Daisy couldn’t breathe, much less speak. She fumbled for Tyler, pulling him across the tile until he was closer to her. The outside door loomed above her, appearing as enormous as the entrance to an airplane hangar, rocking from side to side. She fell forward, landing on her hands.
Chris. The thought of his name didn’t make it easier to breathe, but it did force her forward. One hand shifted and then a knee. Chris is in trouble. Her other hand inched ahead. It helped to focus on crawling, so much that she was startled when her head bumped the exterior door.
Don’t think, she ordered her brain as she tilted her head to see the doorknob. Don’t think of anything except Chris. Bracing her hands on the door, she rose onto her knees and grasped the knob. She tried to turn it, but it slipped in her grip, the sweat that coated her palms greasing the metal. Her fingers tightened, and it finally twisted, unlatching with a sharp click.
She pushed, but nothing happened. It took a moment for her to remember that the door opened inward. When she leaned back, the door came with her, opening until it bumped her knees. Night air rushed through the space she’d created, and she made a helpless sound before she managed to clamp her lips together.
Chris, she reminded herself. Get to Chris.
Shuffling back on her knees, she worked open the door until there was nothing between her and the open space. Dizziness hit her again, and her vision started to gray around the edges.
“No!” she said out loud, making herself jump at the volume. No passing out. She was moving too slowly already. How many times had the sheriff hit Chris? She needed to run.
Using the hand still clutching the doorknob and the other braced against the doorframe, she managed to pull herself up until she was standing. Her knees wanted to bend, her body to crouch, as if she were trying to balance on a sloped roof. She had to ignore everything—the breeze, the night sky, the open darkness, and her terror—especially her terror. If she allowed it in, it would take over and make her useless, and then Chris would die.
Chris, she thought, staring at the wood floor of the porch just outside the door. Forcing one foot forward, she crossed the threshold and stepped outside.
Chapter 22
Daisy promptly threw up. The force of it took her by surprise, and she stumbled forward another step as she vomited, bile burning her nose and throat. Her head buzzed with the violence of it, and she choked and heaved for several precious seconds before turning back toward the door. Leaning down, resisting the urge to run back into the house—the burning house—she grabbed Tyler by the coat again and pulled hard. His body lurched forward, pushing her back, and she half ran and half fell down the four porch steps.
At the bottom, she almost stumbled onto the concrete walkway, but she dropped Tyler and caught the railing, afraid that if she went down to her knees again, there would be no way she could get back up. Once she regained her balance, Daisy turned, staring at the ground immediately in front of her feet, and started to run in the general direction of number 304.
The yard was rough and lumpy and tried to catch her toes, tripping her a few times, but she didn’t fall. Her breathing was harsh, too fast for the short distance she was traveling. The scrubby brown grass ended, and she stepped off the curb, jolting her whole body when she landed. She watched the asphalt in front of her running feet, and then the tan fender of the squad was in front of her, and she couldn’t stop in time.
She bounced off the SUV, stumbling back several steps before she managed to catch her balance again and plow forward. Skirting the squad, she stepped over the curb onto more grass. The living room window would be right in front of her, she knew. All she had to do was look.
Chris. Repeating his name like a mantra, she forced her gaze from the ground and up at the house in front of her. Although still muted, the scene was much bigger now that she was directly in front of it. To her relief, Chris wasn’t dead. He was even on his feet, locked in a battle with the sheriff. As she watched, he landed an uppercut, sending Coughlin’s head snapping back with the force of the blow.
The sheriff recovered quickly, though, and hammered at Chris, driving him back toward the far wall. The movement jolted Daisy, and she rushed for the front porch. Her shins hit the first step, sending her sprawling over them. After a stunned moment, she started to crawl.
The front door hadn’t been closed completely, and Daisy shoved through the entrance. She’d expected crashes and thuds, or at least some sounds of a fight, but silence greeted her. Furious that she’d let Tyler delay her, frantic about what she was going to find, she tried to lighten her footsteps as she ran left toward the room she’d been watching though the window.