Hush: A Novel - By Kate White Page 0,118

ground.

Involuntarily Lake moaned. Rory was going to kill her. Lake had to get out of the basement somehow.

She sensed she was starting to regain strength in her arms and her legs—probably because she’d only drunk a little of the tea—but she couldn’t let Rory know. She had to outsmart her. Instinctively Lake’s eyes glanced from Rory’s face to her large hands. Would Rory try to stab her—like she’d done to Keaton?

Rory snickered. “No, I don’t have a knife, Lake,” she said, clearly having caught the movement of Lake’s eyes. “I can’t have a bloodbath in my basement. Blood does not come out of cement, trust me.”

In a flash she was on top of Lake, yanking her by the jersey shirt she wore. Rory twisted the fabric around her fist and began to drag her across the floor. She was strong, stronger than Lake could have imagined. Where is she taking me? Lake thought frantically. She let her body go limp, pretending she was still immobilized, but her eyes shot ahead. Then she saw it. Rory was dragging her to the freezer.

29

SHE’S GOING TO lock me in there, Lake realized. She would die from cold and suffocation, and no one would ever know what happened to her. Her kids would spend the rest of their lives haunted by her disappearance.

In her terror, she felt the urge to protest and to struggle, but she fought the instinct. She had to let Rory think she was power-less to help herself. Her eyes shot around the basement, searching. She needed a weapon, something to strike Rory with. But there was nothing.

They reached the freezer. Rory dropped her to the ground, hard, and lifted the lid. Lake could feel a scream forming in her throat, something primitive and terrified, but she didn’t let it free. She tried to wiggle her feet. The muscles were weak, but she could move them now.

Rory spun around and this time grabbed Lake under the arms from behind. She hoisted her up and flopped her torso over the side of the freezer. As a blast of cold air hit her from below, Lake reached out her arms to catch herself. Her hands hit something hard and ice cold—packages of frozen food, she thought. With her right hand she grasped one of them. It was slippery and sharp on the edges and she had to hold it tightly. As Rory tried to hoist Lake’s right leg into the freezer, Lake twisted around and smashed the frozen package into Rory’s face.

The blow sent Rory reeling backward. Her body still weak, Lake took a clumsy step forward and hit Rory again. This time Rory tottered against the basement wall and crumbled to her knees, holding her belly. Lake staggered toward the stairs and, using her hands to help, half-crawled to the top. The door to the kitchen was open. Please, please let there be a lock, she pleaded. Below her she could hear Rory begin to wail in protest. Lake reached the top of the stairs, lurched into the brightly lit kitchen and slammed the door. There was a lock—a bolt. She shoved it into place.

To her relief she saw that her purse was on the table where she’d left it. She threw the strap of her purse over her head and stumbled into the living room. As she made her way unsteadily to the front door, she dug first for her car key and then her BlackBerry. A dull thudding sound echoed through the house. It was Rory banging on the door from the basement.

Lake hit 911 on her phone. The operator answered in two rings.

“Someone is trying to kill me,” she said.

“Please tell me your location.”

“Uh—Red Fox Road. Two seventy-one, I think.”

“Are you in imminent danger?”

Lake swung the front door open with her free hand. It was still raining, a steady downpour that sounded like water pouring over a dam.

“Yes, but I’ve locked her in the basement.”

“Help is on the way. Please stay on the line until the police arrive.”

“I can’t. I have to get to my car.”

She tossed the BlackBerry in her purse and clumsily jammed her feet into her clogs, which she’d left by the entrance. She groped her way down the front steps and around the side of the house. She hit the unlock button on the key and the car lights flashed, beckoning her. She began to stagger across the yard.

Whatever adrenaline had saved her in the basement was used up, and she felt weary again, light-headed.

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