Dying to please by Linda Howard

Author:Linda Howard [Howard, Linda]
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: General, Romance, Thrillers, Suspense, Fiction, Murder, Fiction - Psychological Suspense, Psychological, Psychological fiction, Serial murders, Crime, Stalking victims, Housekeepers
ISBN: 9780345453402
Publisher: New York : Ballantine Books, 2002.
Published: 2003-11-04T05:00:00+00:00

She took two more steps. The door to the den was maybe three more steps away. She forced herself to take those steps, practically throwing herself forward like someone who had finally worked up enough nerve to leap off a tower bungee-jumping. The odor had an almost oily quality to it, sticking to her throat, coating her tongue. She gagged again, and covered her nose and mouth with her hand as she looked inside the den.

He was sprawled on the floor in a half-sitting position, his head and shoulders supported by the heavy coffee table. His head was bent at an unnatural angle, as if he hadn’t had room to lie flat. The wound was

. . .

She didn’t look for Merilyn. As she had done once before, she backed away, slowly, shaking, little mewling sounds coming from her throat. She was vaguely shocked at herself for making such sounds. They sounded so weak, and she was strong. She had always been strong. She didn’t feel strong now. She wanted to run screaming from this house, find someplace safe and dark and cower inside it, until this horror was gone.

She wanted . . . she wanted Cahill. Yes. When he was here, she wouldn’t feel so helpless, so shaken. She had to call Cahill.

She kept backing down the hall, and as she had once before, she found herself standing in the kitchen. She was shaking violently now, and she knew she was on the verge of hysteria. No. She wouldn’t give in to it. Couldn’t. There were things to be done, that all-important call to make. Not Cahill. Not first. The first call had to be 911. She had to do things right. Maybe Merilyn was still alive, maybe the medics could get here in time to save her, if she made the 911 call first. Her hand was shaking so hard she couldn’t hit the right numbers on the keypad. She disconnected and tried again, with the same result. Weeping, cursing, she banged the phone against the counter. “Work, damn it! Work!”

The phone came apart in her hand, plastic sections flying. She threw what was left of it against the wall. She needed another phone. She needed . . . another . . . damn . . . phone!

She tried to think. Phones were all over this house, but where exactly? She hadn’t worked here long enough for the knowledge to be automatic, not now when she could barely form a single coherent thought.

And she couldn’t hunt for one. She might find Merilyn instead.

She couldn’t think about it, couldn’t think of that energetic, cheerful, good-hearted woman lying in a pool of blood somewhere. Concentrate. Find a phone.

The bungalow. She knew where the phone was in there.

She tried to run, but her legs wobbled beneath her and she staggered, falling to one knee on the courtyard pavers. She didn’t notice any pain, but bounded up and staggered the rest of the way to the bungalow door.

There was a phone just inside, in the living room.

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