Chapter 54

I’m okay. I think the bullet grazed me and it’s only a surface wound. Maybe the padded harness strap deflected it. But I may not be so lucky again. Marley is a sick, cold-blooded killer—and she won’t stop until she has what she wants.

My baby. My precious Isa.

I know this house like I know the back of my hand. I’ve been trapped inside it for what seems like a lifetime. Using my hands to guide me, I grope the walls and countertops and make my way to the living room. My heart racing, all five senses on high alert, my body is like an antenna.

Expecting to hear more bullets flying off the walls, all I hear is the thud of Marley’s Uggs. She’s coming after me!

The gun has gone silent. At least for now.

“Ava, give her up,” screams Marley, getting closer. “You can run but you can’t hide.”

On my next ragged breath, I drop to all fours and crawl across the wood floor with a still wailing Isa in her carrier pressed against my chest, the Baby Reborn doll dragging along the floorboards beside me. My shoulder throbs, but I’m able to work through the pain. Pure adrenaline is propelling me.

Moving like a crocodile, I hide behind Ned’s oversized leather sofa, shielding myself and my baby from more possible gunfire. I hear my blood pounding in my ears, my heart thudding in my chest. My breathing is shallow, my breaths coming out in short panicked pants, but fortunately the rain drowns them out. I stay here for a few moments, catching my breath and strategizing my next move.

I visualize the spacious room. It’s easy. Facing the couch is the massive floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace that separates the living room from the billiards room and the backyard. An idea comes to me. It’s risky, but it’s the only chance I’ve got.

Stealthily, I crawl to the fireplace, praying I won’t be shot by the psychopath. When I feel the cold, rough stone against my palms, I know I’ve reached it. Just to the left of the hearth is a set of fireplace tools. As quietly as possible, I get into a kneeling position and grapple with them until I find the iron poker. I lift it out of the stand. I have a weapon.

And then I do one other thing. I make a life-or-death decision. The hardest decision I’ve had to make in my entire life.

Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Mama’s gonna do something absurd…

I retrieve my iPhone from the pocket of my sweats. It’s charged and still working. As much as I want to hold on to it, I can’t. Hoping Marley won’t hear me, I talk into it. Keeping my voice low.

“Siri, play Michael Bublé.”

Instantly, the crooner’s soothing voice comes through the speaker. I adjust the volume so that it can barely be heard above the pounding rain and howling wind.

Hush, little baby, don’t you cry…

I say a silent prayer. And my baby quiets.

With the help of the poker, I stand up and make my way to the pitch-black billiards room. I know now what it feels like to be blind, especially now that I’m using the poker like a walking stick in the utter darkness. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. I locate the green-felted table and navigate it, clinging to the smooth mahogany edges, until I reach the middle. Stacking the poker against the table, I fold myself over it, wincing from my wounded shoulder, and reach for the triangular rack of balls in the center. Dragging it across the felt, I gather up as many of the numbered, color-coded balls as I can and stuff them into the pockets of my sweats. Six in total.

My pockets loaded, I grab the poker and head to the sliding glass doors that lead to the pool and backyard. Despite the power outage, I can see sheets of rain lashing against the panes. Facing me is a sea of blackness. An infinity. The outdoor lights are out, too, including those that light up the pool. The house’s all-around surveillance cameras must also be out. A wash of relief. No one, including the police, will be able to see what comes next.

Balancing the poker between my legs, I try to slide open the doors with both hands. No matter how much I exert myself, they won’t budge. I jiggle the lock, but it’s jammed.

“C’mon, c’mon,” I murmur to myself.

And finally, it gives. My fingers are sore. My shoulder throbs.

With a grunt, I shove one of the doors open, and I’m immediately assaulted by a violent blast of wind and rain. I mentally call it Hurricane Ava. I’m strong, I’m fierce. Battling the elements, I dash outside with the poker, and in a matter of moments, I’m soaked to the bone. The cold rain pelts me like a spray of bullets, and I shiver as I shield the baby carrier, which gets drenched too.

“I’m coming for you!” I hear Marley yell. “Your life is over, Ava! Your baby is mine!”

Without slowing down, I take in the yard. I can barely see a thing. There must be a city-wide power outage as neither the twinkling lights of The Valley below nor those of downtown LA to the east shine.

Only the slightest sliver of moonlight enables me to see the outline of the black-bottom pool. Steely raindrops bombard the water, threatening it to overflow.

Carefully navigating the slippery, wet flagstones that surround the pool with the help of the poker as the rain pummels my skin and the gusting wind threatens to carry me away, I, one by one, toss the billiard balls onto the slick pavement, hoping that one of them will work its magic. I remind myself that Marley’s avoided the yard with her fear of heights. She’s not familiar with it. I have an advantage.

Without glancing back, I work my way to the edge of the property, my heart slamming against my ribcage. Halfway there, an outdoor umbrella comes flying at me, and a shriek slices the air.