Twisted

hurt.”
    “Shhhh.”
    Without his seeing, her hand slipped to her jacket pocket where she’d put her cell phone. She’d turned it back on after the mix-up with Carly earlier. She didn’t, however, think she could hit 911 without looking. But her finger found the “send” button. By pressing it twice the phone would call the last number dialed. Rich Musgrave’s. She hoped his phone was still on and that he’d hear what was happening. He’d call the police. Or possibly even return to the house. Anthony wouldn’t dare hurt her in front of a witness—and Rich was a large man and looked very strong. He outweighed her ex by fifty pounds.
    She pressed the button now. After a moment she said, “You’re scaring me, Anthony. Please leave.”
    “Scaring you?”
    “I’ll call the police.”
    “If you stand up I’ll break your arm. Are we clear on that?”
    She nodded, terrified but thankful, at least, that if Rich was listening, he would have heard this exchange and probably be calling the police now.
    Dalton looked under the tree. “Is my present there?” He browsed through the packages, seeming disappointed that there was none with his name on it.
    She recalled this too: One minute he’d be fine. The next, completely out of touch with reality. He’d been hospitalized three times when they were married. Susan remembered telling Carly that herfather had to go to Asia on monthlong business trips.
    “Nothing for poor me,” he said, standing back from the tree.
    Susan’s jaw trembled. “I’m sorry. If I’d known—”
    “It’s a joke, Susan,” he said. “Why would you get me anything? You didn’t love me when we were married; you don’t love me now. The important thing is that I got you something. After the scare about what’d happened to you this afternoon I went shopping. I wanted to find just the right present.”
    Dalton drank down more wine and refilled his glass. He eyed her carefully. “Probably better if you stay snuggled in right where you are. I’ll open it for you.”
    Her eyes glanced at the box. It had been carelessly wrapped—by him, of course—and he ripped the paper off roughly. He lifted out something cylindrical, made of metal.
    “It’s a camping heater. Carly said you’d taken that up. Hiking, out-of-doors . . . Interesting that you never liked to do anything fun when we were married.”
    “I never liked to do anything with you,” she said angrily. “You’d beat me up if I said the wrong thing or didn’t do what you’d told me.”
    Ignoring her words, he handed her the heater. Then he took out something else. A red can. On the side: Kerosene. “Of course,” Anthony continued, frowning, “that’s one bad thing about Christmas . . . lot of accidents this time of year. You read that article in USA Today ? Fires, particularly. Lot of people die in fires.”
    He glanced at the warning label and took a cigarette lighter from his pocket.
    “Oh, God, no! . . . Please. Anthony.”
    It was then that Susan heard a car’s brakes squeal outside. The police? Or was it Rich?
    Or was it her imagination?
    Anthony was busying himself taking the lid off the kerosene.
    Yes, there were definitely footsteps on the walk. Susan prayed it wasn’t Carly.
    Then the doorbell rang. Anthony looked toward the front door, startled.
    And as he did, Susan flung the champagne glass into his face with all her strength and leapt to her feet, sprinting for the door. She glanced behind her to see Anthony stumbling backward. The glass had broken and cut his chin. “Goddamn bitch!” he roared, starting for her.
    But she had a good head start and flung the door open.
    Rich Musgrave stood there, eyes wide in shock. “What?”
    “It’s my ex!” she gasped. “He’s trying to kill me!”
    “Jesus,” Rich said. He put his arm around her. “Don’t worry, Susan.”
    “We have to get away! Call the police.”
    She took his hand and started to flee into the front yard.
    But Rich didn’t move. What the hell was he doing? Did he want to fight ? This was no time for any chivalry crap. “Please, Rich. We have to run!”
    Then she felt his hand tighten on hers. The gripbecame excruciating. His other hand took her by the waist and he turned her around. He shoved her back inside. “Yo, Anthony,” Rich called, laughing. “Lose something?”

    In despair, Susan sat on the couch and sobbed.
    They’d tied her hands and feet with Christmas ribbon, which would burn away, leaving no evidence