She downed the wine as ordered. This time, the remainder of the dissolved pills went down with it. She wondered how long it had been since she’d first put them in her mouth. She truly was beginning to feel drowsy. Time was running out. She sank a little lower in the tub and pretended to struggle to keep her eyes open.
“Back to my emotional breakdown,” he droned on. “The confidentiality laws that protect a psychiatric patient’s privacy are very strict nowadays. Unfortunately, they aren’t bulletproof. So I took the added precaution of lying through my teeth to my doctor and letting him see my hair fall out, more and more, week after week. If my records are subpoenaed and he is called to testify, my emotional upheaval and hair loss will be verified by an expert witness. I went to Snohomish to buy the hair-removal cream, wore sunglasses and a hat so I wouldn’t be recognized, and paid cash, leaving no paper trail. They’ll never be able to prove that I denuded my body on purpose. Losing every hair on one’s body is rather extreme, of course, but it’s not medically impossible.”
While Peter boasted about his cleverness, Rainie scanned the area around her from under droopy eyelids. Almost anything is a potential weapon. She stared for a moment at the bar of soap. Then her gaze shifted to the wine bottle. Last, she studied the goblet in her hand. Definitely a potential weapon, almost as lethal as a knife. She let her head nod forward. Then she blinked and jerked erect.
“I’m fine,” she told Peter, speaking sluggishly. What frightened her most was that not all of her slurred speech was an act now. The combination of the wine and drug was hitting her hard. “You’re screwed, Peter. Before I go under, Parker is going to show up and kick your sorry ass into next week.”
“In that case, I’ll just shove you under.”
Rainie let the wineglass loll sideways in her hand and leaned her head back. She closed her eyes, then fluttered them back open again. It was important that she appeared to be fighting sleep. Finally she closed her eyes and let her head roll sideways, watching him through the veil of her lashes.
A train. Parker slugged the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Holy Mary, mother of God. He counted the cars ahead of him. Then he took measure of the damned train. Five minutes, shot. Frustration and terror for Rainie made his skin feel electrified. He clenched his hands. Relaxed them. Clenched them. Sweet Jesus. Needing to do something, he dialed the police again. Different dispatcher this time.
“Has a car been sent over to Lorraina Hall’s home?” Parker was so upset he shouted the question.
The male dispatcher said, “We had no officer in the immediate area, sir, but we do have a car on the way.”
“I’m stalled at the railroad tracks. Train passin’. I can’t get through. How far out is the car?”
“The officer will get there as quickly as he can, sir. ETA is fifteen minutes.”
“She may not have fifteen minutes!” Parker cried. “Call for another car. Get somebody over there now!” Parker could not believe it took the cops so long to respond to an emergency. “The bastard is gonna kill her. Are you readin’ me loud and clear?”
“This isn’t our only emergency,” the dispatcher replied. “We’re doing the best we can, sir.”
Their best wasn’t good enough. Rainie was alone in the house with a homicidal maniac.
Fooled by Rainie’s pretense of being asleep, Peter whispered, “Farewell, Lorraina,” and at last he took the knife from her throat.
Rainie tightened her grip on the stem of the goblet, and then with all her strength, she belted him in the face with the bowl. He cried out. The thin crystal broke on impact and shards went flying. Don’t hesitate. You may have only one opportunity. Speed, strength, agility. Go after him with everything you’ve got, Rainie mine. No mercy. Before Peter could react, she smacked him a second time, driving the spikes of sharp glass deep into his face.
“Ah-hh-h!” he cried, grabbing for the glass that had attached itself over his nose. “God damn you!”
Rainie grabbed the bar of soap, twisted up onto her knees, and swung, clocking him on the temple with all her strength. He toppled sideways, hitting the wall with his shoulder. Before he could recover his wits, she grabbed the wine bottle, leaped from the tub, and brought it down on his head. The sound of the thick glass striking flesh and bone almost made her vomit. Don’t run. Finish him. He’s bigger, stronger, and faster. He may give chase, and you won’t be able to outrun him. She raised the wine bottle over her head and struck him again. And again.
Dizziness made her vision spin. Her legs buckled. She crashed to her knees near his feet. The wine bottle rolled away from her over the floor, going ka-thunk, ka-thunk, ka-thunk. She felt blackness closing in. No, no, no! If she lost consciousness now, he might regain his senses and kill her. With rubbery fingers, she grabbed the edge of the tub, hauled herself erect, and ran, her wet feet slipping and sliding. Phone. She had to get help. Careening like a drunk, she made it into the kitchen. Her purse sat on the counter. She staggered over, fished inside for her cell phone, and speed-dialed Parker. He answered on the second ring.
“I’m almost there, honey.”
Rainie’s lips had turned to rubber. She could no longer feel her arms or legs. The room twisted and lurched around her. Black spots swam before her eyes. When she tried to talk, her tongue felt like a dry sponge and would barely work.
“Peter,” she managed to push out. “Thleeping pillths and wine. Need ambulanth. Hurry.”
It was all she could get out before a blanket of blackness came over her.
Parker already had the accelerator tromped clear to the floor. He dialed 911 again. The same female dispatcher who’d taken his first call answered. Parker cut her off and said, “Ms. Hall just called me. Danning drugged her up on sleepin’ pills and wine. She lost consciousness while she was talkin’ to me on the phone. Get every car you can over there, and an ambulance as well. She’s gonna need immediate medical attention.”
She put him on hold for a moment. When she came back on the line, she said, “Three cars are on the way, and so is an ambulance. It’s going to take a few minutes for them to get there, though, Mr. Harrigan.”
Parker was shaking with fear. “I’m three minutes away. I’ll get there before they do.”
“Before you hang up, can you give me more information about Ms. Hall?”
Parker clenched his teeth in frustration. She was unconscious and in the house alone with a killer. What the hell else did they need to know?
“Sure,” he bit out as he took a corner with a squeal of tires.
“Do you know any of Ms. Hall’s medical history? It may be helpful to the EMTs. Is she allergic to any medications?”
Parker had never been so scared in his life. It was difficult for him to think clearly. Fudge instead of cookies. Cider instead of mulled wine. A ballerina instead of a witch. Damn it to hell. She’d tried to signal him, bless her heart, and he’d totally missed the hints. An old lady in a Ford Crown Vic pulled out from the curb directly in front of him. Parker hit the brakes. His truck went into a sideways skid. The moment he regained control of the vehicle, he passed the car, praying as he did that a child wouldn’t dart out into the street. He was in a residential area now.
“Sir,” the dispatcher said, “can you answer the question? Is Ms. Hall allergic to any medications?”
Parker jerked himself back to the moment. He remembered when Rainie had filled out a form at the doctor’s office to get a sleep aid and glanced up at him to ask, How do you spell ‘penicillin’? I can never get it right.
“She may be allergic to penicillin. That’s all I know.”
Parker took the corner onto Walnut on two wheels. Up ahead, he saw Rainie’s Mazda parked in front of her one-story duplex. He aborted the call, tossed aside the phone, and pressed even harder on the gas pedal even though it was already clear to the floor. In front of her house, he stopped dead center in the street, shoved the gearshift into park, and left the truck running. Rainie. As he raced toward her porch, he felt as
if he were in one of those dreams where everything happened in slow motion. Running, running, and never getting anywhere. It was like pushing against a headwind. After scaling the steps, he found the door locked. He drew back and rammed it with his shoulder, once, twice, three times. Finally he heard the framework break. With one more hit, the door gave way.
Parker burst into the living room at a run. Where was she? Sweet Jesus. Where was she? He glanced in the bedroom. Nothing. Raced for the kitchen. He was well into the room before he saw her, crumpled on the floor.
“Rainie?” He dropped to his knees beside her naked body. His hand shook as he felt for a pulse. At first, he could detect nothing. Then he found it, a faint and slow beat. She was alive, maybe just barely, but still alive. In the distance, he heard sirens. Please, God, let it be the paramedics.
Pushing to his feet, Parker left her to search the house, his fists knotted, his body trembling with rage. The second bedroom was empty. He veered away from the doorway to advance on the bathroom. He took only two steps into the enclosure before he saw him, slumped in a sprawl against the wall. Holy mother. What looked like a wine goblet protruded from the bastard’s face, and two long gashes on one side of his bald head were streaming blood. Down for the count. Parker didn’t bother to feel for a pulse. He hoped the son of a bitch was dead. He turned on his heel and ran back to Rainie.
Dropping to his knees, he peeled off his shirt to cover her nakedness and had just gathered her limp body into his arms when three policemen burst into the house. Cupping a hand over the side of Rainie’s skull so her head wouldn’t loll, Parker gave them his take on what he thought had happened and directed them to the bathroom. A moment later, one of the cops returned.
“He’s alive. He’ll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, though.”
Parker fixed anguished eyes on the officer’s face. “She’s fadin’ out on me. I can barely feel her pulse. The bastard gave her a bunch of sleeping pills and made her drink wine.”
The man pressed his fingertips to Rainie’s throat. His brown eyebrows drew together in a concerned frown. “It’s faint, but there. The ambulance will be here shortly.”
Parker didn’t know if Rainie would last that long. He hunched his shoulders around her. The pain in his chest was so sharp he could barely breathe. “I can’t lose her,” he said raggedly. “I just can’t. You know? How will I live without her?”
The cop picked up the bottle of sleeping pills from the counter, pulled his radio from his belt, and left the kitchen. Parker heard him talking in the living room, but most of it was police jargon he couldn’t understand. A moment later, the officer returned and said, “I gave the EMTs a heads-up. They’re on the line with the hospital right now so they can start treatment immediately. She’ll make it, son. Those boys are very well trained.”
Parker could only pray the man was right. Her body felt as cold as death.
Moments later, the ambulance arrived, and four EMTs raced into the house with a gurney. Parker was forced to relinquish his hold on Rainie as the medics went to work, one taking her blood pressure and pulse while another inserted an IV catheter in her arm. Before Parker could inquire about her condition, they had pumped her stomach and had her on a gurney to remove her from the house. Heart in his throat, he followed them out.
“Is she gonna be okay?” he asked as they pushed the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Two men jumped in with her. The remaining two closed the doors.
“We’ll do all we can!” one of them called as they circled the vehicle.
The next thing Parker knew, the ambulance was leaving, siren blasting and lights swirling. He ran to his truck to follow it to the hospital.
Rainie awakened slowly, first becoming aware of light sifting through her lashes to hurt her eyes and then registering sounds around her. Footsteps, a clank of metal, distant voices. She blinked and opened her eyes.
“Hello, beautiful. It’s about time you woke up.”
Parker’s dark face came into focus. Smiling sleepily, Rainie determined that he was sitting on a chair beside her bed—only it wasn’t her bed or her room. Bewildered, she glanced around. “A hospital?”
He stood and stepped over to gather her into his arms. Deep lines of exhaustion scored his cheeks and fanned out from his eyes. His lips looked pale, and his hair lay in furrows over his crown, as if he’d repeatedly raked his fingers through the thick strands.
“Parker, are you okay?”
He laughed and buried his face in her hair. “Am I okay? Ah, Rainie, I’ve never been so scared for anyone in my whole life. Don’t ever put me through this again. My heart can’t take it.”
It all came back to Rainie then in a horrifying rush. She hooked an arm around Parker’s neck. “Oh, God, Parker. Peter was in my car when I came out of the supermarket. He put a knife to my throat.”
“I know,” he whispered. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You kicked his ass good and proper.”
Rainie shivered at the memory. And then she laughed shakily. “I did, didn’t I? I pretended to fall asleep so he’d lower the knife. The instant he did, I smashed the wineglass in his face.”
He tightened his arms around her. “I almost lost you. Thank God they pumped your stomach before all the wine and Ambien got into your bloodstream.”
Rainie stiffened. “Peter. Is he . . . dead?”
Parker chuckled. “No, but he probably wishes he was. You worked him over pretty good. He’s here in the hospital, too, only he’s under armed guard. Once he can be transported, he’ll be taken into FBI custody and will stand trial. Special Agent Slaughter called. He says the bastard went into a rant when he woke up, furious because you’d bested him. How the hell could a stupid little pea brain like you outwit him? He’s the great Peter Danning, who’s committed two perfect murders. He was so fit to be tied that he confessed to killing his first two wives in front of two doctors, three nurses, and a handful of cops.”
Rainie smiled blearily. “That is so like Peter. His temper always gets the better of him.”
“His highfalutin attorney will try to say he was on pain medication and didn’t know what he was sayin’, but Slaughter says he divulged too many details about how he committed the murders. The poison he used to kill his first wife, for one, some weird chemical that leaves no trace. How would he know about it if he didn’t actually use it? He also admitted to hirin’ White to mess with Clarissa Danning’s brakes and then killin’ the bastard to keep him quiet. He knew too many details about exactly how White died not to have been there. Slaughter says Danning will be behind bars for the rest of his natural life.”
Rainie hooked both arms around his neck. “Oh, Parker, I love you. When Peter put the knife to my throat, I kept thinking that it couldn’t end for us that way. And I couldn’t remember if I’d ever told you how very grateful I am for all the wonderful gifts you’ve given me. The list is as long as my arm.”
“The feelin’s mutual, sweetheart. That’s what love is, you know, a fabulous, wondrous gift.” He ran a hand into her hair. “I just have one bitch.”
She stiffened. “What’s that?”
“I wanted to kick his sorry ass myself, and you kicked it so good, there was nothin’ left for me to obliterate.”
She smiled drowsily. “Yes, well. It was an ass I needed to kick.”
“I know,” he whispered. “And you did a fine job of it. No more lookin’ into mirrors and feelin’ lost, Rainie mine. You put an end to his control over you forever. I’m so proud of you.”
Rainie was proud of herself. Even as sleepy as she still was, remembering that moment when she’d shoved the broken goblet into Peter’s face gave her a sense of liberation.
“They told me that you can be released as soon as you wake up. If you’re feelin’ up to it, darlin’, I’ll take you home.”
Rainie smiled dreamily and breathed deeply of his scent, that fabulous, intoxicating blend of smells that was exclusively his own. Oh, how she loved him. “I’m already there,” s
he whispered.
“You’re already where?” he asked.
“Home,” she whispered. “Already home.”
As Rainie said those words, she knew they were absolutely true. She was finally, at long last, right where she belonged.
In Parker Harrigan’s arms.
Epilogue
On a crisp, snowy Saturday a few months later, Parker and Rainie’s wedding took place in the Catholic church that Parker had attended all his life. Because it was a small, rural parish, it had been fairly easy to book the church, and Father Mike had bent over backward to get the marriage scheduled as quickly as possible. Clint was Parker’s best man. Quincy, Zach, and Samantha’s husband, Tucker Coulter, were his groomsmen. Along with all the Harrigans, the entire Coulter clan was inside the church proper. Tucker’s sister, Bethany; her husband, Ryan; and her in-laws, the Kendricks, were present as well. Rainie loved the thought that her new family had so many members, in-laws, and friends. There would be frequent social gatherings for her and Parker to attend.
Out in the vestibule, Rainie trembled with a bad case of nerves, not because she had a single doubt about marrying Parker, but because there were so many people in the pews, filling both sides of the church. As she walked down the aisle, every eye would be upon her. Janet straightened her veil and winked at her.
“That Parker is so gorgeous. I’m thinking that Quincy needs a sweetie. What do you think?”
Rainie could only laugh.
Maggie handed her the bouquet. “I’ve got dibs on Zach. He is so sexy. Still eclectic in his tastes, unfortunately, but I’m thinking I might addict him to one flavor.”
Samantha, Rainie’s matron of honor, shook her head. “My poor brothers don’t stand a chance.”
Rainie just giggled again. She was too nervous to think clearly. As her matron of honor and bridesmaids fell into formation and proceeded into the church, she clutched the wool sleeve of her escort’s black tux. “Oh, Grandpa, what if I trip and fall on my face?”