Body Double: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

heard wood grate against wood, and felt something bump down beside her. A ladder. Opening her eyes, she looked up and saw only a silhouette against stars. After the pitch blackness of her prison, the night sky seemed awash in light.
    He turned on a flashlight, aiming it down at the rungs. “It’s only a few steps,” he said.
    “It hurts so much.”
    “I’ll take your hand. But you have to step onto the ladder.”
    Sniffling, she rose slowly to her feet. Swayed and dropped back down to her knees. She had not stood up in days, and it shocked her now, how weak she felt despite her attempts to exercise, despite the adrenaline now pumping through her blood.
    “If you want to get out,” he said, “you have to stand up.”
    She groaned and staggered back to her feet, unsteady as a newborn calf. Her right hand was still inside the blanket, clutching it to her chest. With her left hand, she grasped the ladder.
    “That’s it. Climb.”
    She stepped onto the lowest rung and paused to steady herself before she reached up with her free hand for the next rung. Took another step. The hole was not deep; just a few more rungs and she’d be out of it. Already, her head and shoulders were at his waist.
    “Help me,” she pleaded. “Pull me up.”
    “Let go of the blanket.”
    “I’m too cold. Please, pull me up!”
    He laid his flashlight on the ground. “Give me your hand,” he said, and bent toward her, a faceless shadow, one tentacle extended toward her.
    That’s it. He’s close enough.
    His head was just above hers now, within striking distance. For an instant she faltered, repulsed by the thought of what she was about to do.
    “Stop wasting my time, ” he ordered.
“Do it!”
    Suddenly it was Dwayne’s face she imagined staring down at her. Dwayne’s voice berating her, scorn shoveled upon scorn.
Image is everything, Mattie, and look at you!
Mattie the cow clinging to her ladder, afraid to save herself. Afraid to save her baby.
You just aren’t good enough for me anymore.
    Yes I am. YES I AM!
    She let the blanket go. It slid off her shoulders, uncovering what she had been clutching beneath it: her sock, bulging with the eight flashlight batteries. She brought her arm up, swinging the sock like a mace, the arc propelled by sheer rage. Her aim was wild, clumsy, but she felt the satisfying
whump
as batteries slammed into skull.
    The shadow reeled sideways and toppled.
    In seconds she was up the ladder and scrambling out of the hole. Terror did not make you clumsy; it sharpened your senses, made you quick as a gazelle. In the split second after her feet touched solid ground, she registered a dozen details at once. A quarter moon peeking out from behind branches that arched across the sky. The smell of soil and damp leaves. And trees, everywhere trees, a ring of towering sentinels that blocked out all but a narrow dome of stars overhead.
I’m in a forest.
In one sweeping gaze she took all this in, made a split-second decision, and sprinted toward what looked like a gap between those trees. She found herself suddenly hurtling down a steep gully, crashing through brambles and whip-thin saplings that did not snap in two but lashed back at her face in vengeance.
    She landed on her hands and knees. Scrambled back to her feet in an instant and was running again, but with a limp now, her right ankle twisted and throbbing. I’m making too much noise, she thought, I’m loud as a trampling elephant. Don’t stop, don’t stop—he could be right behind me. Just keep moving!
    But she was blind in these woods, with just the stars and that pitiful excuse of a moon to show her the way. No light, no landmarks. No idea where she was or in which direction help might lie. She knew nothing of this place, and was as lost as a wanderer in a nightmare. She fought her way through underbrush, heading instinctively downhill, letting gravity decide which direction she should take. Mountains lead to valleys. Valleys lead to streams. Streams lead to people. Oh hell, it sounded good, but was it true? Already her knees were stiffening up, the aftermath of the fall she’d taken. Another tumble and she might not be able to walk at all.
    And now another pain gripped her. It brought her up short, catching her in midbreath. A contraction. She doubled over, waiting for it to pass. When at last she could straighten again, she was drenched in sweat.
    Something rustled behind her. She whirled and faced a wall of impenetrable shadow. She felt