Page 11 of One Last Promise

He took a step toward her, threw away the chicken leg, and wiped his arm on his sleeve. He wore a black nylon muscle shirt, a pair of track pants, kicks. Bald, but a thick black beard scrubbed his chin, and he’d easily put on thirty pounds of muscle in the five years since she’d last seen him.

Now he advanced at her, and she held up the hose.

He laughed. “You think a little water is going to stand between you and what’s mine?”

“It’ll slow you down.”

“Not even a little, honey.”

Then he leaped at her. She threw on the water, but like he said, it barely hiccupped his movement. It worked just enough for her to dodge him, though, to get a leg out and trip him. He went spinning into the ash and fire.

She took off for her car.

He rolled, shouted, cursed, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know he’d found his feet.

She hit the gate, pulled it shut, heard the latch fall and sprinted toward the Ford. Opened the door, slid in—C’mon, c’mon!

The engine whined, refused her, and in a second, he had yanked her door open.

He grabbed her arm, and she reached behind her with the other and got her hand on a book.

A hardbacked copy ofThe Black Stallion, worn and broken and her current read-aloud to Hazel.

As Rigger dragged her from the car, she nailed him on the side of the head.

He shook off the blow, although it did loosen his grip on her.

She rolled away, onto her feet, breathing hard.

It seemed thatsomebodyin this niceneighborhood might be calling the police, or the fire department. But then again, that would mean questions.

Still. She pulled her phone from her back pocket, backed away, pressing the emergency button.

“Really?” Rigger advanced on her, ripped the phone from her hand, threw it.

And then, even as she searched for it, he punched her.

Right in the jaw, and her face felt like it might explode. The punch turned her around, slammed her to the ground. Wiped thought from her brain.

Get up. A voice in her head screamed, and she listened, rolling to her knees.

He lunged at her, but she rounded, blocked his blow, put her fist into his face.

Bam!Now he was bloodied too.

It only turned him into a bull, rabid, and she saw it enter his eyes.

This was the look Pearl had warned her about. And of course she knew it—but she’d known him before, too, so?—

“Are you really going to kill me? Because you do and you’ll never find it. Never findher.” She backed up toward her car, and in the distance, a siren moaned.

Thank you, Meadow Creek Drive. Even if no one had the courage to come out of their house, someonehadcalled the cops. Or her emergency call had gone through?—

The siren stalled him, just for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “You can’t run from me anymore, Tillie. I want it back?—”

“I’ll give you the money, Rigger. Just . . . leave. Just leave us be.” She held up her hands, and they shook.

His smile ripped a chill through her.

---