“Don’t say any more, Linds.” Phone calls from jail were routinely recorded. Allison would rather not have to argue about whether a conversation with her sister fell under attorney-client privilege. “I’ll come down and talk to you. I can be there in less than an hour.”
She was resting her head in her hands when the phone rang again. She said hello and braced for some new revelation from Lindsay. Instead, she heard a man’s rough voice.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“What?” Electricity shot down her spine.
His voice rode inexorably over hers. “Don’t think you can ever be safe. No matter where you try to hide, I will find you. I don’t care how long it takes. No matter where you run, I will hunt you down. And then I will cut your head off. Or do you want me to tear your heart out? I’ll do it while your heart is still beating.” He laughed. “How’s your husband going to feel when he finds you dead, with no heart?”
He was still laughing when Allison hung up. Her hand was trembling so hard she had trouble replacing the phone in its cradle.
FOREST PARK
January 15
Kira Dowd was walking up the Wildwood Trail, enjoying the pull in the back of her legs and the sounds of Wilco in her headphones. The sky had cleared overnight and was now a bright blue. The curling ferns were a beautiful emerald green, the air crisp. The ground had frozen enough that the mud was nearly solid underneath her Timberland boots.
Suddenly someone grabbed her from behind. Powerful hands squeezed her neck.
Two years ago, when she was a freshman at Portland State, Kira had taken a women’s self-defense class. But then the attacker had been some guy lumbering around in a face mask and six inches of white padding, and she had had a cheering section.
Now she knew she was probably going to die all alone, with no one to hear, no one to help.
She kicked back and connected with the guy’s shin, but it had hardly any force. The hands tightened. One of her headphones popped loose. What was she supposed to do? Kira couldn’t remember. All she could think of was air and how badly she needed some.
She grabbed her attacker’s wrists and pulled, but they were strong and wiry. Kira clawed at her own neck, ignoring the pain, until she was finally able to grab a gloved index finger. Her lungs were on fire, and the edges of her vision went black. Still she yanked and twisted until finally the hands fell away.
Her first breath was so sweet, even squeezing through her bruised throat.
And with her second breath, Kira began to scream and scream, not even stopping when she saw her attacker, dressed in dark clothes and a black ski mask, crashing away from her through the brush.
TOMMY’S BAR-B-Q
January 17
Allison parked a block away from Tommy’s Bar-B-Q. As she got ready to leave her car, she glanced in her rearview mirror. Her blood chilled. A block behind her, a man in a blue parka was getting out of a nondescript older model car. She looked closer. It wasn’t just any man in a blue parka. He had a square, blocky build, and his jacket hood was cinched tight so that she couldn’t see his face.
Frantic, Allison looked up and down the empty street. No pedestrians and no other open businesses. Tommy’s Bar-B-Q was in a part of North Portland that gentrification hadn’t reached yet, between a burnt-out lot and a storefront that advertised appliance repair in one window and a no-kill cat shelter in the other.
Slow nausea rose in her throat. What was he planning to do to her? Would he really rape her and kill her? Or would he just beat her up? Even if he only left another note on her car while she was inside eating, she couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take not feeling safe. Couldn’t take not knowing what was going to happen next.
And this wasn’t just about her. This was about the baby. She had to do what she needed to do to keep the baby safe.
Pretending to look for something in her purse, Allison pulled out her cell phone and called Nicole. She pressed the button for speakerphone and left the phone on her lap where her pursuer wouldn’t see it.
Nicole’s voice floated up to her. “You running late?”
“No,” Allison said. “I’m right outside. But you know that guy who’s been threatening me? Well, he’s out here right now. He just parked on the corner about a block behind me. I don’t think he knows I’ve spotted him.”
Nicole’s voice was sharp with urgency. “Where are you?”
“In my car on the corner of Vancouver.”
“Turn on your dome light and pretend like you’re putting on lipstick. Keep an eye on him, though, and if it looks like he’s coming for you, start the car and drive off. I don’t want you getting hurt. I’ll call for backup and then go around the corner and come up behind him.”
A minute later, Allison watched the whole thing unfold in her rearview mirror. The guy shifting from foot to foot, his eyes on her car. Nicole popping around the corner, running up behind him with her gun drawn, and then her yell worthy of a warrior.
“FBI. Put your hands up!”