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She strained.
Couldn’t breathe.
Was freaked beyond freaked!
Her arms strained, stretching the ties at her wrists! Tugging. Hard!
But they couldn’t stretch their bonds. Try as she might, she couldn’t reach up to pull the unholy noose from her neck!
Panic rose.
Her lungs were on fire!
The chair rocked with her struggles.
“Hold still!” he hissed.
No!
This was not the way she was going to leave this earth.
Never this way!
She was rasping, trying to drag in the slightest bit of air.
She thought of Ty. Of her children. Of the life she’d planned for herself. Images of the boys on Christmas morning, their faces aglow, of the last time they’d been to the beach together as she’d watched her sons skim board in the lapping tide, of the way Ty’s arms felt around her, how his strength would seem to flow into her body, how kissing and making love to him transported her . . . Oh, God . . . and the memories yet to be made, the camping trips, or vacations . . . Disney World and beyond. And now it was all turning to dust, ending with her life....
No, no, no!
Her lungs were ready to burst!
She struggled as he pulled hard on the chain.
The chair wobbled, rocked crazily. The beads sliced deep.
Hot blood trickled down her neck.
His breath ruffled her hair. “Good-bye, Doctor Sam,” he snarled against her ear, “It’s time for you to die!”
* * *
Bentz witnessed it all.
From the partially collapsed hallway where he was hunched over, he stared into the candlelit cavern and saw Father John behind Sam, who was tied to a chair, the deadly rosary wrapped around her neck. He saw the panic in her eyes as the maniac behind her tugged hard on his unholy noose.
Aiming his weapon, hoping to get a clear shot, he yelled, “Police! Stop! Hands in the air.” And then he called the bastard by his name.
Father John froze.
He glanced up.
Startled.
“Hands over your head!” Bentz yelled.
Samantha, struggling for breath, rocked her chair back against her assailant.
“Whaaat?” Father John yelled as he fell backward, losing his footing on the wet stones.
