Deadly Deception - By Andrea Johnson Beck Page 0,27
pushed the accelerator to the floor; a high-pitched sound echoed against the pavement. The smell of burnt rubber seeped into the car. Anne had no way of warning Carter of Adam’s knowledge of his existence. She could only hope he would reach out to her before it was too late.
CHAPTER 10
Anne tucked herself into the plush olive sofa, wrapping her body in a fatigued ball. Her eyes blinked heavily and wearily. The background noise of the television played in the distance as she drew closer to the dream realm. With all the madness circulating through her mind, the dreams quickly became nightmares.
Adam stood before her; his face distorted in rage, his shirt soaked with blood. He stepped closer to her and then pointed to his right. There laid Carter, dead, covered in blood. She screamed but nothing left her mouth and then Adam came toward her, placing his hands over her throat, choking every bit of oxygen out of her.
Anne threw herself up as she was coughing, gasping for air. She clutched her throat and looked around the dim room. Shadows swayed along the walls from the vivid glow of the television. Anne stood up and made her way to the kitchen to get a drink of water in hopes to recover a steady breathing pattern. Gulping down half a bottle of water, she inhaled deeply a few more times, gathering her composure. Almost hoping that Carter was lurking around, she peered out of the kitchen window but saw nothing except a couple walking toward the building, laughing, holding onto one another.
Early evening was setting in and the five o’clock news was starting. Anne placed her water on the table beside her and turned up the volume on the television. On the bottom of the screen it read BREAKING NEWS; a petite brunette news anchor was standing outside a two-story brick home that had been roped off by yellow police tape.
“Police say that thirty-three-year-old Sam Goodman was gunned down outside his Woodbury home shortly after four o’clock this afternoon. Neighbors say that a white or silver sedan stopped in front of the house while Goodman was outside. The gunman opened fire, shooting six rounds, and then sped away.”
Anne could still see the anchorwoman’s mouth moving but it was all moving in slow motion. They flashed a picture of Sam on the screen with his wife and daughter.
“Goodman is survived by his wife and eighteen-month-old daughter. Police are still here at the scene investigating and questioning his wife and neighbors, trying to find out who would want to brutally murder this quiet suburban family man in broad daylight. Back to you, Chris and Marsha.”
Anne’s breathing was labored. She struggled to stand on her unsteady legs, pushing them toward her bedroom. Tears ran down her face; whimpers ricocheted through the vague room. Fumbling for the switch on her small lamp she fell in front of her nightstand. Shaking frenziedly, she attempted to read the labels on the prescription bottles.
Spilling out moans of frustration, she popped open the white ribbed cap and a dozen small pink pills dribbled out onto the floor. Her fingers grasped one and she shoved it down her throat, swallowing hard, praying for the little dustings of medication to flow through her veins and shut off the neurons that were causing her body to convulse with panic.
***
Lying face down on her hardwood floor, staring at the family of dust bunnies that inhabited the space under the bed, her breathing began to slow; her pulse calmed. The darkness she once ran toward had now spilled out into her reality; that dark place was here, living and breathing like the self-destructive monster it was.
Feeling the vibrations on the floor of passing trucks and neighbors moving furniture soothed her. Then she heard what sounded like a tapping noise. Lifting her unsteady head to try to focus her hearing on the sound and realizing someone was at her door lightly knocking, she heaved her body up as carefully as she could. Her vision laced with vertigo, reaching out to the walls to guide her to the door, she heard the tapping noise once again.
“Anneliese, open the door or I’m coming in.”
Coordinating her muscles to unlatch the locks took immense concentration, but once she swung the door open she fell right into Carter’s arms, sobbing into his chest. He shut the door with his foot and pulled her further inside, stroking her tangled locks.
“Shhhhhh, my Anneliese. It’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating in