Chapter Nineteen #2
Theresa stared. “Liar!” Her face reddened. “Why would she have photos of us? Why write to tell him about pictures like that? And then you did the same thing. You called Cameron and stirred everything up again. So I had to come here again. I had to find those photos and stop you.”
So Theresa had been the one to break into Chloe’s apartment.
She must have taken the key from Sharee.
Had she followed Chloe tonight? Did she only want the photos, or did she plan to kill Chloe, too?
“Where are your children?” she asked, hoping to distract Theresa long enough for Brian to send help.
“They’re with my sister. Cameron thinks I’m there, too. My sister and I are close and I often visit her.”
“Does your sister know what you’re doing?”
“We’re twins. We’d do anything for each other. She knows how much I’ve suffered.”
Chloe took a step back, but the alley was narrow and now she was pressed up against the wall of the pizzeria, the cold of the bricks seeping into her shoulders even through the insulation of her jacket. “The sheriff’s department has those photos,” she said.
“Liar!” Again, Theresa flung the word like a dart. “I found one photo in your purse—a picture of my family. Where are the rest of them?”
Chloe shook her head. “I don’t have them.”
She never would have believed the woman could move so fast. Theresa surged forward and slammed the back of Chloe’s head against the wall.
Pain rocketed through Chloe’s skull and her vision grayed.
She fought to stay alert, even as Theresa ripped the scarf from her around her neck and wrapped it around Chloe’s throat.
She pulled hard, tightening the ligature, while Chloe tried to fight her off.
Grayness swamped her as Theresa squeezed and squeezed.
“MANAGER SAYS WE’RE closing up in five minutes.” The bartender at Murphy’s, Felice, stopped beside Brian’s table.
“Then I’ll get out of your way.” Brian stood and Daisy rose also, tail wafting gently.
Felice patted the dog. “It’s a cold night,” she said. “Stay warm.”
“I will.” He pulled on his coat. “I’m waiting for my girlfriend.”
“Have a good one.” Felice picked up his empty coffee cup and moved away. He turned toward the door and his phone sounded, not with a text but a call. He pulled out the phone and saw Chloe’s number on the screen. “Everything okay?” he asked.
No answer. Muffled noises. Distant voices. His heart hammered painfully and he lunged toward the door, knocking over a chair. Felice, back behind the counter, looked up. “I have to go,” Brian said, and raced out the door, Daisy trotting after him.
Out on the sidewalk, he looked both ways. He had no idea where Chloe had gone. Though she had checked in regularly, as planned, she had never given her locations. Why hadn’t they thought to do that?
He started walking east, looking into every shop, every parking lot and alley. Two couples stood at the corner. He jogged up to them. “Have you seen a woman in a black ski jacket and a dark blue beanie?” he asked.
They stared at him, glassy-eyed from too much alcohol. “Cool dog,” one woman said. She bent toward Daisy, who shied away.
“Have you seen a woman in a black coat?” Brian asked again, his voice raised.
They shook their heads. “We haven’t seen anybody,” one of the men said. “This place is dead.”
Brian turned and jogged back the way he had come, past the coffee shop, past the pizzeria where the server had told them about seeing Sharee with another woman.
Daisy, who had been ahead of him, had disappeared. He looked around and spotted her stopped at the alley next to the pizzeria, staring into it.
“Come on, girl,” he said. “No time for pizza now.”
Daisy glanced at him, then moved into the alley. Brian followed. Then he heard a muffled cry and raced toward the sound.
“Don’t come any closer or I swear I’ll cut her.”
A person stood at the end of the alley—a woman.
Light from a single bulb over a nearby door glinted off the blade of the knife she held.
At first, Brian’s brain only registered the blade.
Then he locked eyes with the woman who held the knife—glittering blue eyes with an expression like a cornered animal.
At first he thought she stood over a pile of clothing.
Then a low moan emerged from the clothing and with a jolt like an electric shock, he recognized Chloe—the black jacket, the blue cap, and something bright blue and textured—a scarf?
—wrapped around her throat. “What have you done to her?” he cried.
“Why couldn’t she leave me alone?” the woman asked. “All I wanted was to live my life, married to the man I love and taking care of our children. But she and her sister couldn’t leave us alone. I had to stop them. Don’t you see?”
Brian tried to force his brain to work. Was this Bunny? Or Cameron Douglas’s wife? It didn’t matter. She was a woman with a knife. He had to stop her from using the knife on Chloe. “She’s not hurting you now,” he said. “Why don’t you leave her alone?”
“No!” The woman’s shout echoed against the walls of the buildings on either side. Daisy barked.
The woman shifted her attention to the dog. “Shut up!” she said.
Daisy growled and barked even more furiously. “Make her stop,” the woman said. “Someone will hear.”
“Daisy, hush!” Brian commanded.
But the dog ignored him. She lunged at the woman, who swiped at the dog with the knife.
Brian didn’t think, he only reacted. He shot forward and grabbed the woman’s wrist and squeezed.
Daisy, still barking, jumped at the both of them.
They fell, hard, but Brian held on, rolling the woman over and pressing her to the ground.
“Chloe!” he shouted. “Chloe, are you okay?”
No answer. He forced the woman’s face to the ground and pulled her arms behind her back. “What did you do to her?” he demanded. But the woman didn’t answer. She only sobbed, her body convulsing beneath him.
A spotlight shone down the alley, blinding him. “This is the police!” a man shouted. “Put your hands up.”
Brian reluctantly let go of the woman and raised his hands. The woman lay still, her sobs quieted. “My girlfriend is hurt,” Brian said. “Please call an ambulance.”
He started to move to Chloe’s side, but a harsh voice barked, “Stay still!”
Footsteps pounded down the alley, then someone grabbed Brian’s arms and forced them behind his back.
Restraints tightened around his wrists. He fought a paralyzing sense of déjà vu.
Were they arresting him? Again? He looked back over his shoulder at Chloe.
She lay slumped, eyes closed, one cheek pressed to the ground, her face bleached of color, the scarf knotted at her throat.
A uniformed deputy pulled Brian to his feet. Daisy had stopped barking and cowered next to Brian, whimpering. “Call an ambulance,” Brian said again.
“The ambulance is on its way,” the sheriff’s deputy said.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Brian said. “That woman attacked Chloe. She had a knife.”
“We’re keeping you cuffed until we know for sure what’s going on.”
Another deputy had pulled the woman with the knife to her feet and retrieved the dropped weapon. “He attacked me!” she shouted, and pointed to Brian.
“She had a knife,” Brian protested. “She threatened to kill my girlfriend.”
“He strangled her,” the woman shouted. “The knife belongs to him and he tried to kill me.” Then she sagged against the deputy, her shoulders shaking with sobs.
“That’s not what happened,” Brian said, but he doubted anyone heard him. They were too busy dealing with the hysterical woman and seeing to Chloe.
More law enforcement arrived, along with paramedics.
Two deputies escorted Brian out of the alley to a waiting sheriff’s department SUV.
They locked him in the back seat, then left him alone.
Was he calm, or merely numbed by everything that had happened?
The flashing lights from the ambulance bounced off the hood of the SUV and into his eyes, giving him a headache, but he stared down the alley, waiting for any sign of what was going on with Chloe.
Long moments later they wheeled a gurney into the alley, then emerged with a blanketed form. Brian swallowed a knot in his throat. The figure under the blankets didn’t move.