to imprison so she’d want out and then you could kill her, do
it all over again and again. You need help, Tyler. Let me call someone.”
She took another step toward the bricks.
He began walking toward her. “I would rather have held you
close, Becca. If only–”
There was the sound of a car pulling up outside.
“The sheriff’s here,” Becca said quickly. “Just listen. It’s over,
Tyler. The sheriff won’t let you hurt me now.” She took another
quick step to the side. Three feet, just another three feet. Tyler
looked up and frowned when he heard a car door slam. He cursed
even as he ran toward her, his hands outstretched, his fingers curved
inward.
Becca leapt toward the pile of bricks, went down on her knees,
and grabbed one. He was on her then, his hands around her neck,
and she slammed the brick against his shoulder. His fingers tightened,
tightened, and his face was blurring above her. She raised the
brick again, brought it upward slowly, and he twisted just as she
heaved it toward him. It struck his face and he howled with agony,
and his fingers loosened for just a moment. She gulped in air and
struck again. He sent his fist against her head, and she saw blinding
flashes of light, felt the pain sear through her head, knew she
couldn’t hold on. She was losing and she would die because she
wasn’t strong enough. She tried to raise the brick again but she just
couldn’t.
“You faithless bitch, you’re just like all the rest of them!” His fingers
tightened around her neck.
Sheriff Gaffney yelled, “Let her go,Tyler! Let her go!”
Tyler was heaving now, his fingers strong, so strong, tighter and
tighter now and she knew she would die.
Then there was a shot. Tyler jerked over her. His hands fell away.
She blinked and saw him turn slowly to face Sheriff Gaffney, standing
in a cop’s stance, his Ruger P85 pistol held tightly between his
hands. “Get away from her,Tyler. Now! MOVE!”
“No,” Tyler said and lunged for her again. Another shot rang
out. Tyler fell on top of her, his face beside her head. Dead weight,
oh God, he was now dead weight.
“Hold on, Ms. Matlock, and I’ll get him off you.”
Sheriff Gaffney pulled Tyler away. He’d shot him once in the head
and once in the back. He gave Becca a hand up. “You okay?”
She was shaking, her teeth chattering, her throat burning, Tyler’s
blood all over her, and the healing burn on her arm was throbbing
fiercely. She smiled up at him. “I think you’re the most wonderful
man in the whole world,” she said. “Thank you for coming in the
house. I prayed and prayed that you would see all the lights on and
come in.”
“I heard little Sam crying,” Sheriff Gaffney said.
“Hello?”
A small, thin voice. It was Sam and he was standing at the top of
the basement stairs.
“Oh, no,” Becca said. “Oh, no.”
“I told him to wait in the kitchen for me. Damn. Okay, I’ll get
Rachel over here. Can you pull yourself together, Ms. Matlock?
We’ll go upstairs and you can take care of little Sam until Rachel
comes. He loves Rachel a whole lot, you’ll see. Just keep hanging
in there, ma’am.” He shook his head, then said, “Jesus, I knew Tyler
killed his wife, just knew it in my lawman’s gut, you know? But he
also killed poor little Melissa twelve years ago. I wonder how many
other women he’s killed who rejected him.”
Becca didn’t want to know.
Adam was stretched out on the sofa in his living room, a soft pillow
under his head, a light afghan pulled to his waist, so relieved
that Becca was back safe and sound, staying in his house, her stuff
scattered around, all at home now, that all he could do was grin. He
didn’t want her to leave, not ever. He heard her moving about in
his wonderful, fully equipped, very modern kitchen, making him a
healthy snack, she’d said.
The house was cool since he’d had the good sense to install central