If You're Out There(69)

Ben stands and I’m jolted awake. I leap to my feet and try to throw a jab, which he dodges. From the corner of my eye, I see Priya bend down to pick up the gun.

I charge at him again, but his wrist makes contact with my throat.

I clutch my neck—can’t breathe—and realize Reggie taught him that. Goddammit, Reggie! I jump back the moment he heaves an elbow toward my middle. I know the sequence. Windpipe, solar plexus, groin.

Ben smiles at me, abruptly wicked, and I scream as I attack again—provoking his response. I duck before he can make his move, and when he whips around to face me, I throw a body punch. He clutches his gut, coughing, and before he can straighten up, I sling a hook to the face that makes him cry out.

Blood gushes from his nose as he stumbles back. My first two knuckles seethe with pain, but I shake it off. “Zan!” calls Priya. “Run!”

She’s ahead of me, flinging herself up the stairs. I’m right behind her, almost to the top, when I collapse forward, my chin slamming into wood. I twist back to see his arms wrapped around my legs, pinning me there.

“Ben.” Priya looms above us at the top of the steps, framed by an open door, the gun pointed down. It’s a bizarre sight, to say the least. “You need to let her go now. Don’t make me use this. Please,” she says with quiet terror in her eyes. “I’m a fucking pacifist, but I’ll do it.”

After a moment, his arms go slack. Then I kick behind me, and he lets out a wail as I scramble up the steps. When I reach the light, Priya slams the door, flicking the lock.

We stand there a moment, heaving in the cozy living room. She peers down at the gun in her hands. I catch my breath, meeting her wide-eyed stare. And then, I shit you not, she laughs. “Holy guacamole,” she says, shaking her head.

She opens the gun’s chamber and lets the bullets slide into her palm.

I glance toward the foyer, suddenly aware of the banging sound coming from outside. Logan’s face peers in through a glass panel. “Zan? Zan!”

I run to open the door and Logan’s face falls as he touches my chin. I can already feel it swelling where it hit the stair.

“I’m fine.” He looks past me, still in shock, and Priya studies us quizzically. “Oh, sorry,” I say. “Priya, Logan; Logan, Priya.”

“Hi,” she says, with a slight, curious smile. “We better go. Can you call 911, Logan?” He nods quickly and gets out his phone. We’ve only made it a few steps when a rattling hum starts above us.

“Aw, crap,” says Priya.

I follow her gaze. It’s Amanda, cruising steadily down the banister on the seat of an electronic stair lift. “Priya dear? Is that you?” We wait for a good thirty seconds. The chair is quite slow. At the bottom, she unbuckles herself, takes hold of her walker, and frowns. “What’s going on? Who are these people?”

“We have to go,” says Priya.

“Hmm . . . No thank you,” she says, shuffling past without further discussion.

“Mom,” Ben calls from the other side of the basement door. He starts pounding. “Mom, I’m in here!” Logan walks out onto the front porch, plugging his ear to concentrate on the phone.

Amanda eyes the basement door, pondering a moment, before addressing Priya once more. “I think I’ll . . . go make some tea.”

“Mom!” Ben shouts as she shuffles away. A gas stove clicks in the other room and the doorknob to the basement jiggles. Priya and I both watch as something thwacks the wood from the other side, like Ben is throwing his body weight against it. The door doesn’t budge. “Goddammit, Mom!”

I nod toward the kitchen, incredulous. “So . . . She was here for all of this? Thanks a lot, Grandma.”

Priya sort of wavers. “Ben took all the phones from the house. And she wouldn’t have been able to get down the basement stairs. There were days I got the sense she was on my side. Hard to say, though. Amanda has dementia.”

“I most certainly do not,” Amanda calls from the kitchen.

Priya smiles. “Kind of goes in and out.”

“Police should be here any minute,” says Logan, returning inside.

Ben bangs on the door again. “Hey. Okay, hold on. Maybe we can work out a deal here.”

Priya shoots me a deadpan glance.

“So,” says Logan. “Should we . . . wait outside?”

Priya looks past him through the open door, and the gun falls from her hands, shooting a loud blank that makes me jump up with a shriek. My heart pounds as I follow Priya’s stare.

On the street, a man is hurrying out of his car, his dark eyes set on Priya. My pulse skyrockets. It’s him. The “family friend.” I rush to close the door, but Priya stops me.

“Zan!” she says, prying my fingers from the handle. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“It’s him!” I cry. “He’s after you!”

The man is standing over us now, his expression oddly gentle. I swallow.

“Priya,” he says softly. “Is that you?”

I feel my body go slack as she nods, with a weird glassy-eyed smile.

I search Priya’s face. I don’t understand.

“Um, Zan?” She bites her lip. “This . . . is my dad . . .”

The words take a moment to sink in. “Wait,” I say. “What?”