A Stranger on the Beach(68)

“You have to leave, Aidan. Go out the back, down to the beach. He can’t know you’re here.”

“He will know. My truck’s in the driveway.”

“I’ll think of a way to explain the truck. He doesn’t know who you are. He’d never know it’s yours.”

“I can’t leave you alone with him.”

The husband pounded on the door. “Caroline! Let me in, now!”

“Please, I’m begging you,” she said. “Let me handle him. I don’t think he’d hurt me. But if he sees you here, I don’t know what he’ll do.”

Aidan felt wrong abandoning her to that brute at the door. But his thoughts were scrambled, and he felt confused and exhausted at the same time. He’d go outside and let the rain lash his face and wake him up. Then he’d sneak around to the front door and jump that asshole from behind.

His coat and shoes were back near the front door.

“My shoes—”

“There’s no time. Go!” Caroline said.

She opened the French doors and shoved him from behind. Aidan stumbled out into the stormy night, barefoot, fighting against the wind.





43


The power had come back on. The lights were on in my bedroom, and Frank Sinatra crooned from the speakers in the ceiling. I was afraid to speak or move. I lay paralyzed, the blood pounding in my veins, my eyes glued to the gun that Aidan cradled in his lap. I remembered picking it up that day at his apartment, the deadly weight of it in my hands. It was pitch-dark outside. The wind shook the windows, and the thought crossed my mind that I might die here tonight. Was Aidan capable of killing me, or did he merely want to frighten me into submission? I couldn’t know for sure, but I had to assume the threat was real. Failing to take him seriously could mean my death.

I moved to get out of the bed and he shifted suddenly in the chair, thrusting the gun toward me.

“Stay there,” he said.

His eyes seemed unfocused, like something was knocked loose inside. How had I ever found this man attractive? I looked at him now and all I saw was crazy. And crazy was a problem—a big problem. A regular guy who got rejected might come after me. He might hurt me, even kill me. But Aidan had gone after my family. My sister. My daughter. That he knew about them at all, that he had a motive to hurt them—that was on me. In order to protect them, to make this up to them, I had to take responsibility for stopping him, even at the risk of my life. But how? I was unarmed and helpless. He was bigger than me. He was blocking the door. And he had a gun. My only hope was to get him talking and play for time, until I found an opening to escape.

I cleared my throat, which was dry with fear.

“How—how did you get in here?” I asked Aidan.

The answer was obvious. He’d broken in, and not for the first time. My alarm went off earlier tonight. It went off last week, and the police supposedly were dispatched and found nothing amiss. The police, right. Tommy Callahan. The cavalry wasn’t going to burst in and save me. They were on the gunman’s side.

“How did I get in?” Aidan said. “You let me in.”

“No, I didn’t. I was sleeping.”

“You invited me in, Caroline. You left the door open for me. You want me here. Admit it to yourself.”

My face flushed with the effort of controlling my temper. I don’t want you here. I hate you, you lunatic. You belong in jail, or in the psych ward. Or better yet, dead. I had to take a deep breath before I could speak.

“Maybe I did leave the door unlocked. It wasn’t intentional. I’m not sorry you’re here, though. There are things I need to say to you.”

“Oh, now you talk to me. After you ignored me for so long? How many messages did I leave? You blocked my number. That’s disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t nice of me to block your calls. I should have been up front with you and told you that your conduct was unacceptable. You did some terrible things—”

“Shut up. I’m not interested in hearing you trash me. That’s over.”

“Aidan—”

“I’m done listening. I hold the gun. I’m the boss now, and I say what happens. Take the blanket off. Show me what you’re wearing. I want to see your body.”

I didn’t move. He pointed the gun at me.

“Do what I say,” he said.

I drew the covers back, showing off my sweatpants and loose-fitting T-shirt.

“Happy now?”

“Don’t provoke me. Take it off.”

His mouth was a grim line. If I didn’t figure out a way to distract him, he’d be on me in seconds. In the heat of the moment, I heard my father’s voice. The best defense is a good offense. I had to stop cooperating in my own destruction. I needed to stop acting afraid, to assert control, to throw him off balance. Most of all, I had to figure out a way to get out of this room.

“Why should I, you pervert?” I said. “You went after my daughter. Something’s wrong with you. You’re sick.”

The surprise in his eyes was gratifying to see.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he said. “I didn’t go after her. She came on to me.”

“A mother and daughter. What is that, some kind of perverted fetish?”