and rolled. The object slammed into the wall, crashing through the plaster, then glanced against the side of her head. The room spun and she nearly lost consciousness, but not before she let out another hoarse, painful scream. A gloved hand covered her mouth and a cloyingly sweet smell assailed her nostrils. Adria clamped down hard with her teeth.
Her assailant let out a hiss of pain and let go. Adria was ready. She moved quickly and screamed again for help. She was almost free! Kicking madly, inching toward the door, she yelled just as, from the corner of her eye, she saw it coming. The same dark object aimed at her face. She recoiled, holding her arm over her head.
Smack!
Pain exploded through her skull and she thought she might pass out completely just as she heard the faint, faraway sound of a siren splitting the night.
Faintly, she heard a door open and a man’s’ voice yell, “Hey, what’s going on?”
Her attacker froze. Adria clawed her way to a sitting position. “Help me!”
A kick landed in her chest. Painful and crushing, the blow made her wretch and curl into a protective ball.
“You goddamned bitch!” Breathing hard and limping, the intruder climbed off her and scrambled with an uneven gait through the door. Gasping, the metallic taste of blood in her throat, Adria struggled upright and crawled to the threshold. Just one look, that’s all she needed, and she was sure she could identify the intruder. It was someone she’d met, she was certain of it, but the ache in her gut prevented her from thinking clearly and the edges of her vision blurred as if she might black out. She tried to concentrate, to hold on to consciousness as the attacker fled through the shadows of the huge trees surrounding the motel.
She took in deep breaths and held on to the door casing in a death grip as she squinted into the night. She saw the stars, and lights switching on in nearby units, but her attacker had disappeared. Damn it all, she thought as she spit blood onto the porch. She tried to yell again, but could make no sound.
A second door opened, just two doors down. Light spilled onto the small porch.
“Hey, you! Hey, are you all right?” A male voice. Unfamiliar. She drew in a long, painful breath.
Footsteps. Crunching on gravel. Running in her direction. Ready to kick her again. She cringed. A man loomed over her as the lights in the unit blazed on. Her stomach heaved suddenly and she retched.
“Oh, shit,” he said, looking around the small room before bending on one knee. “Now, don’t move, miss, you’re hurt!” She squinted up at him, but couldn’t make out his features as he turned toward the open door. “Marge!” he bellowed in a voice that pounded through her brain. “Marge, wake up the manager and call 911!”
“What?” a woman’s voice screamed back as doors creaked open and banged closed, rattling the loose windows in their panes. The man knelt beside her again. “Now you just lay still, help’s on its way.”
Voices filtered in through the open door and pierced Adria’s pain-racked brain.
“What the hell’s going on?” a woman asked.
“Hey, shut up! People are trying to sleep over here!” A man this time.
“Holy shit, what’s going on in unit thirteen?” A younger man. “Mary, come look at this, will ya?”
“Don’t get involved.” Mary wasn’t too willing to help out.
Adria blinked and tried to stay conscious. There was something familiar about the attacker, familiar and horrible and…it teased the edge of her consciousness. What was it? Who was he?