Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [121]
“Bastard!” she roared, and slammed his face again.
Blood ran from his broken nose and his mouth.
“You bastard!” she screamed, and hit him across the shoulders when again he sought to rise.
Every emotion that had been tucked away inside her since her mother’s death exploded. The torment she’d suffered, the double pain of loss and the terrible business of dealing with the aftermath of a loved one’s suicide, the overwhelming sense of guilt, of not having done enough, not having been enough, to have kept her mother tethered to this world—all surfaced in one massive, unstoppable swell. Wild-eyed, she fought him furiously until the paddle cracked, then broke, and even then she fought him with her hands and her fists, until he fell back, his head cracking against the side of the burned-out barn.
Her breathing labored, her lungs in agony, her face wet with tears, she stumbled, exhausted, to the canoe and untied the rope from the bow with rapidly swelling fingers, several of which were broken though she was not yet aware of the pain. Adrenaline had carried her beyond her physical limits, but was beginning to abate. Still, she could not, would not, permit him to get away. Staggering back to where he lay, she rolled him over and tied his hands behind his back in a tight knot. She tried dragging him to the canoe, but he was too tall and too heavy for her to budge him.
“Hell with it,” she mumbled, and walked on unsteady feet to the canoe. Zach could awake in the dirt, as she had earlier, and wait for the police to come for him.
With the broken paddle and bloodied hands, she headed for home, weeping as she thought of her mother’s last moments, stunned by the unexpected confirmation that she’d been right all along, that Elisa had not taken her own life, had not chosen to leave her. Now she had proof. Kendra clung to this unexpected treasure, this newly found truth, and it warmed her and gave her the strength to keep on moving toward her home.
What, she wondered as she found her way through the ever-thickening smoke, would she find when she got there?
Chapter
Twenty-three
The flames licked at the roof of Smith House, plumes of water chasing them higher as hoses trained on those not-yet-ignited parts of the house sought to contain the blaze. Drawing water from the stream, the firefighters did their best to douse the fire and to save as much of the historic house as possible.
Adam had arrived as the first pumper had set up and the hoses were being brought to the water’s edge. The sight of flames shooting from the roof of the beautiful old house saddened him, but that it was Kendra’s house, the house that symbolized all she had left of her family, sickened him.
But where was Kendra? His eyes scanned the landscape again, but she was nowhere to be seen.
He’d started across the yard when he was struck by the unthinkable. Was Kendra in the house?
He threw his jacket on the ground and rolled up his sleeves as he crossed the yard, yelling to the crew frantically attempting to put out the fire that had spread to the back porch, limiting their access to the source of the blaze.
“Is she here?” Adam demanded of the first man he reached.
“Haven’t seen her” was the reply.
“Are you a friend of Kendra’s?” A man wearing a black shirt and a worried expression grabbed Adam’s arm.
“Yes. Have you seen her?” Adam tried to push the man aside.
“I’m Father Tim.” The priest sought to calm him. “I’m a friend, as well.”
“What are the chances she’s inside?” Adam fought to control his emotions.
“We don’t know.” The priest shook his head and continued with his tasks. If Kendra was inside the burning house, the best thing they could do for her—the only thing they could do for her—was to extinguish the fire and get her out. “Pray that she isn’t.”
A frantic Adam drew as close to the house as he could, seeking a possible safe entry, but as yet there was none. He grabbed a portion of hose and held on as the water pressure built before hitting the house with a blast. When enough of the flames had been subdued, he started up the