Turn up the Heat

myself inside a small garage. Light filtered through its dirty windows. Kevin lay on his back on the oily cement floor. I raised the metal rod. My plan was to hit him where I’d do the most damage. As it turned out, however, I just didn’t have it in me to play it safe by delivering a blow to his head. In spite of everything, I did not want to risk killing him. But I did need to hurt him. I absolutely had to disable him. I smashed the rod down onto his legs. I did it three times.
    Pain made Kevin roll onto his side and curl up. When he did, I spotted his cell phone, which was sticking out of his pocket. He lay between the truck’s back tires and the garage door. With no room to maneuver, I was reluctant to get close to him, but I wanted that phone so desperately that I forced myself to reach down to grab it with my left hand. As I did, Kevin snatched my wrist. He had left me no choice. The metal hook was still in my right hand. I drove the curved end of the rod hard into his gut.
    With Kevin immobilized, I made my escape through a side door of the garage. With the phone in my left hand, the heavy metal hook in my right, I started running and didn’t stop. To my surprise, I was in a residential neighborhood. Once again, my assumption had been wrong; I’d senselessly imagined a rural spot. The truck hadn’t covered enough miles to reach one; there were no rural areas within easy driving distance of Newbury Street. In any case, the neighborhood was one I didn’t recognize. Somewhere in Brighton, maybe? Not in my own area. Possibly near Oak Square?
    I flipped open Kevin’s cell phone, paused to dial 911, and picked up speed again. As I jogged down a steep hill lined with almost identical three-decker houses, I sobbed information to the 911 operator. I stayed on the phone and read off street signs as I passed them. I kept looking behind me to see whether Kevin was in pursuit, but the streets were empty. Out of breath, I slowed my pace to a fast walk and kept moving until a siren sounded, lights flashed, and a police cruiser pulled up beside me. I climbed into the car. I was safe.
    After I’d assured the officer that I was uninjured, he wanted me to show him where I’d left Kevin. Somehow, I was able to help him retrace the path I’d taken. “There! That’s the door I came out of!” The officer radioed in the address. Within what felt like seconds, three more police cars appeared and screeched to a halt in front of the garage.
    “Wait here!” My savior jumped out of the vehicle and joined his fellow officers while I waited to see Kevin appear in handcuffs.
    An ambulance arrived. The officer who had picked me up returned to the cruiser. I rolled down the window. “He’s not there? He got away?” I cried in frustration.
    The officer smiled. “No. He’s there. But he can’t walk. You got him pretty good. We had to call an ambulance for him.”
    The police eventually drove me to Simmer. All I wanted was to be with Josh, the only person who could make me feel truly safe. On the way, I detailed what Kevin had done to me and explained that he was the person who had murdered Leandra. Explaining his motive was awkward, of course. I used the phrase disfigured manhood.
    Two cruisers were outside Simmer, and Josh stood out front with a policewoman. He had both hands on his head and was talking quickly. When he saw me step out of the car, he dropped his hands, rushed to me, and engulfed me a tight, protective hug. “Oh, baby! Thank God you’re okay! That bastard!”
    I sobbed in Josh’s arms and looked up only when I began to stop shaking. “I’m fine, Josh. I’m going to be fine.”

NINETEEN

    BY Friday afternoon I had not only survived Kevin’s abduction but had made it through finals. After misdiagnosing Owen, I mistrusted my judgment while I was taking the DSM exam. I think I did well, but I probably didn’t ace it. Josh had stayed over every night and was feeding me constantly. I’d probably gained five pounds a day.
    I was seated with Adrianna and Owen inside Simmer. The weather was cool this afternoon, so we’d forgone the patio in favor of a table in the dining room. Officially, the restaurant was between lunch and dinner service, but Josh had filled our table with plates of food. His latest creation was running as a special: a phenomenal spaghetti and lobster with a fantastic green and red tomato sauce, flavored with saffron, ginger, and fennel, and then topped with fresh basil. Nothing made