Heartbreak Bay (Stillhouse Lake #5) - Rachel Caine Page 0,42

went up today on telephone poles in the neighborhood. Word’s getting out, Ms. Proctor. Ain’t no escaping it.”

“You’ve got surveillance in the parking lot. You could tell me who put them up.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am.”

Won’t, more like. I don’t push him. There’s no point. I pick up the flyer and ask if I can keep it; when he nods, I fold it and put it in my pocket. Then I let him write me out a refund check for the whole family’s fees, and I put it in my pocket too. I don’t say anything else, not even when he apologizes and offers to shake my hand. He’s trying to ease his own feeling of injustice, and I don’t want any part of that. I just nod and leave.

I can’t speak because if I do, I’ll scream.

Leaving the office, I walk right past Sam and the kids. I ignore his questioning look. I finally swallow and manage to say, “Let’s go,” and head toward the building’s exit.

Outside, the monster attacks. Not the physical kind of assault; this is far worse. I feel the panic of being outside, vulnerable, watched, hunted. My brain is reacting to a threat by dumping survival adrenaline into my blood at near-toxic levels, and there’s nothing for me to fight. Nothing but myself.

I can’t breathe. I try, but it feels like my diaphragm has frozen solid, like my lungs have filled with heavy ice. My pulse is pounding so hard I can’t hear anything else. I know I should control it, can control it, but nothing works. Nausea slides over me like grease, but I don’t even have the ability to vomit it out.

I collapse against the wall, gasping for air, and see Sam rushing to me. I read his lips as he crouches beside me. Breathe. Try to breathe. He turns his head, and I think he’s shouting at Lanny, who’s hovering a step behind, hands clenched into fists. She takes her phone out of her pocket and drops it, picks it up, finally makes the call. I want to say I’m okay, I need to, because I know I’m not having a heart attack, even though that’s how it feels.

I’m having a full-on panic attack. Haven’t had one in years.

I hear Melvin’s cold voice, clear as hail on the roof: I always knew you were weak. Look at you, you sniveling little wreck. You can’t protect our kids. You can’t even stand up.

I shut my eyes and search for peace in the storm. And this time, I hear different voices.

My daughter saying, “Mom? Mom, it’s okay, the ambulance is coming. Mom? It’s going to be okay.”

And my son’s unsteady, soft voice near my ear saying, “It’s okay, Mom. I understand.”

I know that he does most of all of us.

Feeling comes next. Sam’s arms around me. Lanny’s hand fever-warm against my face. Connor holding my hand.

The storm fades. Silence sets in.

I gasp in a sudden, convulsive breath. My head is spinning and aching, but I’m here. I’m with the people who love me. My circle of protection. It blindsides me that I’ve been so busy trying to protect all of them that I’ve utterly failed to protect myself.

I burst into tears and hug them close, all three of them. Vee’s hovering on the edges of this, part of it but separate, and I wish she’d come in, I wish I could be better, I wish this sudden, melting peace could last.

But I hear the siren of the ambulance coming, and I know it’s already starting to disappear.

The paramedics don’t find anything wrong with me, other than elevated blood pressure and low oxygen saturation, but they advise me to see my doctor about it. I thank them and wince at what this will cost us, but at the same time, Lanny did exactly the right thing. Better a bill than a funeral.

Sam’s standing with me as the ambulance pulls away. People in the parking lot and across the street are watching us, and I feel their eyes on me like groping hands. I suddenly, desperately want to be out of here. “We should go,” I say. “You drive.” I hand him the keys. He kisses me gently on the forehead, pulls back, and gives me a long and searching look. “What?”

“You’re all right,” he says, and I feel the quirk of his smile tug at something deep inside me. “And you’ll be all right.”

Lanny and Vee are standing near the SUV, shoulder to shoulder, and