Page 85 of Justice for Samara

And what about Amy and Brooke? How were they? Were they seriously hurt? She feared the worst, knowing what he’d done to Mallory.

The car rolled along for a good distance, and then it stopped. She heard the door open and footsteps outside of the car, something that sounded like gravel under boots. Taking a piss, no doubt. Then she heard the footsteps again, and they stopped at the trunk of the car.

The lid opened and the bright sunshine blinded her for a few seconds. “Nothing to say, bitch?”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty to say, you rotting piece of possum shit,” she spat.Get him to lean down over you somehow, her brain whispered as she felt around for the screwdriver she’d found a little earlier. Once it was in her hand, she stared up at him. “But you’re not man enough to hear it.”

“I was man enough when I was giving it to you up that hot, tight little pussy of yours, wasn’t I, slut? Didn’t you get enough? Or do you want more?”

Piss him off, she told herself. “I don’t want any more of your microdick, you asshole.”

“Oh, is that right? How ’bout I drag you out of this car and show you what you’re missing, since your memory is faulty?” He grabbed her by the hair, pulled her upright, and dragged her out of the car until she was on her feet. “How’s that?”

In one fluid move, she whipped out her right hand and drove the screwdriver into the back of his neck. Stadler screamed out and reached for it, and that was all she needed.

Samara ran. She didn’t know where she was going, but she headed straight for a tree line and kept running. She could hear him cursing behind her, and then a shot rang out, but it was nowhere near her, so her feet kept pumping and she kept up the sprint, running faster than she’d ever run in her life. She crashed through the tree line and looked up to find dense woods straight ahead, barely fifty yards away, so she ran to her left, back to the tree line, and kept running along its edge until she reached the woods. Somewhere behind her she could hear him cursing and yelling, and his weapon discharged a couple more times, but it was far behind her.

Once she was a hundred feet into the woods, she stopped and listened. There wasn’t a sound. Was he right on top of her, watching her? Or had she run far enough? That thought flew right out of her head. There was no way she could have run far enough. She could never run far enough. So she took off again, letting the sun guide her away from the car.

When she came to an old wire fence, she managed to climb over it and keep going. The second one was harder to climb over, but she made it. She was tiring, and between that and the lack of water, she was slowing down. Something had to happen. There was no way she could keep it up. Her options seemed few, and she was about to tell herself that there was nothing else she could do. Then she heard a sound.

Through the trees, she could see half a dozen cows. As soon as she got to the edge of the woods, she looked again. There had to be twenty head of cattle there, big black cattle. Angus. She didn’t know a lot about cattle, but she did know that Angus cattle tended to be friendly to people, so she wasn’t afraid of them. Matter of fact, as she ran through the pasture, they didn’t seem to even notice her, and she decided they had to have come from somewhere nearby, so she headed directly to the ridge that cut off her line of sight from the land in front of her.

She crested the ridge and below it she could see a barn and a farmhouse. Help. She could get help there. A man stepped out of the barn, and just as he did, anotherpopsounded from behind her.

A burning sensation bloomed in the back of her right thigh, and she fell forward onto her stomach. One glance told her the farmer had headed toward the house, and her hopes shriveled up and blew away. He was afraid, and he was running away, leaving her there to die. Anotherpopsounded from behind her, but it didn’t make contact with her body, and she rolled to see where he was, hoping he was far enough away that she could gather whatever strength she had and still make an escape.

Across the wide field, AlexStadler staggered and stumbled, blood pouring down his right side from where the screwdriver had been. He seemed to more or less be in a stupor, and she was surprised he was still standing. As soon as she rolled back to her stomach, she heard the weapon discharge once again, but nothing hit her, so she decided it was do-or-die time.

Summoning every ounce of strength she could muster, Samara struggled to her feet and took off. It was more of a lope, but at least she was moving. The sound of a shot rang out again, and she felt the same burning sensation in her upper left arm, but she kept going. She was too far from the barn, and she knew without a doubt that when he reached the ridge, she’d still be out in the open. He’d have a clear shot at her, and he’d get her. As determined as he was, he wouldn’t miss that time.

But she ran anyway. There was no other choice. As she ran, she could feel the tears pouring down her face, knowing that she’d never see Michael again, that he’d live with all kinds of regret for what had happened to her. She hadn’t even had a chance to tell her family about him, or have them meet him. In her mind, she could see the house after it was finished, how proud he was to have such a beautiful home, and how proud she was to live there with him. She wanted a little vegetable garden, and a cat sitting on the porch. Maybe a dog, a little dog, some little wad of fur that she could cuddle and talk to when he was working and she was home, one that would keep him company when she was out working, and she smiled through her tears as she thought about how he’d probably arrange their schedules so they’d be off together. He could do that. He was, after all, the chief deputy. Carter would let him do anything he felt he needed to do. She had a wonderful man. She had a great boss and a job she loved. And she was losing it all, even as her legs kept moving while she was almost blind with fear, pain, and weariness.

No matter. She just kept going. She knew he was probably at the ridge, and it was only going to be another few seconds before he’d end her. There were sounds all around her?were they cows??and lights and movement, and she couldn’t make sense of any of them as she fell. Was she hurt? She wasn’t sure. She only knew she couldn’t go another step farther, and it was probably her time to die.

* * *

Michael wasin a complete state of panic. He wasn’t sure what was happening. How would he ever find her? He was driving toward Amy and Brooke’s house when the radio crackled. “Central dispatch calling TCSD, report of shooting at eighty-nine twelve Martinsburg Road. Repeat, report of shooting at eighty-nine twelve Martinsburg Road. Requesting police, emergency medical, and all support personnel at that address. Over.”

Eighty-nine twelve Martinsburg Road. Michael thought about it for a minute. He’d started out at the Bledsoe home. That was the closest to town. Then he’d gone to the Burgess house. That was a bit farther away, but on the same side of town. Suddenly, things started to make sense. He’d left the Burgess house, and he was probably sitting there waiting when Samara drove into Marjorie’s driveway, because the Edwards’ house was farther out than the Burgess house, but in the same direction. Then he’d stopped at the house on Martinsburg Road, which followed his pattern. He couldn’t remember that woman’s name but at the rate they were going it was sure to come across the radio at some point in the near future. He wracked his brain. Where was the fourth house, one whose occupant hadn’t been reinterviewed? The one farthest from town on that side? He hit the button on his radio’s mic. “This is TCSD unit one forty-eight. Desk at the office, please respond. Over.” It was quiet for a few seconds, then he repeated his call. “TCSD unit one forty-eight calling sheriff’s department main office. Any officer in the office, please respond. Over.”

“TCSD unit one forty-eight, this is main office,” he heard Carlin’s voice call through the radio.

“Call my phone, please, main office,” he instructed.

“Roger that.” In an instant, his phone rang. “Yeah?”

“Carlin, I need you to go to the conference room. There are two stacks of folders on the conference room table. Find the stack that has BrookeBurgess’ name on it.”

“Roger. Hang on.” It was quiet, too quiet, and Michael’s thoughts ran away with him. Then Carlin’s voice came back. “Okay. I’ve got two stacks here. The stack on the left has the Burgess woman’s name in it.”

“Who else is in that stack?”

“There’s a Bledsoe.”

“Yeah. That’s the right stack. Who else?”

“Um, there’s one here, a Fleming, on Martinsburg Road.”

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