Emily Locke 01 - Final Approach

people. Remember?” She walked from the porch onto the first step. “We’re going for a walk—right now—or I’ll have you shot. Here, in front of your daughter.”
    Kurt produced his gun and Annette, staring at me in apparent confusion, wailed.
    Trish continued. “Do you want her to see that, Emily? Want her to feel your blood spatter?” She paused. “Imagine the nightmares.”
    “Shut up!”
    Annette jerked suddenly and released my leg. She buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook but there was no sound.
    “Oh God,” I dropped to the ground. “I didn’t mean you, baby.”
    I used one knee to support Casey, and the other sank into the cold ground. I rubbed Annette’s back. She moved her head to my shoulder, and light reflected off her tear-streaked cheeks. She sniffled and wiped her face on my shirt.
    I turned my mouth toward her ear. “I love you, sweetheart. Since before you were even born.”
    Casey was crying so loudly I wondered if she’d heard me. I shifted him and leaned toward her again, wrapping an arm tightly around her wispy frame.
    I heard Trish’s boots descend the steps.
    “Touching,” she said, “but enough’s enough.”
    She walked to us, put a hand on Annette’s shoulder, and pulled.
    “Leave me alone!” Annette swatted her. “Go away!”
    Kurt stepped forward to help. Annette kicked him and he swore at her.
    I held onto my child with everything I had, but they pulled until I lost one small part of her at a time. Finally, I only had a grip on her tiny arm. When she cried out, I worried it was because of how hard I was squeezing.
    Kurt suddenly shoved her away and tried to wrestle Casey from me instead.
    Trish wrapped her arms around Annette’s body and tried to lift her. I didn’t let go.
    “Don’t let her take me!” Annette yelled.
    I reached with my other hand to hold her back, and instantly Casey was gone.
    Both children were crying, screaming with every breath, terrified. Then Trish wrenched Annette’s arm from me. I lunged after her, and something struck the back of my head.

Chapter Thirty-eight
    I woke up on the cold ground with sharp pine needles poking into my neck and cheek. I closed a weak fist over loose earth and blinked. It was hard to focus. I was still in the driveway beside the cars, and my neck hurt too badly to raise my head.
    The sallow glow of the porch light outlined silhouettes huddled on the porch. I blinked again and counted. There were three people now, and no sign of the kids.
    Dew had soaked my blouse and pants. I started to shiver and wondered how long I’d been out. Long enough for Trish and Kurt, and whoever was with them, to feel comfortable walking away from me. Not long enough for the sky to completely darken. The woods were wrapped in heavier shadows, but I could still make out the trees. I blinked over and over. There was dirt in my eyes.
    It was hard to see, but that had less to do with the grit in my eyes than it did with the blow to my head. When I moved it too quickly, objects blurred.
    I focused on Trish’s silhouette. She’d gathered her hair into a ponytail. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but she gestured wildly and the ponytail bounced when she spoke.
    Kurt must have pulverized my neck when he’d hit me. It hurt to move, and I felt dizzy when I tried. I brought a hand to the back of my head and rubbed. My neck was swollen and a knot had already formed. I checked my fingers. No blood.
    The Volvo was a couple yards away. I thought about scrambling behind its wheel, but expected I’d be shot before I reached the door.
    A more subtle strategy might be to slide under the car, into blackness. Woods were on the other side. Maybe I’d have a chance if I could get that far.
    But, even if I disappeared among the pines, what about Annette? If escaping meant losing her, I didn’t want to live.
    I knew I couldn’t get her out alone. Going for help was probably our only chance, but I had no real idea where to go, or how long it might take. Would there be time? I was on foot; they had vehicles—not comforting odds.
    I rolled onto my back and took a deep breath to help control the pain. I had to extend my neck to monitor the activity on the porch. It was agony.
    I inhaled and braced for another roll. Slowly, I made my way onto my stomach again. I’d closed half the distance to the car and hadn’t been detected. Adrenaline was kicking in.
    Another roll, and I was staring at the undercarriage, which had less