Dead Certain - Mariah Stewart [75]
Amanda noticed that the light was blinking on the answering machine in the hallway when they came back down the stairs. She hesitated, then pushed play. Her dentist’s office, reminding her to call to make an appointment for a checkup. One of her young stepsisters calling to see if she wanted to be involved in plans for a sixtieth birthday party for their father. A hang-up call. Several colleagues who’d heard the news about Marian. Another hang-up. She hit the speaker and dialed the number for last incoming call.
“The number of your last incoming call is unknown.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, then gestured to Dana to go on out the front.
Dana paused at the door. “You going to set that alarm?”
“I can’t, not until I have the entire house rewired, which I haven’t been able to afford to do,” she said, thinking that now would be a good time to have it working. “It sure would come in handy, but unfortunately, the old wiring just sets it off. The alarm company started charging me for false alarms, so I disconnected it.”
Amanda locked the door and started across the porch, then stopped. “I meant to pick up a book while we’re here,” she told Dana. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“Well, here, give me that and I’ll put it in the car.” Dana reached up for the bag and caught Amanda’s easy toss.
Unlocking the door, Amanda stepped back inside. The house was still as a tomb. The unfamiliar scent lingered in the air. Was it more pronounced now? Stronger? Amanda shook her head. Impossible. She and Dana had just been all through the house. There was no one there.
She ran up the stairs and quickened her pace as she went into her bedroom. She went straight to the chair near the window and picked up the book she’d been reading before all of this started. Maybe she’d have time to read a little tonight while Greer was out. Maybe it would take her mind off—
Without warning, an arm snaked around her throat and tightened, abruptly cutting off her air. A rough hand covered her mouth and she bit down hard on a finger. Something hissed in her ear, and the hand that she’d bitten punched the side of her head once, twice.
Gasping for breath, blinking against the bright lights that exploded inside her head, she gathered all her strength and bucked forward, far enough to create space between her body and that of her assailant. One elbow sent sharply to his midsection surprised him, caused his grip to slacken enough that she could throw him off. He bounced backward and she spun on one foot, her weight and force centered in the leg and heel that landed a direct shot in his jaw. He howled, shoving her hard, and spun backward through the door, then took the stairs two at a time. She heard him hit the landing on both feet just as her head struck the side of the dresser.
“Son of a bitch,” she growled from between clenched teeth, and struggled to the top of the stairs. “Son of a bitch . . .”
She made it to the front door and all but fell down the steps.
“Jesus!” Dana yelled and dashed from the car. “What the hell . . .”
“He was inside . . . in the house . . .” Amanda gasped and slumped to the ground halfway across the lawn. “He was in there the whole time.”
Drawing her gun, Dana dashed into the house. Within minutes, she was running back down the driveway.
“He went out the back door, probably through the field and into the woods.” She reached into the car for her radio. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No. He roughed me up, that’s all. Surprised me, mostly.” She rubbed her throat. “Neck’s going to be sore. Head’s sore. Not as sore as he’s going to be, though.”
“You land a shot?”
“Right to the jaw.” She looked up and smiled. “With any real luck, I might have even broken it.”
“He’ll need it set, if that’s the case.” Dana nodded and turned her attention to the dispatcher as she called for backup.
Within minutes, the street was alive with activity, the woods swarming with officers searching for signs of Amanda’s assailant.
“Tell me again why you went into the house alone?” Sean stood next