Page 17 of If She Stayed
She had been reading for about ten minutes when she first noticed that something felt different.The words on the page seemed to be moving slightly, and she had to blink several times to bring them back into focus.
She set down her mug and rubbed her eyes, assuming the strain of the emotional evening was affecting her vision.But when she picked up the book again, the sensation of movement persisted, and she began to feel slightly dizzy.
Her stomach suddenly clenched with a sharp, twisting pain that made her gasp and double over.The book fell from her hands onto the coffee table as another wave of nausea washed over her, more intense than anything she'd ever experienced.
Something was very wrong.
Jennifer tried to stand up from the sofa, thinking she might need to get to the bathroom (andfast), but her legs felt weak and unsteady.The room seemed to be tilting around her, and her throat was beginning to feel tight and constricted.
"Rick," she called out, but her voice came out as barely more than a whisper.The tightness in her throat was getting worse, making it difficult to speak or breathe properly.
The stomach pain intensified, radiating through her entire torso with a burning sensation that made her cry out softly.She tried to stand one more time, but her legs wouldn't support her weight.With a whimper, she collapsed forward off the sofa onto the hardwood floor.
The impact sent a shock of pain through her knees and hands, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her stomach and the terrifying sensation that her throat was closing up.She tried to call for Rick again, but only managed a strangled whisper.Her vision was beginning to blur, and she could feel her heart racing as panic set in.She needed help, needed Rick to come downstairs and find her, but she couldn't make enough noise to wake him.
As she struggled to breathe through her constricted throat, Jennifer became aware of a shadow falling across her field of vision.Someone was standing over her, blocking the light from the table lamp.Rick…?
No, it wasn’t Rick.She could tell this even as her vision was darkening around the edges and her body felt increasingly heavy and unresponsive.The shadow seemed to shift and move closer, but Jennifer could no longer focus her eyes well enough to make out any details.
The burning pain in her stomach was spreading through her entire body now, and the tightness in her throat made each breath a desperate struggle.She could hear a strange buzzing sound that might have been coming from inside her own head, and the room was spinning even though she was lying still on the floor.
Jennifer tried one more time to call out for help, but no sound emerged from her constricted throat.
Her last coherent thought was a desperate wish that Rick would come downstairs for some reason—foranyreason.The house was completely silent except for the sound of her own labored breathing, which was becoming fainter and more erratic with each passing moment.
The world went black as Jennifer's body finally stopped fighting against whatever was tearing her apart.She could only lie there helplessly, struggling for breath at the feet of the watchful shadow that observed her final moments.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kate's phone buzzed on her nightstand, dragging her from a deep sleep.She fumbled for the device, noting the time was 6:17 AM before seeing DeMarco's name on the screen.She answered with a bleary, “Good morning, DeMarco.”
"Kate, I'm sorry to wake you."Her voice was tense with urgency."But it looks like we have another body."
Kate sat up immediately, her mind snapping to full alertness."What are the details?"
"The victim is Jennifer Haynes, another local...and if I remember correctly a—”
“A member of the book club,” Kate finished.“Jesus, I just saw her last night.”
“Well, her husband found her dead in their living room about an hour ago.I'm heading to the scene now."
The reality of the situation hit Kate like a cold shock.Jennifer Haynes, the emotional woman from last night's book club meeting who had said a few kind things about Margaret Carlisle.The woman who claimed to have developed a growing friendship with their first victim.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," Kate said, already swinging her legs out of bed."Text me the address."
Kate moved quietly through her morning routine.Allen was already awake, as he was one of those oddballs who actuallyenjoyedwaking up at dawn.But she wanted to make sure not to wake Michael.So she dressed quickly and then followed the smell of coffee downstairs.She made herself a cup and then found Allen on the back porch in his robe, cradling a steaming mug and watching the sunrise paint their small backyard in shades of gold and orange.
"Another case?"Allen asked without turning around.His voice carried that resigned tone she'd heard countless times.Perhaps he simply knew because she’d woken up so early and come down already dressed.Or maybe because, as he’d pointed out last night, he’d seen that look of growing obsession on her face last night.
"Another murder," Kate confirmed, stepping onto the porch."Same book club as yesterday's victim.It’s a woman I saw last night when I was sort of undercover."
Allen turned to look at her then, and she could see the concern in his expression."So you’re looking at a serial killer now?"
"Looking that way."Kate sipped the coffee gratefully, feeling the caffeine begin to clear the last traces of sleep from her mind."I'm sorry, Allen, but I need to get to the scene.Can you handle Michael this morning?"
"Of course I can," Allen replied, though she caught the slight edge in his voice."But I do have a client call at ten-thirty that I really can't reschedule.It's the Peterson account, and they've been trying to get this meeting set up for three weeks."
Kate felt the familiar tug of guilt that came with balancing her job alongside family commitments."Can you call someone to watch Michael during the call?Maybe ask Emma Layne if she's free?"
