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heard nothing like it again, and no one had appeared to help her. She could think of nothing further to say
to this madman, nothing to delay him any longer; and if she could not keep him en-gaged in conversation,
he would step forward in a moment and put that knife under her chin, very deep under her chin. Her only
hope now was to distract him, to turn and try for the door. If he gave chase, she ought to be able to lead
him down-stairs, where a cry for help would be heard.
She turned, without warning, struck the edge of the open door, and spun clumsily through into the
hall.
He grabbed her almost at once.
The knife came up.
Remembering the fight in the bougainvillea arbor, she stamped down on the same foot she had injured
then, harder than she had before, grinding hard to the right.
Though he had been able to conceal his injury to this point, had not needed to limp, that portion of his
foot had been particularly tender, and now it erupted into white hot pain.
She jerked loose of him.
He swung the knife.
It sliced along the upper part of her left arm, drawing blood but not digging too deeply.
She stepped back into the kids' room and, in one fluid series of movements, slammed and bolted the
door, making them temporarily safe from the man who was now calling himself Jeremy but had once
been a new and special friend.
TWENTY-THREE
Sonya had not, for a moment, believed they would be indefinitely safe in that second floor bed-room,
even though the door was bolted. Bill Peter-son was a strong, vital, young man who would be able to
kick in even one of these sturdy old doors if he were given a few minutes for the job. She did not think
that they could afford to sit by and hope that, before he had smashed the latch, someone would have
come up from the storm cellar to see what was delaying them. She was sure that, al-ready, someone had
most likely decided to come looking for them. But what chance did men like Henry Dalton and Leroy
Mills have against a man like Peterson, when Peterson had so easily dis-patched with someone like
Rudolph Saine. A mad-man, with his system pumping extra adrenalin, could often have the strength of
three or four men his size and weight; and even without this advan-tage, men like Mills and Dalton would
have been no match for him. They might make it up the stairs, against his wishes, but they'd never get
close to this room or to rescuing her and the chil-dren.
As soon as she'd locked the door, she ran to the bed and twisted the wire loose of Alex's wrists, told
him to get the other length off his feet, then freed Tina.
 What are we going to do? Alex asked.
Tina was still sniffling, but was getting over her fear with remarkable speed.
Sonya did not respond, but went to the window and opened the interior shutters just as Peterson
delivered a first, solid kick to the far side of the door, just about where the latch was. She slid the
window up, letting in the blunt fingers of the storm, letting in Greta's voice and thereby dulling the sound
of his second kick which, nevertheless, she was sure was as effective as his first had been in loosening the
latch screws and gaming him entry.
 Look here, she told Alex.
He stood beside her, rain pelting his face through the open window, and looked out at the roof of the
first floor porch.  You want us to get down there?
 You first, she said.  It's a flat roof, and it shouldn't give you much trouble if you don't stand up on it.
The wind will blow you off if you try to stand up straight, do you understand?
He nodded vigorously.
Peterson kicked the door.
A single screw pinged loose, and the latch rat-tled.
 Stay on your hands and knees, she said.
He had crawled onto the windowsill, facing her. She took hold of his hands, helped him to squirm
out, groaned as she took his weight on her arms. She leaned forward, trying to put him as far down as
possible, dropped him when his feet were only eighteen inches from the porch roof. He fell, dropped to
his knees at once, and crouched there in the high wind, as tenacious as a little animal.
 Your turn, Sonya told the girl.
 I'm scared, Tina said. She was pale and trem-bling, and she looked utterly unable to withstand
even a few seconds in Greta's ferocity. But she was going to have to withstand it, and for longer than a
few seconds.
Sonya kissed her, gave her a big hug. As kindly and firmly as she could, she said,  You'll be okay,
angel.
 You coming, too?
 Of course, angel.
Peterson was calling to her from the hall, but she did not listen. He had nothing to say that would
change her plans; they had only one chance of escape, and they must take it quickly.
She repeated the routine she had used with Alex, letting Tina dangle from her hands, above the black
porch roof. She was two and a half feet from safety, a more dangerous distance than Alex had been, but
when she fell, her brother grabbed her and held her, making a more difficult weight for the wind to move
around.
Peterson had stopped talking and was kicking the door again. Another screw pinged loose, and the
whole latch slipped, close to being torn com-pletely free.
Sonya sat on the window ledge, dangling her legs a moment, then pushed off and fell to the roof. She [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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