Something snags in my mind.
“You were the one who called me that morning? I’d told you how the money was missing after our dinner.”
Sandra flashes an impish smile. “I figured that bitch was catering the dinner when you said it was a firm your husband used for work. When I called, I actually planned to say Eve had something to tell you. Something about Guy. I figured your alarms bells would have already gone off when you set eyes on her in your house. She oozed temptress, didn’t she? But on the phone, I realized you were mostly worried about the money.”
“But why lure me down there? To make the cops think I’d done it?”
“Fun, Bryn. A little more fun for me. Plus, a way to remind you of your fragile state. I never planned to hurt you, though. You were too weak to be a threat to me. I had other fish to fry.”
A thought slams into my brain, hard as a fist.
“Miranda,” I exclaim before I can catch myself.
Again, an impish smile, as if we’re merely gossiping about the latest town scandal.
“That couldn’t be avoided unfortunately.”
“Was she sleeping with Guy?”
“Lord, no,” Sandra says, her eyes wide in mock horror. “Though I’m sure she would have liked that. Miranda spotted you and me that day at the lake. That’s why I had to bust my ass to get out of there. Guy included me in every function he could, and I was pretty sure she was wise to us. I knew that as soon as she saw Guy at the office on Monday, she’d blab to him that I was with you. She really didn’t leave me a choice.”
And I’m next, I realize. After everything she’s confessed, she’s going to try to murder me, too.
“Sandra, let me help you. We can fix this, I’m sure.”
“Oh, please, Bryn. You’re supposed to be the expert on choices, so face facts. There’s only one way to fix this. And by the way, my name isn’t Sandra, so stop fucking calling me that.”
For a brief second her gaze shifts to the table. I can’t help but follow it. Among the scattered tools, there’s a hammer. A hammer with a claw at the end. Sandra looks back at me and grins the witchy grin again. I know now what the hammer is there for. She’s going to use it to bash in my head.
With only a second to think, I glance over her shoulder, draw my hands to my face, and scream, “Who’s that?” Dumb, but it works.
The second she spins around to see, I take off across the lobby. But in no time, she’s caught up to me. She yanks me by the back of my shirt, jerks me to the right, and punches me hard in the back of my head. It feels as if part of my brain has shifted in my skull. I stagger to the side and reach up with my hand, trying to block the next blow.
But it doesn’t come. I hear Sandra behind me, moving fast. My head is throbbing, but I manage to turn around. She’s back at the table, I see, reaching for the hammer. My heart collides against the inside of my chest. I’ll never be able to outrun her.
I stagger a few steps backward. I realize that I’m still holding the swag bag. Desperately, I tighten my grip on the handle. It’s all I’ve got to defend myself with.
Sandra steps forward, the hammer raised. Her eyes are as dark and blank as a shark’s. As she aims the hammer at me, I swing the bag in her direction. She dodges to the left, losing her balance a little. I back up again, not daring to take my eyes off her. Sandra rights herself and lunges forward, her arm raised again.
I reach into the bag for the candle and grab it tight in my hand. In one swift motion, I heave it at Sandra’s head.
She howls in pain as the candle makes contact with her face before splintering apart on the floor. I take off again. I haven’t run in months, but I sprint as fast as I can. There’s no time to unearth my phone. I just have to make it to the end of hall, to the door, to my car. I reach the corridor and keep running. Behind me is only silence.
I’m halfway down it, and then, finally, all the way.
It’s only when I’m in the room at the end that I see my mistake: I’ve gone down the wrong corridor, the one with the padlocked door. I cry out in despair. There’s no way to get out.
I grab the padlock anyway, hoping it might not be in place, but it is. Frantically I search the room with my eyes, looking for a key, but there’s nothing.
I spin around and start back down the corridor. Maybe I can barricade myself into one of the tub rooms and call 9–1–1. Before I can check, I spot Sandra. She’s at the start of the corridor, headed in my direction. Even from here, I can see that she’s got the hammer ready.
I press my hands to my head, trying to think. How to escape? There’s no way she can easily be overpowered. As I pull my hands away, my gaze falls to the metal door in the wall, the door to the laundry chute.