Chapter 39
39
Twenty minutes after that woman had arrived, Ayla was kneeling by the flowerbed, the afternoon sun finally burning through the clouds, turning the earth warm beneath her hands. She balanced herself better, and leaned to tug at a thick root twisted around what she thought was a mini-rose bush.
She liked it when her muscles cooperated without argument. It made the small stuff feel even better. She liked it here at his church. It felt welcoming. As if everyone could belong there. She’d been in a few churches before where it was the exact opposite. Only those like the ones who attended were welcome. And that was just the exact opposite of how it should be. Whatever had happened to welcoming people? There was a bible verse she thought that said something about welcoming angels and guests and not knowing it. That had always stuck with her—she’d had a foster family who had taken her to church every week for several months. And she’d actually felt welcomed with them.
Rather like the Hillers had welcomed her and Aubrey—even before Aubrey and Guthrie had started making goober eyes at each other and everything.
A truck pulled in. For a moment she thought it was his friend, Pastor Wil.
But it was a man she thought she’d seen before. Wearing a security guard uniform shirt. For the hospital.
Ayla tried to stand. “Hello… ”
“Deal with her!” the older man, in the guard shirt said. He had two guys younger than he was with him. They were ugly and dirty. And she just knew… they weren’t going to be doing good things today.
She braced herself to run, but her left crutch was still on the ground at her feet. Ayla couldn’t run. She couldn’t.
She opened her mouth, to yell for Gunn and Emerson.
The older man lunged at her. His hand covered her mouth. He lifted her right off her feet.
His breath hit her cheek. "Don't you dare scream, girl. I’ve dealt with girls like you before. You won’t like what happens."
She tried. It came out muffled, caught behind his fingers. Her teeth caught the side of his palm, and he jerked her again, dragging her backward down the slight slope toward the edge of the church lot. She kicked.
He kept moving. She fought every step. Her hands clawed at his forearm. Ayla did everything she could think of to make him let her go.
He never did.
He shoved her toward one of the other men. “Take her to the creek. Get rid of her.”
“No! Let me go!”
He slapped her. Just slapped her. Ayla cried out, as the younger man wrapped his arm around her waist from behind and lifted her off her feet. “Daddy, what should I do with her? We can’t sell girls no more. We’ll get caught.”
“Shut up, boy. Just drown her like a damned dog, if you have to. Won’t take much to do. She can’t exactly fight back. Do it.”
"Daddy, I can’t kill her?—"
"Shut up and move. Just get it done. I’ll deal with Hiller myself."
"I can't swim." His voice cracked. Like he was going to cry or something. He was almost as tall as Gunn or Emerson and he was about ready to cry. That stuck with her. She didn’t know why, but it did. Ayla just kept fighting. Even though it didn’t do any good. "You know I can't. What if I fall in? Or there's snakes?"
"You think I care about snakes?" The older man stepped forward, towering over them both. "Proverbs warns us about women with smooth tongues whose steps lead straight to hell. That sister of hers screwed everything else up for me last week. You think I'm gonna let this one stick around and tell the sheriff who was here today?”
“I didn’t think a girl would be here.”
The older man grabbed Ayla's chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him. His eyes—pure evil. She’d seen pure evil like that once before. She would never forget how that man had looked at her when she’d been a little girl.
"And then there's you. All broken. Just another Jezebel in waiting. Hiller’s probably already screwed you, hypocrite that he is." His eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down, his voice dropping to a growl. "Women like you disgust me.”
She jerked her face from his hand, a rush of anger cutting through her fear. She bit at him. He pushed his son toward the river behind the church. "You hold her under. You hear me? You push her face down in that water and don't stop until she stops moving. Just hold her under, the water will do the rest."
"I don't—Daddy, I don't think I can—I ain’t never killed a girl before."
"You can, and you will. It ain’t that hard. You think this is a choice? The Lord gave you a father to obey. You think I care what you feel? Go. Do what you’re told, then we’ll follow your mother and brother and sister to Idaho.”
“But I can’t drown her. I hate the water?—"
" Don’t leave witnesses.”
Ayla just kept fighting, but… she couldn’t. She knew she couldn’t.
Her voice rose, loud and clear. "Gunn! Help!"
He clamped a hand over her mouth like his father had done before. She screamed against it anyway.
She threw her weight backward. He stumbled, but didn't let go. "I don't want to do this. I don't—but Daddy says I have to.”
He just carried her to the waters. Terror filled her. What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t get away. Even if she broke free—Ayla couldn’t run away.
She slammed her elbow into his ribs. He shouted and shoved her. Her foot caught the edge of the slope and Ayla fell down.
Over the edge of the bank. Right there, on the edge of Finley Creek.
Ayla didn’t know why she did it, but she just kept rolling.
He hated the water. He hated it. He had said he couldn’t swim.
But Ayla could .
The shock of the water stole her breath. It was so cold. She hated it when water was really cold like that—but she could deal if it meant getting back to the man she loved. To her sister and her friends. To the life she wanted to build with the people who loved her.
She knew… this guy was afraid.
He was afraid of the water.
This man couldn’t swim.
But… Ayla could.
Years, she’d spent years doing physical therapy in swimming pools. Swimming was one reason she could even walk at all. She could do this. She could.
She lurched. Away. Toward the other shore. It was only twenty to thirty feet away. And Gunn had told her that morning when she’d been looking out all of his church windows… it wasn’t that deep. Just seven or eight feet at its deepest. He’d promised her they’d have a picnic next to the river someday. Just the two of them.
She wanted that so much.
She could do this.
Swimming was her only chance. She had to find a way to get help to Gunn and Emerson. Those men were going to hurt them. She knew they were going to hurt them.
The thought of Gunn being hurt… No.
Ayla was going to whatever it took.