Now. Nownownownownow.
She shifted in the dirt, clenching her eyes shut when a pebble rolled away from her foot. The man stopped laughing, and Riley lunged forward, vaulting across the front yard and onto the sidewalk. She ran hard, her feet aching, her thighs burning. She kept her eye focused on the first house on the block, the one with glowing lights and a car parked in the driveway.
They’ll save me, she thought. They’ll let me in.
She could hear the man’s boots clatter onto the pavement behind her. She could hear his hard breathing, feel him as he closed the gap between them. Something inside her propelled her forward, past her burning muscles and pinching lungs, and she jumped over a shrub, her feet pounding across the pristine green lawn. The front door was only inches away.
Riley reached, feeling like her muscles were tearing, her fingernails scraping the door. When she got traction, she pounded with her fists, mashed the doorbell. She could hear the stupid, slow chime gently ringing.
“Let me in!” she screamed. “Please let me in!”
She grabbed the knob and miraculously, the door fell open.
“Call the police! Call the police!” The tears were streaming down her face now, and everything that she ignored came surging back, all together, paralyzing her body in one aching mess. “Call the—”
Riley stopped. All the lights were blazing, and a few pristine pieces of living room furniture were set in the main window, but nobody was there. The kitchen was set up with a bowl of fake fruit on a shiny wooden table and a telephone on the counter.
She bolted for it.
Her fingers closed around the receiver and she dialed 9-1-1 without waiting for a dial tone.
Nothing happened.
“Hello? Hello?”
She yanked the phone and it plopped right off the counter, thunking to the hardwood floor below. It had no wires. No telephone jack.
Her hands started to shake.
A crash against the glass door in front of her snapped her attention, and Riley could see the man, his fists slamming against the door. Each slam shook the glass and rattled the teeth in Riley’s head. The glare from the light cut across his face, and Riley knew that if she just stepped forward, she could see who he was—but she refused to step forward.
“Come on, Jane!”
She was close enough to see the spittle come out of his mouth. She took a staggering step back, feeling the phone digging into her ankle.
And then she was falling.
It happened in slow motion. She could see the roosters on the kitchen wallpaper arcing gently as her body went down, down. She felt the crush of her bones as she hit the floor, first her hip, then her shoulder, and finally her head. Somewhere, she heard the sickening smack of flesh against wood, and then the pain was pinballing through her. Her ears rang, and a blanket of red covered her eyes.
Vaguely, she heard footsteps. Then hands working their way under her arms. She felt the prick of her hair breaking as someone tried to gather her up. Riley knew she should fight. She knew she should scream. Those were the last thoughts she had before the darkness fell over her.
? ? ?
Riley opened her eyes and her body arced in pain. It screamed from her hip, from her arms; she felt like her lungs had been overinflated then popped.
“Mom?”
“Oh, Riley, thank God.”
Riley blinked, trying to clear the fuzz from her head. “What happened? Where am I?”
“You’re at home, in your bed. We were hoping you could tell us what happened.”
She pinched her eyes shut, the evening coming back in fragments. She remembered the man, the car, the clawing terror. “There was someone chasing me.” Riley cleared her throat and her mother handed her a cup of water with a plastic straw.
“Take it easy.”
“How did you find me?”
Her mother breathed in a deep sigh. “Someone from the realty office called your father’s phone.”
“And?”
She looked away. “Someone reported that there was a young woman running down the street, screaming. He said she went into one of the model homes.”
Riley struggled to sit up. “Did they get him? The man who was chasing me, did they get him?”
Mrs. Spencer’s eyes looked glassy and she blinked away tears. “There wasn’t anyone chasing you, sweetie.”
Riley’s breath caught. “Yes, there was.”
“The young man who called said he saw you run away from the house. He said you tried the door and then took off running. He didn’t mention a man.”
“Well then, he didn’t see him. But he was in a black car and he knew my name.” Riley clutched at the neck of her nightgown that seemed uncomfortably tight. “He knew her too. He was coming after me. He was pounding on the sliding glass door.”
Riley’s mother said nothing as a tear slid down her cheek.
“If you don’t believe me, just go outside. There has to be tire marks and, and, he was pounding on the sliding glass door. He was screaming. He was spitting.”