Falling for Kindred Claus Read online

  While Cameron was distracted, Lisa managed to wriggle out from under his bulk and jump off the couch. The minute she was free, she called,

  “Isabel—come here, little girl!”

  The chewchie made an amazing leap through the air, launching herself from the top of Cameron’s balding head, where she had scrambled to avoid his latest blow, to Lisa’s waiting hands. She climbed up Lisa’s arm and nestled herself safely against the side of her neck where Lisa could feel her fragile body quivering and hear her tiny, rapid panting.

  She started to dodge to the right to get by Cameron and head for the front door, but her husband lumbered around and blocked her way just before she could.

  “I don’t think so, my dear,” he said, smiling that cruel smile she remembered so well. “You’re not going anywhere until you’ve had your punishment. Six months of punishment, all at once, in fact.” He sneered at her, his face a mass of bloody scratches in the faint light of the TV. “I wonder if you’ll survive it. Somehow I rather doubt you will.”

  Lisa broke and ran, Isabel clinging to her hair as she whipped down the narrow corridor into the tiny kitchen. She was heading for the back door, which opened onto a postage-stamp-sized backyard, separated from her neighbors’ yards by only a flimsy chain link fence. She was sure if she could just get over it, she could make a run for it and find someplace to hide. If she could just…

  Her hand grabbed the knob and she twisted and pushed—but nothing happened. Heart pounding, breath tearing in her lungs, Lisa twisted the knob again—then tried working the thumb-lock, first one way and then another.

  Still nothing.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, my dear,” Cameron’s voice said behind her. “You see—I’m onto your tricks. I jammed the back door long before I broke in the front.”

  Lisa turned to see him blocking the narrow kitchen door, an evil grin on his bloody face. She drew in a breath and screamed at the top of her lungs,

  “Help! Help me—call the police!”

  The walls were paper thin and she knew her next door neighbors must hear her. But the only response she got was a brief pounding on the wall and someone shouting back,

  “Quiet in there! Peoples’ tryna sleep!”

  “Oh, I think you’ve come to the wrong neighborhood if you think someone from here is going to call the police,” Cameron remarked, still grinning at her. “I drove past at least two fairly flagrant drug deals on my way to find you—I doubt that Tampa’s finest get down to this area of town very often.”

  He began advancing on her again.

  “Which begs the question, my dear—why would you rather live in this dump than in our lovely house out in Shelton Chase Estates? Why would you run away from me in the first place?”

  “Because,” Lisa spat, “At least in this dump nobody gets drunk and beats me up every couple of weeks!”

  Cameron’s face darkened in the dim light spilling in through the kitchen window.

  “Now, now, my dear. I don’t ‘beat you up.’ I simply punish you and only when you deserve it. Like now!”

  He lunged at her but Lisa ducked, jumping to the side of the ancient stove. There was a cast iron skillet there—another relic left by a previous tenant. Lisa had gotten it out earlier, thinking to make herself a cheese sandwich before she had given up and gone with the Lean Cuisine because it was less trouble. But she had left the skillet out and though it was invisible in the shadows of the kitchen, she knew it was there.

  She reached out and found what she was searching for—the iron handle cold and solid in her hand. The skillet was so heavy that Lisa normally had to use both hands to lift it but now terror seemed to make it light. She hauled it off the stove top with a scraping, clanging sound and swung it as hard as she could at Cameron’s head.

  If she had hit him a direct blow, she might have cracked his skull with the heavy old skillet. But somehow, he managed to get his arm up just before its iron bottom came crashing down. It bounced off his forearm and Lisa lost her grip on the handle so that the skillet came crashing down between them, landing on his foot.

  Cameron howled—which provoked more aggravated pounding and shouts of, “Quiet, damn it!” from the next-door neighbors.

  Lisa thought about shouting for help again and thought better of it. Cameron was still in her way—still mostly blocking the narrow kitchen doorway with his bulk—but this was the best chance she was going to get.

  Putting her head down, she rushed past him and felt a sharp tug as he ripped several strands of hair from her head.

  Oh God, just like last time, babbled a voice in her head and then she was past him and racing down the hall. But the wrong way down the hall, she realized in a moment, when she came to the bedroom door. She had meant to turn the other direction and run out the front door but it was too late now, she could hear Cameron stumbling down the hallway behind her like an angry bull, shouting that he would make her pay, that he would punish her and she would be sorry—so sorry—that she had ever left him!

  Feeling like she was trapped in a nightmare loop of the past, Lisa ran into the bedroom and slapped the door shut behind her. She bolted it but it was only one of those cheap, twisty locks on the doorknob and the door itself was little better than plywood.

  He’ll be in here in a minute. Then what? What can I do?

  She ran for the bedroom window but it wouldn’t open—the damn thing must have been painted shut, which Lisa was pretty sure was a fire hazard. But it didn’t look like she was going to get a chance to complain to the management—not if she couldn’t somehow get away from her enraged and drunken husband.

  She felt for her cell phone—the burner she had bought when she’d run from him in the first place so he couldn’t trace her—but again came up short.

  Must have left it on the coffee table, she thought, her stomach squeezing like a fist with anxiety. Oh God, it was just like before—just like last Christmas Eve! Only this time she was sure Cameron was going to kill her!

  “Let me in, you little bitch!” he shouted and there was a muffled blam! as he rammed his shoulder into the bedroom door. The door shuddered but held, though it looked decidedly loose on its hinges. It couldn’t take another blow like that, Lisa thought. It was going to give the next time he rammed it.

  Her eyes scanned the room, looking for a weapon to defend herself and coming up short. She thought about hiding in the closet but the closet door was even flimsier than the bedroom door and didn’t lock at all. There was only one other thing to do—one other place she could go.

  Tears streaking her face and her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her fingertips, Lisa dived under the bed just as the bedroom door splintered open and banged against the wall.

  Crawling as quickly as she could, she shoved herself into the narrow, dusty corner under the head of the bed. She stuffed her fist in her mouth, trying not to cry—trying not to even breathe too loud—though she knew it was useless. Just like last time, Cameron would find her. And just like last time, he would drag her out and beat her like a dog.

  Only this time he won’t stop, she thought, her throat tight with terror. This time he’ll kill me and probably no one will even catch him. Why should they? This is suitcase city—women alone get raped and murdered all the time here. They’ll chalk my death up to a break-in and Cameron will be free to start all over again—to find some other poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks who’s too dazzled by his money and charm to realize what an abusive asshole he is before it’s too late. He’ll—

  Suddenly the cheap Wal-Mart bedspread she’d bought with her first month’s salary—her first month of freedom—flipped up and Cameron’s grinning face appeared like some horrible, bloody jack-o-lantern staring at her.

  No, that’s wrong, her mind gabbled. A jack-o-lantern is for Halloween and this is Christmas Eve. By now it’s probably Christmas.

  Yes, it was Christmas. And her present was going to be getting beaten to death.

  Lisa tried to s