Jeffery Deaver - The Sleeping Doll

Sam had left her yet again, just like she'd done years ago.

Abandoned her to those terrible nights in Daniel Pell's bedroom.

Abandoned then, abandoned now.

"My lovely, my Linda."

He approached slowly.

She winced at the pain. "Daniel, listen to me. It's not too late. God will forgive you. Turn yourself in."

He laughed, as if this were a joke of some sort. "God," he repeated. "God forgives me… Rebecca told me you'd gone religious."

"You're going to kill me."

"Where's Sam?"

"Please! You don't need to do this. You can change."

"Change? Oh, Linda, people don't change. Never, never, never. Why, you're still the same person you were when I found you, all red-eyed and lumpy, under that tree in Golden Gate Park, a runaway."

Linda felt her vision turning to black sand and yellow lights. The pain ebbed as she nearly fainted. When she floated back to the surface, he was leaning forward with his knife. "I'm sorry, baby. I've got to do it this way." An absurd but genuine apology. "But I'll be fast. I know what I'm doing. You won't feel much."

"Our Father…"

He pushed her head to the side so that her neck was exposed. She tried to resist but she couldn't. The fog was burned away completely now and as he moved the blade toward her throat, it flashed with a red glint from the low sun.

"Who art in heaven. Hallowed be-"

And then a tree fell.

Or an avalanche of rock crashed onto the path.

Or a flock of gulls, screaming in rage, landed on him.

Daniel Pell grunted and slammed into the rocky ground.

Samantha McCoy leapt off the killer, climbed to her feet and, hysterical, swung the solid tree branch onto his head and arms. Pell seemed astonished to see his little Mouse attacking him, the woman who scurried off to do everything he told her, who never told him no.

Except once…

Daniel slashed at her with the knife but she was too fast for him. He grabbed for the gun, which had fallen to the trail. But the rough branch connected hard again and again, bouncing off his head, tearing his ear. He wailed in pain. "Goddamn." He struggled to his feet. Lashing out with his fist, he caught her in the knee with a solid blow and she dropped hard.

Daniel dove for the gun, grabbed it. He scrabbled back, rose to his feet once more and swung the pistol muzzle her way. But Samantha rolled to her feet and struck with the branch again, two-handed. It connected with his shoulder. He stepped back, flinching.

Two words from the past came back to Linda, seeing Sam fight. What Daniel used to say when he was proud of someone in the Family: "You held fast, lovely."

Hold fast…

Samantha lunged again, swinging the branch.

But now Daniel had a solid stance. He managed to catch the branch with his left hand. For a moment they stared at each other, three feet apart, the wooden stick connecting them like a live wire. Daniel gave a sad smile and lifted the gun.

"No," Linda croaked.

Samantha gave a smile too. And she pushed toward him, hard, and let go of the branch. Daniel stepped backward-into the air. He'd been standing on the edge of a cliff, twenty feet above another nature trail.

He cried out, fell backward and tumbled down the rough rock face.

Whether he survived or not, Linda didn't know. Not at first. But then she supposed he must have. Samantha glanced down with a grimace, helped Linda to her feet. "We've got to go. Now." And led her into the dense woods.

Exhausted, in agony, Samantha McCoy struggled to keep Linda upright.

The woman was pale, but the bleeding wasn't bad. The wound would be excruciating but she could at least walk.

A whisper.

"What?"

"Thought you left me."

"No way. But he had the gun-I had to trick him."

"He's going to kill us." Linda still sounded amazed.

"No, he's not. Don't talk. We have to hide."

"I can't go on."

"Down by the water, the beach, there're caves. We can hide in one. Until the police get here. Kathryn's on her way. They'll come after us."

"No, I can't. It's miles."

"It's not that far. We can make it."

They continued for another fifty feet, then Sam felt Linda start to falter.

"No, no…I can't. I'm sorry."

Sam found some reserve of strength and managed to get Linda another twenty feet. But then she collapsed-at the worst possible place, a clearing visible for a hundred yards from all around. She expected Pell to appear at any moment. He could easily pick them off.

A shallow trough in the rocks was nearby; it would hide them well enough.

Whispers floating from Linda's mouth.

"What?" Sam asked.

She leaned closer. Linda was speaking to Jesus, not her.

"Come on, we've got to go."

"No, no, you go on. Please. I mean it… You don't need to make up for what happened. You just saved my life a minute ago. We're even. I forgive you for what happened back in Seaside. I-"

"Not now, Linda!" Sam snapped.

The wounded woman tried to rise but then collapsed. "I can't."

"You have to."

"Jesus'll take care of me. You go on."

"Come on!"

Linda closed her eyes and began to whisper a prayer.

"You are not going to die here! Stand up!"

She took a deep breath, nodded and, with Sam's help, climbed to her feet. Together they staggered off the path, stumbling through brush and over roots as they made their way to the shallow ravine.

They were on a promontory about fifty feet above the ocean. The crashing of the surf was nearly constant, a jet engine, not a pulse. Deafening too.

The low sunlight hit them full on in a blinding, orange wash. Sam squinted and made out the ravine, very close now. They'd lie down in it, pull brush and leaves over themselves.

"You're doing fine. A few more feet."

Well, twenty.

But then they closed the distance to ten.

And finally they reached their sanctuary. It was deeper than Sam had thought and would be perfect cover.

She began to ease Linda into it.

Suddenly, with the sound of crackling underbrush, a figure pushed out of the woods, coming right at them.

"No," Sam cried. Letting Linda slump toward the ground, she grabbed a small rock, a pathetic weapon.

Then, gasping, she barked a hysterical laugh.

Kathryn Dance, crouching, whispered, "Where is he?"

Her heart slamming, Sam mouthed, "I don't know." Then repeated the words louder. "We saw him about fifty yards back that way. He's hurt. But I saw him walking."

"He's armed?"

A nod. "A gun. And a knife."

Dance scanned the area around them, squinting into the sun. She then assessed Linda's condition. "Get her down there." Nodding at the ravine. "Press something on the wound."

Together they eased the woman into the depression.

"Please, stay with us," Sam whispered.

"Don't worry," Dance said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Winston Kellogg was somewhere to the south of them.

After they'd left the Point Lobos Inn, they'd lost track of the footprints and blood near a fork in the nature trails. Arbitrarily Dance had gone right, Kellogg left.

She'd moved silently through the brush-staying off the trail-until she saw motion by the edge of a cliff. She'd identified the women and approached them quickly.

Now, she called the FBI agent from her mobile phone.

"Win, I've got Sam and Linda."

"Where are you?"

"We're about a hundred yards from where we split up. I went due west. We're almost to the cliff. There's a round rock near us, about twenty feet high."

"Do they know where Pell is?"

"He was near here. Below us and to our left about fifty yards. And he's still armed. Pistol and knife."

Then she tensed, looking down, saw a man's form on the sand. "Win, where are you? Are you on the beach?"