60

Piper pulled her car to a stop in her driveway and got out, spotting the Las Vegas Herald on the front porch. Her grandmother had been a reader for three decades. She wondered why since the news only seemed to upset her.

Piper went inside and called out, “I’m home, Grandma.”

She set her keys on the kitchen table and grabbed a juice from the fridge before kicking her shoes off her aching feet. Leaning against the counter, she took a swig from the bottle. She hadn’t slept in a chair since college, and her neck pinched and caused a headache.

In the bathroom, she grabbed some Advil and chased it with her juice. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her skin looked pale from a lack of sun, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She washed her face and pulled her hair back with an elastic before brushing her teeth. When she was done, she went back to the kitchen.

“Grandma?” she called out. “You home?”

Piper went to the garage through the kitchen. Lake’s car was still there. Her grandmother took walks every day, but those were in the afternoons. She checked the backyard to see if she was gardening. She called Lake’s cell phone, and it went to voicemail.

She went to her grandmother’s bedroom. No one was in there, and the bed wasn’t made.

Then she called Lazarus.

“Hey,” he said, breathing heavily.

“I know this is stupid, but I can’t find my grandma and I wasn’t sure who else to call.”

“Can’t find her?”

“She’s not home, but her car is here and she’s not answering her phone. Her bed isn’t made, and she always makes her bed the second she wakes up.”

Lazarus was silent a moment.

“Get out of the house.”

Just as he said it, she caught the movement in her grandmother’s closet. Subtle. If she hadn’t been looking right at it, she would’ve missed it.

The darkness moved like it was alive. A shadow unfurling.

Piper forced her body to take steps back and was stopped by the wall behind her.

Seeing Owen Whittaker outside of shackles and a jail jumpsuit made her feel sick. It didn’t look natural somehow, as though he was never meant to be free.

Piper, heart pounding, went for the hallway, and the sound of the closet door slamming open spurred her to run. She could hear the press of his footsteps on the carpet behind her.

As she rounded into the kitchen, the linoleum betrayed her. Her feet slid out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground.

Owen lunged, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. With a snarl, he went down on all fours and sank his teeth into her calf. Her scream echoed through the house as pain lanced her flesh.

She yanked her leg out of his mouth and kicked him with her heel in the face. His nose crunched, and his head snapped back. She crawled out from under him and was on her knees, and then her feet.

She scrambled to the counter and flung open a drawer, grabbing the biggest kitchen knife she saw. Her heart in her throat, hands shaking, she turned to face her attacker ... but he wasn’t there.

She breathed hard and loud. The garage door was close. She moved slowly to it, holding the knife out, and stayed near the counters. Having something at her back made her feel safer.

She ran for the door.

Owen leapt from around the corner and grabbed her arm that held the knife. He twisted the knife toward her, shooting a jolt of agony through her wrist. She screamed.

Piper felt his small, leathery hands wrapped around her throat and pushing her against the door, crushing her neck. The hands felt like stone against her skin. Immovable. She dropped the knife and pulled at his fingers.

Though smaller, he was so much stronger than her. She clawed his eyes and felt her thumb plunge into the blackened wound. He didn’t scream, but his face twisted in pain, revealing layers of burnt muscle. He put his hand over his injured eye and stumbled backward.

She shoved him and ran for the stairs leading to the basement. Nearly falling because she was skipping so many steps to get down. The door was open, and she slammed it behind her. There was no lock on it.

She dashed into the spare bedroom and locked the door behind her. Desperately scanning the room, she looked for something to defend herself with. As she felt sweat run down her face, she noticed a window. But when she tried to open it, it was jammed tight. Pulling hard, she accidentally cut her thumb.

Scratching outside the door. A small nightstand was next to the bed. She lifted it and started smashing it into the window. The first blow bounced off, but the second shattered the glass. She grabbed a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around her hand as she frantically knocked loose the jagged glass that was on the sill. Then she laid the sheet over it and started climbing through.

Her head was outside now. She glanced back to the door and saw it wide open.

A grip like a vise wrapped around her ankle and pulled her back inside. The sheet came off, and the glass scraped her thighs and belly. She screamed and he pulled harder. She fell to the bed. Blood was oozing from his eye where her thumb had gone in.

He stood panting, and then looked up toward the ceiling. Piper heard it too: footsteps upstairs.

While he wasn’t paying attention to her, she kicked him with both legs in the stomach, sending him flying back and hitting the wall.

Piper rolled off the bed and ran for the stairs.