Chapter 70
From somewhere near the kitchen, I heard a crash and a thud.
"Hey!" the man called over his shoulder. "You break anything good, and it's coming out of your ass!"
Oh God, how many people were in here, anyway?
"Whoever you are," I said in a far too shaky voice, "you've got the wrong house."
"Well, Louise," he said, "that's where you're wrong."
Louise? As in Louise Parker?
"Because," he continued, "we have exactly the right house. And you have exactly one minute to start talking, or we're gonna break more than some vase or whatever the f*ck that was."
"But I'm not Louise," I said, "She's not here."
"Sure." He chuckled, a deep, ominous sound that echoed oddly in the quiet house. "I believe you."
"It's true," I stammered. "I can give her a message if—"
"Shut the f*ck up," the guy said.
"But I’m not Louise. I don't even —"
"I said shut up!"
I clamped my lips shut and reached behind me. The Parkers kept a letter opener in the small drawer of the side table. If I could only reach it, maybe — shit, I didn't know. But I'd feel a lot better if I had something, anything, in my hands.
Slowly, the man moved closer. His shoes made a faint, padded sound against the hardwood floors.
My heart racing, I tried to make out his features. I looked wildly to the left and then to the right. I wanted to run, but I didn't know where.
He had a gun. I had nothing.
Maybe I could dive across the floor, and take cover under the coffee table. Yeah, right. Like the coffee table was bulletproof. Suddenly, my breath hitched, and my eyes felt too big for my face. Behind the stranger, something was moving – a shadow shaped like a person.
Oh my God. I knew that shadow, because no one other than Lawton moved like that. As I watched, it crept silently toward the stranger with deadly purpose.
If the stranger saw him, we were both in deep trouble. A flash of consequences went through my brain, ending with Lawton dead on the floor. I couldn't let that happen.
I made my voice sound small and weak, not hard to do, given the circumstances. "Please," I said. "Don't hurt me."
His laugh, low and deep, turned my insides to mud, but I forced myself to speak again. "I'll do anything you want. And I mean—" I swallowed. "Anything."
"Oh yeah?" Slowly, his right arm lowered. "You bet your ass you will."
Suddenly, the shadow behind him moved, barreling into the stranger at lightning speed. The man flew forward, and I jumped out of the way. The darkened forms slammed, hard, into the end table.
The table tipped, sending the lamp crashing to the floor, and the stranger with it. I saw the shadows of fists, and the sound of their impact, along with grunts and curses.
Desperately, I looked around for the gun. It had gone flying, right? But I didn't see it. I rushed toward stairway and dove for the light switch. I flicked it on.
The shadows became people, and the destruction became obvious. Near the front window, the man on the floor was still, his face a bloody mess and his arms limp at his sides. The fingers on one of his hands looked twisty and mangled, like they'd been stepped on hard, or beaten with a sledgehammer.
At last, I spotted the gun, a dull black thing with a short barrel, lying where the stranger had last been standing. I stepped toward it.
"Wait," Lawton said in a low, urgent voice. "Don't touch it."
I stopped and looked over at him. He got to his feet and gave the guy a final vicious kick. The guy didn't budge.
He rushed toward me, and I fell into his arms, feeling his strong chest at my cheek and his hands clutch me close.
"There's someone else here," I told him in a low whisper. "Toward the kitchen."
When I tried to pull back, he gripped me tighter. "There was," he said, "but not anymore." He glanced toward the back of the house. "Now c'mon, we're leaving."
On the way toward the door, he pulled the sleeve of his hoodie over his right hand and stooped down to pick up the gun. He thrust it into the hoodie's front pocket and reached for my hand.
"Wait," I said. "My purse."
"Screw the purse," he said, hustling me out the back door and into the Parker's back yard. Silently, we made our way through the back yard until we reached the tall iron fence that marked the beginning of Lawton's estate.
He made a foothold with his hands. "Over the fence," he said. "And don't stop 'til you're inside the house."
I looked down at his hands. "But how will you get over?"
"I'll jump it," he said. "But not right now."
"Why not?" I said.
"Because I've got to take care of something."
"What?"
"Chloe," he said in a deadly serious voice, "I don't want to boss you around, but if you don't get your ass over that fence right now, I'll have to toss you over. And you could get hurt. I don't want that. So just listen to me, alright?" His eyes were pleading. "Please, baby. Just go. You need to do this, alright?"
"But I want you to come too," I said.
"I'll be there in a few minutes, a half hour tops. You know how to close the gate, right?"
I nodded.
"Good. Get in the house. Lock the doors, and hit the control for the gate. I'll see you in a little bit."
"Wait," I said. "I should call the police, right?"
"No."
"What?"
"Trust me." He flicked his head toward his hands. "Now c'mon. You've gotta go, alright?"
Gingerly, I stepped up into the foothold, and a moment later, I was launched over the fence, landing hard on my ass on the mulchy surface. I glanced back and saw Lawton, watching me, his eyes fierce and his grip tight on the two closest fence spires.
"Go," he said.
And so I did.
When I reached the patch of shrubbery that would hide me from his view, I turned back for one last look. He was still there, watching me in the shadows. Conscious that as long as he was watching me, he wouldn’t be able to watch his own back, I turned and plunged toward the house.
Inside Lawton's house, I watched the minutes tick by – ten, then fifteen, then twenty. With every passing minute, I felt a fresh wave of guilt and uncertainty.
I should have never left him there by himself. What was I thinking?
But he'd been so insistent. And the way he talked, I had the distinct impression I'd be putting him in more danger if I stayed.
But why did anyone have to stay? He should've returned with me. I should've made him, even if I had to drag over the fence myself. And why couldn’t I call the police?
My head swimming, I vowed to give it five more minutes. And then, I was going back there. Or I was calling the police. Or both.
Exactly forty-three minutes after I'd burst into the house, I heard the back door open. I flew toward it and met Lawton just as he entered. I plowed into him and threw my arms around him, hugging him close.
"I was so worried," I said into his chest. "What were you doing?"
"Well that," he said, "is complicated." He stepped back, holding both of my hands in his. "Do you trust me?" he said.
Foolish or not, I did trust him. I hadn't always. But if I wanted us to have any chance at all, those days were over. I felt myself nod.
"Say it," he said.
"I trust you."
"Good," he said, "because in about an hour, you're gonna have to lie like a rug."
He was gripping my hands tighter now. If he squeezed any tighter, I was sure the bones in my fingers would shatter.
"Why?" I said, giving a little tug at my hands. "I didn't do anything wrong."
He looked down, and his fingers loosened, but he didn't let go. "Was I hurting you? Shit, I'm sorry."
"Tell me why I have to lie," I said. "I didn't do anything."
"Baby, I know. But these people, they don't think like you and I do."
"What people?" I said. "Who are you talking about?"
"People I used to know. That's who." He pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me. "And I won't let 'em hurt you, but you've gotta help."