“I’m going to get you some water. Mike’s right here,” Maureen told her.
He knelt down in front of her. Such a good face, Abra thought as her breathing labored. A caring face with dark puppy-dog eyes.
“The power’s out,” she said, almost absently.
“No, it’s not.”
“At Bluff House. The power’s out. It was dark. He was in the dark. I didn’t see him.”
“It’s all right. The police are coming, and you’re all right.”
She nodded, staring into those puppy-dog eyes. “I’m all right.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“He . . . He had his arm tight, tight around my throat, and my waist, I think. I couldn’t breathe, and I got dizzy.”
“Honey, there’s blood on you. Will you let me take a look?”
“It’s his. I hit him in the face. I did SING.”
“You what?”
“SING,” Maureen said as she came in with a glass of water in one hand, a glass of whiskey in the other. “Self-defense. Solar plexus, instep, nose, groin. Abra, you’re a miracle.”
“I didn’t think. I just did it. I must’ve given him a nosebleed. I don’t know. I got loose, and I ran. I ran out and came here. I feel . . . a little sick.”
“Sip some water. Slowly.”
“Okay. All right. I need to call Eli. He needs to know.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Mike told her. “Just give me the number, and I’ll take care of it.”
Abra sipped, breathed, sipped again. “It’s on my phone. I didn’t take my phone. It’s at home.”
“I’ll get it. I’ll take care of it.”
“I didn’t let him hurt me. Not this time.” Abra clamped a hand on her mouth as the tears came. “Not this time.”
Maureen sat beside her, drew Abra into her arms and rocked.
“Sorry. Sorry.”
“Shh. You’re okay.”
“I am okay.” But Abra held tight. “I should be dancing. I didn’t fall apart—until now. I did everything right. He didn’t hurt me. I didn’t let him hurt me. It just . . . it brings it back.”
“I know.”
“But that’s done.” She eased back, rubbed tears away. “I handled it. But for God’s sake, Maureen, somebody broke into Bluff House. I don’t know where they were or what they were doing. I didn’t notice anything out of place, but I only went up to the gym, into the kitchen. I nearly went into the basement to check the generator, but . . . He could’ve been down there. He must’ve cut the power to get in. The power was down. I—”
“Drink this now.” Maureen pushed the whiskey into her hand. “And just take it slow.”
“I’m all right.” She took a slow sip of whiskey, breathed out when it ran warm down her sore throat. “It started to storm, and I couldn’t remember if I’d closed all the windows. It nagged me, so I drove down. I just thought the power had gone out. I didn’t see him, Maureen, or hear him. Not with the rain and the wind.”
“You made him bleed.”
Calmer now, Abra looked down. “I made him bleed. Good for me. I hope I broke his goddamn nose.”
“I hope so, too. You’re my hero.”
“You’re mine. Why do you think I came straight here?”
Mike came back in. “He’s on his way,” he told them. “And the police are headed down to Bluff House. They’ll be here to talk to you after they do whatever they do.” He walked over, handed Abra a sweatshirt. “I thought you might want this.”
“Thanks. God, Mike. Thanks. You’re the best.”
“That’s why I keep him.” After a bolstering pat of her hand on Abra’s thigh, Maureen rose. “I’m going to make coffee.”
As she walked out, Mike crossed over to turn off the TV. He sat, took a sip of Abra’s whiskey. Smiled at her.
“So, how was your day?” he asked, and made her laugh.
Eight
ELI MADE IT FROM BOSTON TO WHISKEY BEACH IN UNDER two hours. He’d driven in then out of the teeth of the storm as it blew south. The twenty-minute hell he’d navigated in its center helped keep his mind focused.
Just drive, he’d told himself. And don’t think outside of the car and the road.
Little fingers of fog swirled up from the road as he barreled through the village. Streetlights threw out wavery beams to glisten on puddles, on streams snaking into gutters, then he was out of the lights, away from the storefronts and restaurants and taking the curve on the beach road.
He yanked the wheel, swung to the shoulder in front of Laughing Gull. Even as he strode toward