Body Double: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel

evil closing in. All at once she was running away from it, tree branches slashing her face, panic shrieking at her.
Faster. Faster!
    On the downhill slope she lost her footing and began to tumble, and would have slammed belly first onto the ground if she had not caught herself on a sapling.
Poor baby, I almost landed on you!
She heard no sound of pursuit, but she knew he had to be right behind her, tracking her. Terror sent her hurtling on, through a web of interlocking branches.
    Then the trees magically evaporated. She broke through a last tangle of vines and her feet slammed onto packed earth. Stunned and gasping, she stared across ripples of reflected moonlight. A lake. A road.
    And, in the distance, perched on a point, the silhouette of a small cabin.
    She took a few steps and stopped, groaning as another contraction gripped her in its fist, squeezing so tightly she could not breathe, could do nothing but crouch there in the road. Nausea flooded her throat. She heard water slap against the shore, and the cry of a bird on the lake. Dizziness washed over her, threatening to drag her down to her knees.
Not here! Don’t stop here, so exposed on the road.
    She staggered forward, the contraction easing now. Pushed herself onward, the cabin a shadowy hope. She started to run, her knee throbbing with every slap of her shoe against the dirt road. Faster, she thought. He can see you here against the lake’s reflection. Run before the next pain clamps down. How many minutes until the next one? Five, ten? The cabin looked so far away.
    She was pushing herself all out, now, legs pumping, air roaring in and out of her lungs. Hope was like rocket fuel.
I’m going to live. I’m going to live.
    The cabin windows were dark. She rapped on the door anyway, not daring to shout for fear her voice would carry back up the road, up the mountain. There was no answer.
    She hesitated only a second.
To hell with being a good girl. Just break the goddamn window!
She grabbed a rock near the front door and slammed it against a pane, and the sound of breaking glass shattered the night’s silence. With the rock, she batted away the few remaining shards, reached in, and unlocked the door.
    Breaking and entering, now. Go, GI Jane!
    Inside she smelled cedar and stale air. A vacation house that had been closed up and neglected too long. Glass crunched under her shoes as she hunted for a wall switch. An instant after the lights came on, she realized: He’ll see it.
Too late now. Just find a phone.
    She looked around the room and saw a fireplace, stacked wood, furniture with plaid upholstery, but no phone.
    She ran into the kitchen and spotted a handset on the counter. Picked it up and was already dialing 911 when she realized there was no dial tone. The line was dead.
    In the living room, broken glass skittered across the floor.
    He’s in the house. Get out. Get out now.
    She slipped out the kitchen door and quietly closed it behind her. Found herself standing in a small garage. Moonlight filtered in through a single window, just bright enough for her to make out the low silhouette of a rowboat cradled in its trailer. No other cover, no place to hide. She backed away from the kitchen door, shrinking as far into the shadows as she could. Her shoulder bumped up against a shelf, rattling metal, stirring the smell of long-gathered dust. She reached out blindly along the shelf for a weapon and felt old paint cans, their lids caked shut. Felt paint brushes, the hairs shellacked solid. Then her fingers closed around a screwdriver, and she snatched it up. Such a pitiful weapon, about as lethal as a nail file. The runt cousin of all screwdrivers.
    The light under the kitchen door rippled. A shadow moved across the glowing crack. Stopped.
    So did her breathing. She backed toward the garage bay door, her heart battering its way to her throat. Only one choice left.
    She reached down for the handle and pulled. The door squealed as it slid up the tracks, a shriek announcing:
Here she is! Here she is!
    Just as the kitchen door flew open, she scrambled out under the bay door and ran into the night. She knew he could see her moving along that pitilessly exposed shore. She knew she could not outpace him. Yet she struggled forward along the moon-silvered lake, the mud sucking at her shoes. She heard him moving closer through the clattering cattail reeds. Swim, she thought. Into the lake. She veered toward the water.
    And suddenly doubled over as the next