Part 5 (1/2)
She stood up. She lifted one foot out of the water and stepped over the tub's wall. With that foot firm on the rug, she leaned out. In the vague light from the window, she searched the bathroom. She saw no one. The door appeared to be shut.
Must be shut. Still locked. I'd have heard the b.u.t.ton pop...
Okay, maybe the bulbs in the fixture blew. Three bulbs? Fat chance. How about a general power failure? Sure thing. No, it had to be the fuse box.
He's in the house!
Slowly, she raised her other foot out of the water. She stepped clear of the tub and stood aiming at the door.
Naked and wet, she felt more vulnerable than ever before in her life. She backed up, and knelt beside the hamper. Switching the pistol to her left hand, she reached in. She pulled out her jeans, her blouse.
The blouse was easy. She got it on without letting go of the gun. But she needed two hands for the jeans. She set the pistol on the counter by the sink, within easy reach.
Stupid, she thought as she fumbled with her pants. This is just the moment he'll choose to bust the door in. But she heard nothing. Only a car speeding along, somewhere far away. If he'd just hold off for a few seconds, she would be dressed and ready for him. She had to be dressed.
She was bent over, balanced on one leg, her other foot high and pus.h.i.+ng into the jeans, when she felt fingers clutch her ankle and jerk it out from under her.
She hit the floor.
Rough hands jerked her pants off. She tried to scramble up, but the weight of a man drove her against the floor, forced her legs apart. Her blouse was ripped off her back. Then he was lying on her, pinning her arms to the floor. She felt his hardness against her rump.
”Scream, c.u.n.t, and I'll rip off your head.”
She pressed her face to the rug. She cried, she whimpered with pain, she bit her lips until she tasted their blood, but she didn't scream. At some point, with the man grunting and thrusting in the darkness above her, Lacey pa.s.sed out.
CHAPTER SIX.
Dukane landed his Cessna Bonanza, that night, at Santa Monica airport. He stepped into the pa.s.senger cabin.
Alice smiled at him. ”h.e.l.lo, dead man.”
”Pleasant flight?” he asked.
”Very nice. I spent it thinking about what they'll do to you.”
”Nothing too drastic, I hope.” He bent down and unlocked the cuffs chaining her left wrist to the seat's armrest.
”You messed with Laveda, man. You're good as dead.”
”Better than dead, at the moment.”
”Sure, joke. You'll be laughing outa the other side of your face when they catch up with you. And they will. And I'll be with'em, you can count on it. I'll be the one with the knife, cutting out your eyes.”
”Such talk,” he said.
”You can't hide from us. We're everywhere. We know all. We're all powerful.”
”Yep. Okay, stand up.” He backed away. Alice stepped into the aisle. She looked good in the yellow sundress-fresh, and even younger than her nineteen years. Dukane had bought it at a Penny's in Houma, leaving Alice drugged in the pa.s.senger seat of his rented car. After buying the dress, he drove to a deserted stretch of road. He braced her against the side of the car, stripped off the oversized s.h.i.+rt he'd earlier used to clothe her, and wrestled her limp body into the dress.
”Are we getting outa this plane, or you just gonna stare at me all night?”
”We need to make a decision. I can either take you out of here handcuffed, as a prisoner, or you can agree to cooperate and we'll go to my car like friends. Which do you prefer?” ”You don't need the cuffs.” ”If you try to get away, you'll be hurt.” ”I know, I know. You proved that back in the bayou, didn't you? Well, I'll tell you something. I don't have to get away from you. They'll come for me. Wherever you take me, they'll come. I don't have to lift a finger-just wait and use my powers to call them.”
”Fancy car,” Alice said as Dukane climbed into the Jaguar beside her. ”Kidnapping must pay good.”
”Yep.” The car grumbled to life.
”How much did my folks pay you?”
”Enough.”
”Enough to die for?”
”That's not in my plans.”
”It's in mine. They'll have to die, too. Can't go messing with Laveda.”
”You're a sweetheart,” Dukane said. He backed out of the parking s.p.a.ce, and headed for the exit.
”Wouldn't want to be in your shoes, man.”
”I know. You're all powerful. You've drunk at the river.”
”f.u.c.kin' right.”
”Imagine. All that from drinking a gal's blood.”
”The blood is the life.”
”Where've I heard that before,” he said, and switched the radio on. He turned left onto Ocean Park Blvd.
”This isn't the way home.”
”I'm not taking you home. You've got a date with a certain Dr. T. R. Miles. He specializes in deprogramming screwed up kids.”
”Deprogramming?” She made a quiet, nasal laugh. ”What do you think I am, a Moonie?”
”I didn't hire him, your parents did. Far as I'm concerned, you and the rest of Laveda's gang ought to be burned at the stake.”
Her head jerked toward him.
”That's how the old-timers dealt with witches, I believe.”
”We're not witches,” she muttered.