Page 105 of An Evil Heart
A burst of energy courses through me. As he leans over me, I draw back and drive my fist into his crotch. A guttural sound grinds from his throat. Clutching his groin, he goes to one knee. I’m ready and kick him away with my right foot.
He reels sideways. I scramble left, dive toward the space beneath the bed. His hand slams down on my back. His fingers latch on to my waistband. I make a wild grab for the pistol, but he yanks me back. I twist, draw back, punch him in the mouth hard enough to cut my knuckles. His face is red, cheeks suffused with blood and slick with sweat. Mouth open, a string of drool hanging down. Murderous eyes on mine.
“You bitch!”
I twist, scramble to my feet, lurch toward my radio.
Graber lunges at me, makes a grab. I abandon the radio, rush the door, go through. Slam it. No lock.Shit.Then I’m down the hall. In the living room. I glance through the window.Where’s Mona?The pound of feet behind me.
I dart toward the front door, twist the knob, find it locked. Horror flashes at the sight of the double-cylinder dead bolt. I think about throwing myself through the window and running to the Explorer. But I don’t know if Graber has my gun. No time to debate.
I pivot right, burst into the kitchen. I lunge to the back door, yank it open. Then I’m across the porch, take the steps in a single leap. I’m in the backyard. Outbuilding to my right. Aboveground pool on my left. Cornfield straight ahead.
“You fucking bitch!”
Graber’s voice. A few yards behind me. I tear across the yard. Arms pumping. Boots pounding. I plunge into the cornfield. A blur of yellow stalks. I sprint down the row, cut right, plow across six rows, keep going. I need to circle around, get to the Explorer, my radio and shotgun. Warn Mona that he’s armed.
The stalks are six feet tall, making it difficult to see. Leaf blades slash at my face as I run. I look behind me, but there’s no sign of Graber. I listen for movement, but the blood racing through my veins roars like a jet engine. I cut over two more rows, go left.
“You know I can outrun you!”
Despite the sweat pouring down my back, gooseflesh rises on my arms. He sounds crazed. Out of control.
I struggle to keep my bearings as I run. Concentrate on putting distance between me and Graber, but at the same time I’m getting farther from the Explorer. My best hope is to loop around and get behind him.
I pour on the speed. Cut over a dozen rows. I stop and listen. A stalksnaps nearby. Graber is in good physical condition. Younger. Faster. He can probably outdistance me. I need my radio. A weapon.
I slow my pace, change direction, start back toward the house and my Explorer. I try to stay silent, listening, but the dry stalks crackle. I cut over two more rows. Break into a jog, keep going. Ahead, I see the chimney of the house. The top of the tree in the yard. Two hundred feet to go. Almost there.
Over the pounding of my heart, I hear the crunch of tires on gravel. Mona, I realize. Relief courses through me. I quicken my pace, eyes scanning left and right. I’m pretty sure Graber is behind me now. Several rows over. The house is a straight shot, dead ahead.
I sidle between two stalks and stop, listen. No sign of Graber. I look over my shoulder. Adrenaline explodes in my chest at the sight of him, the crossbow leveled at me.
“There you are,” he says.
I hear thetoing!of the bow being fired.
CHAPTER 28
The world stops. A hard punch of terror. A sound escapes me as I spin. Pain slashes my left shoulder. The guitar-string whine of the bolt as it whizzes past. Then I’m running full out. Adrenaline pushing me. Arms outstretched.
“Mona!”I scream. “Graber! He’s armed!”
I pray she can hear me.
I plunge to the row on my left. Continue at breakneck speed. I don’t have to look to know Graber is reloading. A crossbow isn’t as fast as a rifle. But fast enough that I won’t be able to put enough distance between us to avoid being shot again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see blood on my biceps. Pain throbs, but somehow, I don’t really feel it. A stalk cracks behind me. No time to look. I dodge left, plunge ahead. Running blind. Too fast. Don’t misstep. Don’t fall.
“He’s armed!” I shout.
I burst from the cornfield, in the backyard, running as fast as I can. I hear Graber behind me. Too close. I zigzag to make myself a more difficult target, but I’m not doing a good job of it. I feel the bull’s-eye on my back, like a neon light. Panic an inch away.
Thetoing!of the crossbow sounds. The bolt whirrs to my left, strikes the house. I veer right. Praying he can’t reload before I go around the corner of the house.
“Mona!” I scream. “Wayne Graber! He’s armed!”
Toing!
