Fifteen
Lacy Germaine woke to the sound of heated arguing. For a moment, she buried her head into the pillow in an effort to drown out her parents’ fighting.
And then she remembered—her parents were long gone, both killed in a car crash several years ago. Abruptly, she sat bolt upright on the futon, her heart thundering in her chest.
One of the voices belonged to her sister, Jill, but who was she talking to?
Lacy leaped out of bed and went over to check on her three-month-old nephew, Rory, who was still sleeping, but not for long, considering the harsh tones coming from the next room.
At first the voices were low and angry but still incomprehensible. It didn’t take long for the deeper male voice to rise. “Tell me the truth! Now! Or I’ll kill you and the brat, too!”
Lacy sucked in a harsh breath, understanding with sick certainty that her sister’s worst fears had become reality. Jill’s husband, David Williams, had returned home.
And he was ambushing her sister after midnight.
Reacting instinctively, Lacy lifted her nephew from the crib and grabbed the long shawl-type wrap, winding it around and around, swaddling the baby snugly against her body. Then she fumbled for her cell phone and dialed 911.
“What’s your emergency?”
“Domestic violence at 1671 Elmwood Lane,” she whispered into the phone. “Hurry!”
“Please stay on the line,” the woman responded calmly.
Lacy wanted to yell that this was her sister’s life at stake! But of course she didn’t.
“I can’t. He’ll hear me.” Lacy disconnected from the call. She needed both of her hands free in order to manage the baby.
Her brother-in-law obviously didn’t know Lacy was there, staying with Jill to help out over spring break. If he found out Jill wasn’t alone...
She couldn’t finish the thought.
“No, please...”
Lacy hated the idea of Jill begging for mercy. Her sister had confided that she was filing for divorce from her husband because his anger and verbal attacks scared her.
Clearly, Jill had been right. Lacy was getting a firsthand idea of how frightening her brother-in-law could be.
“Please don’t do this...” Her sister’s voice was full of tears.
Bang! Bang!
No! Lacy gasped, her heart lodging in her throat. Dear God, what had David done?
There was nothing but silence after the gun went off, forcing Lacy to assume the worst.
Jill was dead. Shot by her own husband.
And if his threat was to be believed, Rory was next.
Lacy jammed her cell phone into her purse, slung the strap over her shoulder and shoved her feet into her running shoes. Where was the diaper bag?
In the kitchen.
Knowing she couldn’t dare pass her sister’s room to get the bag, she eased out from Rory’s bedroom and darted around the corner in the opposite direction to go into the living room. She needed to get Rory out of the house, far away from his armed and dangerous father.
Thankfully, the patio doors slid open without a sound. She eased through into the mild April spring air. Relieved it wasn’t too cold, she crossed the concrete patio until she reached the damp grass.
Grateful for the lack of snow, Lacy didn’t hesitate, running around the house and toward the road. Her car was parked less than a block from her sister’s home, on the opposite side of the street, and she hoped she’d make it to the vehicle before David realized the baby was gone.
Mud squished beneath her running shoes. The warm spring weather had melted what was left of the snow, leaving mush behind. She slipped, then steadied herself.
Twenty yards, fifteen, ten. A loud thud from inside the house caused her to misstep, and this time she fell, one knee hitting the ground. Clutching the baby to her chest, she braced herself with one hand on the ground, surprised to feel a hard ridge beneath her fingertips. Some sort of key. Instinctively she picked it up and shoved it into the pocket of her hoodie as she leaped up to her feet.
Still holding the baby close with one hand, she fished in her purse for her car keys.
Five yards. Three. She was going to make it! Using her thumb, she pressed the key fob to unlock the driver’s-side door. The car made an extraordinarily loud beeping noise, front and rear lights flashing. She winced, hoping David wouldn’t hear. As if the car wasn’t loud enough to broadcast her escape, Rory began to cry.
“Hey! Stop! Get back here!”
David’s irate shout had her hunching her shoulders, half expecting to be hit with a bullet squarely in the back. Somehow, she managed to yank the driver’s-side door open and to slide in behind the wheel. There was just enough room to maneuver with Rory bundled against her. She shut the door, jammed the key in the ignition and hit the accelerator, speeding away from her sister’s house.
Lacy took a quick right and then a left, leaving the normally quiet neighborhood, expecting to hear the wail of sirens at any moment.
But there was nothing.
She’d called 911 for help, hadn’t she? So where were the Milwaukee Police? How long would it take for them to show up?
What should she do? Even if the police would be there at any moment, Lacy didn’t want to stop. What if David followed her? Every instinct she possessed told her to keep going, to put as much distance between herself and Rory’s father as possible.
Think, Lacy, think! Where was the closest on-ramp? There! She found the sign and quickly took the ramp heading northwest, deeply afraid that David wasn’t far behind.
No way would she allow him to lay one finger on Rory.
She
