Chapter 14

Hearing Dexter answer the phone at Aunt Betty’s drove such a deep chill into Rachel that she was momentarily paralyzed, as if she’d been hit with a blast of Siberian wind.

“Hello, Joy,” Dexter said, using her old first name. “Guess who?”

Rachel couldn’t speak. She could barely breathe, too; her breath came out of her dry lips in a low whistle. Dexter was at her aunt’s house. He would only be there to hurt her, and the phantom pain that had fanned across her head a few minutes ago might be only a hint of what he had done, or might do, to her Aunt Betty.

“I’ve been having a nice chat with Aunt Betty,” he said. “We’ve been catching up on family matters.”

Rachel’s knuckles, curled around the handset, throbbed. She could imagine Dexter at her aunt’s house with such clarity that she wondered if it were a vision of the actual scene, though her gift didn’t normally work in that manner.

He stands in the living room, tall and cruel, towering over Aunt Betty. He’s probably armed with a knife of some kind, as he’d always had a fascination with deadly blades, from Japanese samurai swords to daggers . . .

“Your aunt won’t tell me where you’ve gone,” he said. “I honestly don’t think she knows where you are. Smart of you, to keep your location secret from her.”

Rachel choked back a cry. But tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, forming a puddle on the desk.

Please, God, don’t let him hurt Aunt Betty. Please.

“Want to talk to her?” Dexter asked. “Here she is.”

After a moment of fumbling, Rachel heard her aunt on the line, breathing hard. “Muffin.”

At her aunt’s mention of her childhood nickname, Rachel nearly lost it. She clutched a fistful of her hair. A wall of tears had fallen over her eyes.

“Aunt Betty . . .” Rachel sobbed.

“Wherever you are, run away, Muffin,” Aunt Betty said, in a tight voice. “I love you . . . always . . .”

“I love you, always, too, oh, Jesus, please . . .”

“Run!”

“Aunt Betty, I’m sorry . . . I’m so sorry . . .”

“You’re going to be very sorry.” Dexter had come back on the line; in the background, Aunt Betty was weeping.

Rachel savagely wiped away her tears. “Leave her alone, you bastard. This has nothing to do with her.”

 “I disagree. Remember how much Aunt Betty despised me? Remember how she’d meddle in our business?”

“Dexter, please. I’m begging you. Please don’t hurt her.”

“Check this out, sweetheart.”

Suddenly, a thin wail pierced Rachel’s ear. Aunt Betty . . .

Rachel rocketed out of her chair and shrieked at Dexter as if they were in the same room. “Stop it!”

Her aunt’s scream warbled into dry, wracking sobs.

Rachel didn’t want to know what Dexter had done to her. Didn’t want to imagine. Although in her mind’s eye, she could envision it—and it was unspeakable.

“I’m going to find you,” Dexter said. “How’s that song go? Ain’t no mountain high enough . . . ain’t no valley low enough . . . to keep me from tracking your ass down, baby.”

Rachel shouted at him again. But he hung up.

She heard only the indifferent dial tone . . . and her aunt’s screams echoing in her ears.