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Edwin stumbled to the refrigerator and yanked it open, feeling for a bottle of water. He found one and flushed his face, the cold liquid little by little dulling the sting. His vision, though fuzzy, returned. He stumbled to the front door, which she'd closed and locked. But he took a second key from his wallet and opened the door, then hurried outside, wiping his eyes.
He looked around. He spotted Kayleigh running down the road that led to the highway.
As the pain diminished, Edwin relaxed. He actually smiled.
The road was three miles long. Gravel. She was barefoot.
She wasn't going to get away.
Chapter 77
EDWIN STARTED AFTER her, jogging at first, then sprinting.
The terrible burn of the chemical had diminished his passion but not eliminated it. He was all the more driven to fling her to the ground, rip her jeans off. Then over onto her belly ...
Make her cry, the way he was crying. Teach her who was in charge.
He saw her disappear around a curve in the road, only a hundred feet away. He was closing fast.
Seventy feet, fifty ...
Teach her that she was his.
And then he turned the corner.
He ran for ten more steps, five, three, slowing, slowing. And then Edwin stopped. His shoulders sagging, coughing hard from the run and the ammonia.
And he laughed. He just had to.
Kayleigh stood with two people: a uniformed deputy and a woman, who had her arm around the singer.
Edwin laughed once more, a deep, hearty sound. The sound his mother made when she was happy and sober.
The man was a deputy he recognized from Fresno, the one with the thick black mustache.
And the woman, of course, was Kathryn Dance.
The deputy held a pistol, aimed squarely at Edwin's chest.
"Lie down," he called. "Lie down, on your belly, hands to your side."
Edwin debated. If I take one step I'll die.
If I lie down I'll go to jail.
Thinking, thinking ...
In jail at least he'd have a chance to talk to Kayleigh, possibly to see her. She'd probably come visit him. Maybe she'd even sing for him. They could talk. He could help her understand how bad everybody else was for her. How he was the man for her. How he was Mr. Today.
Edwin Sharp lay down.
As Kathryn Dance covered him with her pistol, the deputy circled around, cuffed his hands and lifted him to his feet.
"Could I get some water for my eyes please? They're burning."
The officer got a bottle and poured it over Edwin's face.
"Thank you."
