Strangers in the Night Read online

  Thea cried out and jumped backward, slamming the kitchen door and fumbling with the lock. Too late! He would come through that door, lock or not. She sensed his determination and left the lock undone, choosing instead an extra second of time as she sprinted for the front door.

  The back door slammed open just as she reached the front. It was still locked. Her chest heaved with panic, her breath catching just behind her breastbone and going no deeper. Her shaking, jerking fingers tried to manipulate the chain, the lock.

  “Thea!” his voice boomed, reverberating with fury.

  Sobbing, she jerked the door open and darted out onto the porch, shoving the outside screen door open, too, launching herself through it, stumbling, falling to her knees in the tall, wet grass.

  He burst through the front door. She scrambled to her feet, pulled the hem of her nightgown to her knees, and ran for the road.

  “Damn it, listen to me!” he shouted, sprinting to cut her off. She swerved as he lunged in front of her, but he managed once again to get between her and the road.

  Despair clouded her vision; sobs choked her. She was cornered. He was going to kill her, and once again she was helpless to protect herself.

  She let her nightgown drop, the folds covering her feet, as she stared at him with tear-blurred eyes. The gray light was stronger now; she could see the fierceness of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the sheen of perspiration on his skin. He wore only a pair of jeans. No shirt, no shoes. His powerful chest rose and fell with his breathing, but he wasn’t winded at all, while she was exhausted. She had no chance against him.

  Slowly she began to back away from him, the pain inside her unfurling until it was all she could do to breathe, for her heart to keep beating. “How could you?” she sobbed, choking on the words. “Our baby … How could you?”

  “Thea, listen to me.” He spread his hands in an open gesture meant to reassure her, but she knew too much about him to be fooled. He didn’t need a weapon; he could kill with his bare hands. “Calm down, sweetheart. I know you’re upset, but come inside with me and we’ll talk.”

  Angrily she dashed the tears from her cheeks. “Talk! What good would that do?” she shrieked. “Do you deny that it happened? You didn’t just kill me, you killed our child, too!” Still she backed away, the pain too intense to let her remain even that close to him. She felt as if she were being torn apart inside, the grief so raw and unmanageable that she felt as if she would welcome death now, to escape this awful pain.

  He looked beyond her, and his expression shifted, changed. A curious blankness settled in his eyes. His entire body tensed as he seemed to gather himself, as if he were about to spring. “You’re getting too close to the water,” he said in a flat, emotionless voice. “Come away from the bank.”

  Thea risked a quick glance over her shoulder, and saw that she was on the edge of the bank, the cool, deadly lake lapping close to her bare feet. Her tears blurred the image, but it was there, silently waiting to claim her.

  The unreasoning fear of the lake gnawed at her, but was as nothing when measured against the unrelenting grief for her child. She changed the angle of her retreat, moving toward the dock. Richard kept pace with her, not advancing any closer, but not leaving her any avenue of escape, either. The inevitability of it all washed over her. She had thought she could outwit fate, but her efforts had been useless from the very beginning.

  Her bare feet touched wood, and she retreated onto the dock. Richard halted, his aquamarine gaze fastened on her. “Don’t go any farther,” he said sharply. “The dock isn’t safe. Some of the boards are rotten and loose. Come off the dock, baby. Come to me. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

  Baby. Shards of pain splintered her insides, and she moaned aloud, her hand going to her belly as if her child still rested there. Desperately she backed away from him, shaking her head.

  He set one foot on the dock. “I can’t bring that child back,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll give you another one. We’ll have as many children as you want. Don’t leave me this time, Thea. For God’s sake, let’s get off this dock.”

  “Why?” Tears were still blurring her vision, running down her cheeks, a bottomless well of grief. “Why put it off? Why not get it over with now?” She moved back still more, feeling the boards creak and give beneath her bare feet. The water was quite deep at the end of the dock; it had been perfect for three boisterous kids to dive and frolic in, without fear of hitting their heads on the bottom. If she was destined to die here, then so be it. Water. It was always water. She had always loved it, and it had always claimed her in the end.

  Richard slowly stepped forward, never taking his eyes off her, his hand outstretched. “Please. Just take my hand, darling. Don’t move back any more. It isn’t safe.”

  “Stay away from me!” she shrieked.

  “I can’t.” His lips barely moved. “I never could.” He took another step. “Thea—”

  Hastily, she stepped back. The board gave beneath her weight, then began to crack. She felt one side collapse beneath her, pitching her sideways into the water. She had only a blurred, confused image of Richard leaping forward, his face twisting with helpless rage, before the water closed over her head.

  It was cool, murky. She went down, pulled by some unseen hand. The darkness of the dock pilings drifted in front of her as she went deeper, deeper. After all the terror and pain, it was almost a relief for it to end, and for a long moment she simply gave in to the inevitable. Then instinct took over, as irresistible as it was futile, and she began fighting, trying to kick her way to the surface. But her nightgown was twisted around her legs, pulling tighter and tighter the more she struggled, and she realized that she had caught it in the broken boards. The boards were pulling her down, and with her legs bound she couldn’t generate enough energy to counteract their drag.

  If she could have laughed, she would have. This time, Richard wouldn’t have to do anything. She had managed to do the deed herself. Still, she didn’t stop fighting, trying to swim against the pull of the boards.

  The surface roiled with his dive, as he cut through the water just to her left. Visibility was poor, but she could see the gleam of his skin, the darkness of his hair. He spotted her immediately, the white of her nightgown giving away her position, and he twisted his body in her direction.

  Anger speared through her. He just had to see it through; he couldn’t let the lake do its work without his aid. Probably he wanted to make certain she didn’t fight her way free.

  She put up her hands to ward him off, redoubling her efforts to reach the surface. She was using up all her oxygen in her struggles, and her lungs were burning, heaving with the need to inhale. Richard caught her flailing hands and began pushing her down, down, farther away from the light, from life.

  Thea saw his eyes, calm and remote, every atom of his being concentrated on what he was doing. She had little time left, so very little. Pain swirled inside her, and anger at the fate that was hers, despite her best efforts. Desperately she tried to jerk free of him, using the last of her strength for one final effort….

  Despite everything, she had always loved him so much, beyond reason, even beyond death.

  That was an even deeper pain: the knowledge that she was leaving him forever. Their gazes met through the veil of murky water, his face so close to hers that she could have kissed him, and through the growing darkness she saw her anguish mirrored in his eyes. Trust me, he’d said repeatedly. Trust me … even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Trust me….

  Trust him.

  Realization spread through Thea like a sunburst. Trust. She had never been able to trust him, or in his love for her. They had been like two wary animals, longing to be together, but not daring to let themselves be vulnerable to the other. They hadn’t trusted. And they had paid the price.

  Trust him.

  She stopped struggling, letting herself go limp, letting him do what he would. She had no more strength anyway. Their gazes still h