Don't Make a Sound (Sawyer Brooks #1)(77)

Ridiculous. Why would Mom do that? She tried to ask him, but the words came out garbled.

“It must be a lot for you to take in, I know. Don’t frown,” he said. “Yes, I was young, but I hated those girls. Your mom told me that I needed to punish them for humiliating me. She was right. I was slow, and I had a stutter back then, remember? They made fun of me. I was big for my age. Peggy was a tiny thing, fourteen and skinny as a string bean. She was standing by the river’s edge, and I just walked right up to her and bashed her head in with a hammer. Four years later, I did it again.”

Her mom was insane. How could Sawyer not have seen what she was capable of before now? She tried to move. Impossible. She screamed, but a tiny squeak was all that came forth.

Aspen shrugged. “No big deal. I guess your dad was no better than Uncle Theo. Whenever Harper had friends over, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself, so your poor mom had to cover all the bases.” He stopped talking long enough to brush a hand over her face. “Such smooth, pretty skin.”

A chill crept up her spine. Aspen killed those girls? He’d had a learning disability back then, and she’d witnessed him being bullied. He’d been bigger than the other kids but hadn’t known how to use his size to keep the bullies away. She’d felt sorry for him.

Sawyer’s jaw tightened. How long before she would regain movement? Five minutes? Ten?

He shimmied downward across the mattress so that he didn’t need to crook his neck while he looked her in the eye, their noses touching. She pretended to be loopier than she felt. She wanted to bite him, dig her teeth into his flesh and make him bleed. But it wouldn’t be enough, so she lay still.

“I love you,” he said. “I always have. You were always so kind. I think your mom knew I liked you and used it against me.” He smiled. “I didn’t mind, though. I fixed up this house for you. For the longest time I didn’t know how I was going to get you here, but when an idea finally struck, it was like an explosion of fireworks going off inside my head. I knew Gramma Sally needed to die. I still wonder why it took me so long to think of it.”

His hand came to rest on her backside, slid slowly over her, shaking slightly from nerves. “You’re so beautiful.” His lips touched her forehead.

Her stomach churned. There was nothing she could do to stop him. He was in full control, and he knew it. “Don’t feel bad about Gramma Sally,” he said. “She was ready. I swear she looked relieved when I picked up the pillow and put it against her face. Hardly took any time at all. It was a peaceful death.”

It was all too much. He’d killed Gramma Sally in hopes she would come back, and she’d fallen right into his trap. He had caused so much pain.

“Don’t worry. I won’t torture you like I did Isabella. I care too much about you.” He sighed. “If you would have just spent a little time with me, I know things would have turned out so much differently. I would have spent a lifetime worshipping you.”

She couldn’t listen to any more of his bullshit. A rush of adrenaline swept through her, giving her the strength to pull her knees upward and use her legs to shove him to the floor.

Scrambling off the bed, she wobbled on her feet, grabbed the lamp from the bedside table, and slammed it against his head.

He fell back with a groan, but it wasn’t enough. He was still moving.

Dazed, he pushed himself to his knees.

She had gotten as far as the bedroom door when she felt his fingers curl around her ankle. She pushed the door forward then yanked it back, slamming it into his head.

He released his hold along with a horrified scream.

She ran through the kitchen, heard him thrashing about, shouting for her to stop, telling her she could never leave him.

Stumbling along, she made it out the door, didn’t dare look back. In the car, her right arm refused to cooperate. She had no choice but to use her left hand to put the key in the ignition and turn it. The engine rattled and died. No. No. No. Not now!

She turned the key again. Nothing.

Aspen flew out of the house, his face bloodied. He took the three steps leading from the door to the walkway in one leap.

She turned the key for the third time.

The engine roared. Aspen’s truck was parked in front of her car. She put the car in reverse and slammed her foot on the gas pedal. Aspen dodged the wheels and reached for the back door. She sped forward and rammed into the back of his truck.

Fuck!

She hadn’t meant to put that much speed into it. She hurried and locked the doors right before he grabbed the passenger door handle and jiggled it, the veins in his neck straining as he punched at the windows with his bare knuckles.

She backed up again, went too far, slammed into a neighbor’s car, jerked forward.

Aspen stood in front of her car looking at her through the windshield. He wasn’t giving up. The determination in his eyes was frightening.

He would never stop.

She would spend a lifetime looking over her shoulder.

She thought of Gramma Sally, Peggy, Avery, and Isabella as she revved the engine. Letting out a guttural roar, she pressed her foot down hard on the gas and sped forward. She hit him straight on, pinned him between her car and his truck.

His eyes remained fixated on hers.

The tires were spinning, the undercarriage creaking from the stress as acrid smoke filled the air around them.