She cleared her throat so that she could speak. “What do you want?”

He took another step closer. “You know what I want.”

She could feel his cock harden as he pressed it against her ass. He put his hands on either side of her, resting them on top of the dresser, trapping her.

He said, “ Nan wouldn’t tell me who CD-boy is.”

Lena bit her lip, feeling the sting as she drew blood. She thought about Terri Stanley when they had knocked on her door this morning, the way she had held her jaw rigid as she talked to keep her lip from breaking open. Terri would never have to do that again. She would never again lie awake at night, wondering what Dale was going to do next. She would never have to be afraid.

Ethan started rubbing against her. The sensation made her feel sick. “Me and Nan had a real good talk.”

“Leave Nan alone.”

“You want me to leave her alone?” His hand snaked around, grabbing her breast so hard she had to sink her teeth into the flesh of her lip to keep from crying out. “This is mine,” he reminded her. “You hear me?”

“Yes.”

“Nobody touches you but me.”

Lena closed her eyes, willing herself not to scream as his lips brushed against her neck.

“I’ll kill anybody who touches you.” He tightened his fist around her breast as if he wanted to rip it off. “One more dead body don’t mean shit to me,” he hissed. “You hear?”

“Yes.” Her heart thudded once in her chest, then she could no longer feel it beating. She had felt numb with fear, but just as suddenly, she felt nothing.

Slowly, Lena turned around. She saw her hands come up, not to slap him but to tenderly cup his face. She felt light-headed, dizzy, as if she were somewhere else in the room, watching herself with Ethan. When her lips met his, she felt nothing. His tongue had no taste. His callused fingers as he pushed his hand down the front of her pants brought no sensation.

On the bed, he was rougher than ever before, pinning her down, somehow more angry that she wasn’t resisting. Through it all, Lena still felt apart from herself, even as he pushed into her like a blade slicing through her insides. She was aware of the pain as she was aware of her breathing; a fact, an uncontrollable process through which her body survived.

Ethan finished quickly and Lena lay there feeling like she had been marked by a dog. He rolled onto his back, breathing hard, satisfied with himself. It wasn’t until she heard the steady low snore of his sleep that Lena felt her senses slowly begin to return. The smell of his sweat. The taste of his tongue. The sticky wetness between her legs.

He hadn’t used a condom.

Lena carefully rolled onto her side, feeling what he had left drain out of her. She watched the clock slowly mark the time, first minutes, then hours. One hour. Two. She waited until three hours had passed before she rose from the bed. She held her breath, listening for a change in the cadence of Ethan’s breathing as she crouched to the floor.

She moved slowly, as if through water, sliding open the top drawer of her bureau, taking out the black plastic case. She sat on the floor, her back to Ethan, holding her breath as she unsnapped the lock. The noise filled the room like a gunshot. She tried not to gasp as Ethan shifted in bed. Lena closed her eyes, fighting panic as she waited for his hand on her back, his fingers wrapped around her throat. She turned her head, looking over her shoulder.

He was on his side, facing away from her.

The weapon was loaded, a round from the magazine already chambered. She cradled the gun in her hands, feeling it grow heavier and heavier until she let her hands drift to her lap. A smaller version of her service weapon, the Mini could do just as much damage up close. Lena closed her eyes again, feeling the mist of blood Terri had sprayed into her face, hearing her last words, almost triumphant: I got away.

Lena stared at the gun, the black metal cold against her hands. She turned to make sure Ethan was still sleeping.

His book bag was on the floor where he had dropped it. She gritted her teeth as she opened the zipper, the sound reverberating in her chest. The bag was a nice one, Swiss Army, with several large pockets and plenty of storage. Ethan kept everything in the bag- his wallet, his books for school, even some gym clothes. He wouldn’t notice a couple of extra pounds.

Lena reached into the bag, unzipping the large rear compartment that snaked around the inside of the bag. There were pencils in there, some pens, but nothing else. She hid the gun inside and pulled the zip closed, leaving the bag on the floor.

Moving backward, she crawled to the bed, using her hands to lift herself up, then inch by inch lowering herself down beside Ethan.

He exhaled, almost a snort, and rolled over, his arm flopping across her chest. Lena turned her head to see the clock, counting away the minutes until the alarm would go off, until Ethan would be out of her life forever.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Sara tightened her hand on Bob’s leash as his nose jerked toward the field on the side of the road. Being a sight hound, Bob had no control over his urge to chase anything that ran, and Sara knew if she let go of the leash, she would probably never see the dog again.

Jeffrey, who was holding just as tightly to Billy’s leash, glanced into t he field, too. “Rabbit?”

“Chipmunk,” she guessed, steering Bob to the other side of the road. He gave in easily, laziness being just as much of a genetic imperative for greyhounds, and loped down the road, his slim heinie shifting with each step.

Jeffrey slipped his arm around her waist. “You cold?”

“Uh-uh,” she said, closing her eyes against the sun. They had both cursed loudly when the phone had awakened them at five till seven this morning, but Cathy’s offer of a pancake breakfast had persuaded them to roll out of bed. They both had a lot of work to catch up on this weekend, but Sara reasoned they would be better prepared on a full stomach.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jeffrey said. “Maybe we should get another dog.”

She gave him a sideways glance. Bob had just about died of a heart attack this morning when Jeffrey turned on the shower without first checking to make sure the dog wasn’t sleeping in his usual spot.

“Or a cat?”

She laughed out loud. “You don’t even like the one we have now.”

“Well”-he shrugged-“maybe a new one, one we both picked out.”

Sara leaned her head back on his shoulder. Despite what Jeffrey believed, she couldn’t always read his mind, but right now Sara knew exactly what he really wanted. The way he had talked about Terri and her son last night had made Sara realize something that she had never even considered. For years, she had only thought of her inability to have children as a personal loss, but now she could see that it was Jeffrey’s loss as well. She couldn’t exactly explain why, but somehow, knowing he had this need as deeply as she did made it feel less like a failure and more like something to overcome.

“I’m gonna keep an eye on those kids,” he said, and she knew he meant Terri’s two children. “Pat’s going to come down pretty hard on him.”

Sara doubted the man’s brother held any sway in the matter, and asked, “Will Dale keep custody?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “When I was pushing on his chest…” Jeffrey began, and she knew that he felt sick about the fact that he had cracked two of Tim Stanley’s ribs while giving the boy CPR. “They’re so little. His bones are like toothpicks.”

“It beats letting him die,” Sara said. Then, realizing how hard her words must sound to him, she added, “Cracked ribs heal, Jeffrey. You saved Tim’s life. You did everything right.”

“I was glad to see that ambulance.”

“He’ll be out of the hospital in a few days,” she assured him, rubbing his back to soothe his worries. “You did everything right.”