“And we needed to practice.” Torrance circles me, and dread flares in my veins. “So we could get it right this time.”
“You lured me here.”
“For a reenactment,” Torrance confirms. “It’s what’s missing. We need an ending.”
Fear cramps my muscles, every fiber of my being screaming to run.
Torrance holds out the hilt of the knife in Drew’s direction. “The knife I used to cut Cam’s limes that night. Ironic, isn’t it? That Andrew here would choose this one from the bar.”
“What’s to stop me from using it on you?” Drew asks.
Torrance scowls. “Because you want the investigation to go away. You want your victim to stop dredging up the past. So that you and your wife can live your cozy little, white picket-fence life. So that you can finally be free.”
“You’ll never be free of this, Drew,” I say. “My partner will piece it together. Agent Nolan won’t stop until he proves it was you and you’re locked away. Freedom gone.”
Drew accepts the weapon. “Like hell I won’t be free.”
Everything happens fast then. I try to dart past Torrance. His long arms surround me. He grabs my waist and hauls me around to face Drew. He locks my arms behind my head, holding me in place.
“This way,” Torrance says, breathless, “I get the perfect view.”
I struggle against his hold, my feet kicking out at Drew. I can feel Torrance’s excitement against my back as Drew raises the knife.
“In a way, we’re doing this for you, Cynthia.” Torrance locks his arms tighter, an iron-clad grip. “Do you really want to live in a world where every single person in your life betrayed you? Do you want to keep running? What kind of life is that?”
My chest engulfs in flames, my breaths sawing my lungs like the sharp blade in Drew’s hand. He’s watching me, marking his moment to strike. “Don’t, Drew. You don’t have to do this. Not like last time…”
Time folds. I tunnel through a wave. A moonless night. Blackness all around. The crickets and frogs. Drew on the dock. Coming toward me. A rising bubble of hope that he’d come to talk, to work things out…before I see the hatred marring his handsome features. Then the blood-stained lotus in the water…
As I blink into the present, a serene calm washes over me. “Who planted the lotuses at Joanna’s crime scene?”
This stops Dre
w’s advance. “What?”
Torrance forces me forward. “She’s stalling. Do it, Andrew. Finish what you started.”
I close my eyes. I don’t believe in the supernatural. I don’t believe in premonitions or ghosts, or victims reaching out from beyond the grave. We can spend our whole life searching for meaning, for a sign, and in the end, the only answer to life is to live.
During our partnership, Rhys made sure I knew more than the basics of self-defense. He never considered me a victim, and he made sure I’d never be one again.
Drew arcs the knife in the air and bites his lip in concentration. He thrusts the blade into my stomach, and pain lights up my nervous system. A scream wrenched from the bottom of my lungs imbues the early morning air. As the weapon is yanked free, Torrance covers my mouth.
“Again!” Torrance shouts.
The silver blade glistens with my blood. I try to latch on to a thought—a plan. In his attempt to silence me, Torrance freed my arm. I grip the coin roll and, mustering every ounce of strength, I throw my body into the swing and strike his face.
He curses. The distraction is enough to free myself. I wriggle loose of his arms and fall to the dock. Vomit claws up my throat, the piercing pain in my abdomen beginning to throb. My heart pulses in my ears, my vision wavers.
No. I’ve been through worse. I’ve survived worse.
Drew doesn’t hesitate; he barrels toward me. I manage to roll out of his reach. The knife strikes the dock, the blade wedged between the planks. Just enough time…I wrestle the handcuffs from my pocket.
Torrance didn’t think they were a weapon. Something to laugh off like the wrapped coin roll. I use them now. I clutch my fingers around the curved steel and make a fist, then aim for Drew’s face. My knuckles blaze with the force of impact.
“Oh my, God.” I breathe through the pain as I click the cuffs open.
Drew holds his face, covering the red gash on his cheek. “You bitch.”