Beverly Connor - Dead Past

Catherine was taken aback. She stared at Diane, stunned. For a moment Diane saw the humanity come back into her face.

“Then how can you try to stop me?” she whispered.

“You can’t let yourself become like them,” said Diane.

“I’m not like them. How can you compare what I’m doing with what they did? I’m just getting rid of what you people can’t. Archie told me what you people talked about. How you can only pick up the pieces.”

“Blake Stanton wasn’t a part of the meth lab,” said Diane.

“I tried to tell her,” said Archie. Diane could see tears in his eyes. “I tried to tell her.”

“Why did he try to hijack your car? I heard about that.” Catherine’s gaze darted toward Archie.

“Because he was stealing from my museum and he thought I knew about it. Like your daughter, he just happened to be at the party. He was completely innocent of the meth lab crimes. And he has a mother just like you who is in unbearable pain because someone killed her baby,” said Diane.

Diane saw it in her eyes, the sudden flash of guilt. She is the one who killed Stanton. And Archie killed McNair. McNair was probably guilty, but Stanton didn’t have anything to do with her daughter’s death.

“No, you’re lying,” she said.

But Diane knew Catherine believed her.

“If he…”

There was a pop, like a lightbulb being stepped on, and Catherine stopped talking and stared; a dot of red dripped in the center of her forehead and she fell to the floor.

“What?” said Archie.

Another lightbulb bursting, and he went down, too, the back of his head blown out.

Diane stared at the two dead bodies for a second before she dove from the chair and skidded across the linoleum. Get away from the windows, her brain told her. She crawled across to the door into another room. It was a dining room that opened onto a deck. She saw a shadow on the deck from the moonlight. She crawled on her belly from the dining room into the carpeted living room.

What is this, she thought? Payback for McNair or Stanton? Drug dealers looking for revenge? SWAT team? Adler loose from his bonds? She crawled across the floor looking for a place to hide. She saw a partially open door and a stairway. She slithered through the door and ran up the carpeted stairs. OK, now what. The gunman would be coming in, she knew it. Why hadn’t she gotten at least one of the guns that Catherine and Archie had? She always yelled at the people in movies who didn’t pick up dropped guns in situations just like this one. Damn.

She ran into a bedroom and looked out the window onto the deck below. Someone was there. A hulking guy, not a ninja type. He was in a shadow. She eased over to the dresser, pulling out the drawers and looking for any kind of weapon. Foolish, the owners would have taken their guns with them. No. She felt the barrel of a gun. Pure joy. She grabbed it and pulled it out. It was a vibrator. Shit.

She went into the bathroom, looking for something. Nothing but shampoo, conditioner, and Band-Aids. Come on, there’s got to be a razor blade-something. Nothing. She heard whoever it was trying to break in. Archie must have locked the doors behind him. Thank God for that. Her heart was pounding out of her chest. She ran to the nightstands and looked for anything.

There was a photograph on the night table. She grabbed it and fumbling, took out the glass. She went to the bathroom and put a towel around it and broke it into several long pieces. She put three together, found some tape bandage, and wrapped it around one end of the pieces. She took a washcloth and wrapped and bandaged it up so that she had a soft handle. OK, now she had a piss poor weapon. But it was better than no weapon.

Diane went back in the bedroom and started to rummage through the other nightstand. Suddenly it struck her. She was in the parents’ room. She needed to go to the kids’ room where there would be all kinds of sharp and dangerous things. She slipped out of the bedroom. She heard a downstairs door crash. Damn, he was in the house. She slipped into another room. Bingo. A kid’s room. She looked in the closet for a weapon, hockey stick, baseball bat, rocket, anything. Baseball bat. Wonderful. A metal baseball bat was leaning against the wall. Now she was armed and dangerous.

Diane was about to come out of the closet when she noticed that the bedroom had a slanted roof. Her eyes were accustomed to the dark now, and she took time to examine the room and the inside of the closet. In the back of the closet under stacks of sports gear was a small access door into the extra space made by the eaves. She bet the kids used it all the time. It should be easy to open.

She shut the closet door and slid the small access door open and crawled in, carrying her glass knife and dragging her bat. The kids had put a latch on the inside of the door. Not a strong one, but a latch. She locked it. It was a tiny room. Nice for kids, but definitely cramped for adults. The room was partially lit by a small round window. She looked out into the front yard, watching for movement. The snow reflected varying shades of blue under the moonlight. It was pretty. How odd that it was pretty.

There beside a tree, a flicker of movement. A shadow figure sheltered itself against the trunk of the tree. It was a slim figure, not hulking like the other one she heard walking from room to room below. There were two of them. She knew who was after her now. They must have been watching her, waiting. Why didn’t they get her when she came out of the house, or through the woods? Didn’t see her in time? A car passed? She tried to think back to what she saw when she left her apartment. She was amazingly unobservant. She resolved from this day forth to be more observant.

There was a creak on the stairs. Diane’s heart hammered harder. Her throat burned from the bile that came up from her stomach. She was praying that he’d look for her and decide she had left the house, found a way out, and run for cover in the woods. She could outrun them. She was younger. And she was willing to bet she was in better shape. Why hadn’t she picked up the gun and why hadn’t she run out of the house? Because you were scared shitless, she told herself. Two people were just shot in front of you and you thought you were next and you just panicked.

Diane heard the floor squeak. He was in the kid’s bedroom. Stay still, don’t cough, don’t sneeze, just breathe slowly. She wanted to scream. Her heart was pounding in her ears now. Damn, why was she such a coward? She was braver than this when she was hanging by her fingernails off a ledge in a cave.

OK, pretend you are in a cave. A nice cool dark cave. Take slow breaths. She gripped her knife tight in her hand as she heard him open the closet door. Don’t make any noise. An eternity passed. What was taking him so long? Close the door and go look someplace else, damn you. She waited. The door closed. She waited. She heard him leave the room. Just stay here until morning, she told herself. Stay until morning.

She listened to him go into another room. Thank God for creaky floors. He searched the entire upstairs. She heard him go downstairs. She peeked out the window. The shadow was gone, moved someplace else. Or she came inside to help search.

Diane listened and heard low garbled voices. She couldn’t make out the words. They grew louder. Why? Were they arguing? Or were they talking to her?

They mounted the stairs again, but she didn’t hear any more creaking. They had stopped in the hallway.

“Diane.”

So they knew her name.

“We know you’re in here.”