Page 146 of D for Dead

Not allowing herself time to think, Amy slammed the cistern lid hard against the back of his head, watching as he dropped to the floor like a dead fly. Gingerly she stepped over his body, the cistern lid still in her hands in case he tried to get up again.

He didn’t.

She made her way downstairs, remembering the front door was locked, and searched the rooms for another exit. There was a door towards the back of the house, but that too was locked. In the living room, she tried the window, relieved when it opened.

As she slid across the sill, she heard shuffling upstairs, realised Troy was gaining consciousness. She needed to get away from the house and fast. Following the walls of the house she found herself out front; spotting the police car, she ran across the front yard wondering when it had arrived and why the officer hadn’t come to her aid. As she approached the car, she heard Mary J Blige playing on the radio, saw the officer sat in the driver’s seat.

Why hadn’t he helped her?

She understood why as she pulled open the door and a flash of lightning momentarily lit up his sightless eyes, the slash in his throat.

No.

Troy had done this. Troy had killed him. And he was going to kill her if he caught her.

Where were the keys? She could take the car.

She checked the ignition, felt in the officer’s pockets, trying to ignore the fact rigor mortis had already set in and his body felt cold and stiff.

Where the hell are the keys?

Noise came from the house.

Troy.

Understanding she had to move quickly, she reached for the officer’s holster and found it empty.

No keys. No gun.

She was on foot without a weapon, and needed to get away from here fast. As she had done twenty years ago, she headed for the woods. This time she had the advantage that her pursuer was further behind her.

Just get away from here, Amy. Find a car, find a house, and alert the authorities.

The sooner she found help, the sooner she could get help for Boaz, could check up on Huckleberry and see Sullivan.

She really needed to see Sullivan.

Another growl of thunder rumbled overhead as she ran into the safety of the trees, trying desperately to remember the route back to town.

Twigs snapped underfoot as she made her way blindly through the darkness, her breath ragged, but not daring to stop. Another flash of lightning showed she was still on the path, but she had no idea where it was headed.

Was Troy behind her? Was he close enough to catch her?

Up ahead in the distance she saw a faint beam.

Was it a flashlight? Was there a search party out looking for her and Boaz?

Knowing it couldn’t be Troy she ran madly towards it.

* * *

Declan cut down the wooded path he had followed earlier, knowing it led to Tucker Johnson’s house. He had spent much of the day there with Sheriff Wagner, watching as the remains of Johnson’s victims had been pulled from the well.

The man had been killing for a long time and it would take a while to make formal identifications. So far they had recovered eight victims and both Declan and Wagner suspected that number would probably double.

The woods were dark and he was glad he’d had the foresight to bring his flashlight with him. As he made his way towards the house he thought about how surprised Sullivan would be when he found out Declan had turned out to help after all. He knew the detective didn’t like him, thought he wasn’t up to the job and wanted an easy ride. It would be good to see the look on Sullivan’s face when Declan came through, was the one to solve the case and be painted as a hero.

Sullivan would hate that and so would Hickok. He would show them both.