Page 44 of Finding Silence
“I guess you didn’t see the lawyer’s email asking for the account number?”
“Haven’t looked at emails at all. Not in a while.”
My eyes dart to the living room where I keep my laptop, only to remember the sheriff still has it. Then I glance around for my phone, but I probably left that in the pants I just tossed in the hamper. I should probably fish it out and charge it before I go to bed.
At the thought of bed, I instantly yawn. I’m so tired.
“I can stop in at the bank tomorrow,” I suggest, yawning again.
A quick glance at the clock shows it to be only a few minutes past nine, but I don’t care, I need some rest.
“I’m sorry, I’m turning in early,” I announce with an apologetic smile. “It’s been an eventful few days.”
Grace smiles back, waving off my apology. “By all means.”
When I start cleaning up the crackers and cheese, she stops me.
“I’ll take care of that. You get some rest.”
“I should set the alarm,” I point out.
“I’ve got that too,” she assures me. “Go to bed.”
“Give me a chance to close my windows first.”
She gives me a thumbs-up.
Just before I duck into the hallway to my bedroom, I poke my head back into the kitchen.
“You’re a lifesaver, Grace Pallatino, I know I don’t tell you enough how much I appreciate you.”
She seems startled and almost looks angry when she turns her eyes to me, but it’s only a flash, an instant later she’s cracking a smile.
“Whatever.”
Walking down the hall, I can still catch a hint of that persistent pot smell the bleach hasn’t been able to completely wash out. Still, I close the window in the bathroom, then brush my teeth and wash my face, before doing the same in the bedroom. I remember to grab my jeans from the hamper to check my pockets for the phone, but it’s not there. I’ll have to find it tomorrow, because I don’t feel like looking tonight.
I turn on the small light on my nightstand, and flick off the overhead light. But when I move to the bed, something slams into my back with the force of a freight train, lifting me clear off my feet. I land face down on the bed, pressed down by a heavy weight on my back.
At first, I’m too shocked to react, but then I get a whiff of skunk the moment before an arm slips around my neck and a familiar voice whispers in my ear.
“I fucking warned you, didn’t I?”
The sound of his voice sparks a rage inside me, triggering my fight response. I try to scream, but all I produce is a muffled, strangled whimper, before his hold on my throat tightens. I struggle against the force keeping my head and torso pinned to the mattress, but manage to get my knees under my body.
With every bit of strength I can muster, I buck my hips and try to roll us over. I only partially succeed, freeing one arm, but it’s enough to scratch and claw at whatever part of him I can reach.
“Hold still, bitch,” he hisses, trying to stay out of my reach.
The moment he shifts, I’m able to plant my foot in the mattress and heave him off me. I’m gasping for air so I can scream, as I try to get away from him, but he doesn’t give up easily and grabs onto my ankle. Flipping on my back I have both hands free now and launch an attack on his face with one, gouging him with my nails, while I reach for the bedside lamp with the other.
No sooner have my fingers wrapped around the base, when a flash of steel has the blood freeze in my veins.
A rivulet of blood is running down from the corner of his eye where one of my nails found purchase. When he presses the tip of his blade in the hollow at the base of my neck and smiles, his teeth are stained red.
I don’t even recognize the man anymore. His face is gaunt and sunken in, his eyes wild and almost vibrating in their sockets. He’s tripping bad on something.
“What are you doing, Duncan?” I manage on a rasp, hoping to reach the friend he once was.
