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“If you can find your voice, say ‘hello’ to Rip for me,” Shay taunted with a nasty laugh and swung her leg backward.
Closing her eyes, Jules yanked hard on the towel.
With all her strength, throwing her weight backward, she pulled, dragging the soggy terry cloth toward her.
Shay teetered. Her mask of hatred gave way to surprise. “Shit!” Flailing, arms finding nothing to grab onto, Shay lost her balance and fell, hitting the floor hard, her backpack flying.
More footsteps on the other side of the door!
Shay landed. Hard!
“Help!” Jules tried to cry, but had no voice.
The door banged open.
“Hold it right there!” a male voice commanded.
From the floor, Shay, looking over Jules’s shoulder, scrambled to her feet, not ready to give up. Her teeth were bared, her lips pulled back into an awful grimace.
Trent threw himself into the room. He tackled Shay. She went down again! Jules scooted away, trembling, the demons of the past becoming the present, morphing into one body, that of her little siste
r.
“Let go of me!” Shay was kicking wildly, trying to roll away as Trent pinned her down.
“Not on your life.” His body was stretched over hers, his hands trying to grab her wrists. But she was quick and determined, fists flying, booted feet striking out!
“Bastard!” she cried.
He caught one wrist and she bucked up, trying to kick him.
“Get off of me or I’ll scream rape!”
He grabbed her second wrist. She spat upward, spittle hitting him between the eyes.
He growled, “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“Cocksucker! No good fucking cowboy!” she raged and Jules curdled inside. This shrieking, struggling psycho was her sister?
“You okay?” Trent asked, looking over his shoulder as Shay fought and snarled beneath him.
Jules could only nod. Of course she wasn’t okay. She never would be. Spying her sister like this was killing her.
“Stop! Now!” Father Jake, weapon drawn, strode into the room. “Let her go!” he ordered, pistol trained on Shaylee.
Trent, looking as if he were making the worst mistake of his life, breathed hard and rolled away from Jules’s sister. “Careful,” he warned the preacher as he swiped a sleeve over his face.
“I will be.” Father Jake’s eyes were steady, his face set as he hauled Shaylee to her feet, then forced one of her wrists backward so that she squealed in pain and fell to her knees. Once she was on the floor, subdued, he clipped a pair of handcuffs on her. “It’s over.”
“It will never be over!” Shay said defiantly, spittle running from the corner of her mouth, her hair a mess, her eyes crazed. She looked from Trent to Father Jake before her gaze landed on her sister. “As long as I’m alive, Jules, it will never be over!” she raged.
“Then take it up with God,” Father Jake advised, before marching her from the room.
Jules watched her sister disappear through the door.
Trent knelt beside her and she was shaking, tears running down her face. She collapsed into his arms. “Shay’s right,” she whispered, grateful for Trent’s strength, but knowing the chilling truth deep in her heart. “It’ll never be over. Never.”
EPILOGUE
