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“Now you listen to me—”
“No. Never again.”
I twisted my wrist out of his hand like I’d been taught in the self-defense class Dale had made me take—toward the thumb. I was free, just for an instant. I saw the anger and something else—fear?—in his eyes. I knew he was going to kill me then. I saw the knife come up, just a glint in the moonlight.
I dropped flat to the ground, scraping my palms on the asphalt, and rolled. The tour busses that created the square were big, boxy vehicles. They had to be, with everything the designers wanted to cram into them. When I’d joked about fans sneaking under the busses, we all laughed, because there wasn’t much room underneath, maybe ten, twelve inches at the outside edge. It would have to be a very small fan.
Or a mouse.
I shimmied my way under as fast as I could. It wasn’t quite fast enough. He grabbed my leg, pulling hard. I screamed, trapped.
“Sara! Sara!”
They were calling my name. Someone was calling my name. Dale?
“Nooo!” I grabbed onto something over my head, cold metal in the dark. I could smell a mix of motor oil and dirt. I pulled and twisted and felt him lose his grip, just for an instant. I jerked my leg back and felt my shoe slip off.
I was free!
There was more room toward the middle of the bus. I wiggled and squirmed my way across the asphalt on my belly, cursing the obscene width of the tour bus. It felt like I was crawling behind enemy lines.
“Sara!” It was Dale. Close!
“Dale!” I gasped. “I’m here!”
I slithered out from under the other side of the bus, hearing footsteps on the pavement. I stopped, still panting with the effort, seeing at least a dozen flashlights heading toward the square. I couldn’t see who was behind them in the dark, but I could hear them all, calling my name.
“I’m here!” I stood, wobbly. “Help! I’m here!”
I leaned against the bus, my head aching, trying to catch my breath.
“Sara.” Dale, panting too from his run across the parking lot. He grabbed me and hugged me so tight I could barely breathe. “Carl told me about the note. I thought… Are you okay? Was it Ben?”
So he’d had the same thought. Because the other one was so impossible it wouldn’t compute. Why would he do something so risky? He was on parole. He knew he’d go back to jail if he got caught. But the stepbeast thought he was too big for consequences. And that was exactly why he’d come after me, I realized. I was the only person alive who had “bested” him and he couldn’t stand that. He’d only spent two years in jail, but I was sure he’d spent them angry, planning ways to pay me back for what I’d done to him.
What I’d done to him.
“It’s him.” I managed to croak. “It’s the stepbeast.”
“Goddamnit!” Dale’s arms tightened around me. “Sara, why did you go!”
I heard people on the other side of the bus. Shouts, footfalls.
Someone called out, “I got him!”
“I thought it was Ben.” I sobbed against his chest.
The rest of the band had caught up, all of them out of breath, several of the crew too, all asking if I was okay.
“He’s still in there!” I cried through my tears.
Or, maybe he wasn’t. It was likely he slipped out and away during all the commotion. The thought of him out there somewhere, still. He would come for me. He did it once, he’d do it again. He would come for me until it was over. Until I was dead. Game over, he wins.
“It’s okay,” Dale murmured against my aching head. In the distance I saw the yellow lights of campus security, and behind that, some flashing reds and blues. “They got him:”
“Who? What?” Nothing was making sense.
“I got him!” I heard someone banging against the other side of the bus.
