CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Brynn cut the engine to her car, though her headlights remained on and directed toward the left side of Lance’s house. She hadn’t wanted to sleep alone tonight, not after hearing multiple conversations about Whitney Bell and where the killer might have dumped her body. It had been a godsend when she’d been able to announce last call.
She’d actually gotten out of the Cavern at a decent time, noting that the radio clock read two-forty-eight. Crawling into the security of Lance’s warm embrace was exactly what she needed right now, but first she had to find her cell phone that had slipped off the passenger seat when she’d made the turn into the driveway. That would teach her to take the time to run upstairs to her apartment for her purse instead of just grabbing her keys from the office.
“Damn it,” Brynn muttered, sliding her hand in between the passenger seat and the console.
She wiggled her fingertips. Her phone wasn’t there, which could only mean that it had either fallen underneath the seat or landed on the back floor. She opened the driver’s side door and fought the urge to stretch her muscles as she stood, knowing she’d be inside faster if she didn’t waste time. The headlights chose that moment to shut off, which was probably why she looked in that direction.
“Lance?”
Brynn couldn’t stop his name from escaping her lips even though her brain registered that the man standing a mere twenty feet away wasn’t Lance. Her throat seized on the letter C, and her palms became coated with perspiration that didn’t have anything to do with the humidity hanging in the air.
The threatening silhouette was positioned in front of the house. The lighting from the porch made it impossible to see the man’s features, but that wasn’t what put Brynn at a disadvantage. It was the fact that she’d stepped far enough away from her car that she couldn’t reach the steering wheel. One press of the horn would have alerted Lance that something was wrong, and he would have come running to her rescue.
As it stood, Brynn doubted she could make it back inside her car without this man reaching her first. She had no cell phone, the path to the house was blocked, and she doubted screaming would penetrate Lance’s bedroom windows located at the back of the house.
Neither she nor the intruder moved…yet.
Out of the clear blue, a memory from when she’d driven Rose’s vehicle for the first time in high school began to form in Brynn’s mind. Tiny was always giving her pieces of advice on how to protect herself. One of them was that ordinary things could be turned into a weapon.
One of those items was a set of keys.
Brynn instinctively shifted the car keys in her hand until one of the serrated edges was secured between her knuckles. Unfortunately, using her newfound weapon would have to be her last resort, because that would mean he would be close enough for her to use it.
Her options were limited, but her fight or flight instinct was kicking in. She had to make a decision soon.
The man made it for her by taking a step forward.
Brynn turned and ran, somehow instinctively knowing he’d reach her in a matter of seconds if she stayed on the driveway. She veered to the left where the reach of the light from the porch faded into the shadows. The darkness finally swallowed her whole, but by then all she could hear was the blood rushing through her eardrums.
She was now at a disadvantage.
It was getting harder to see the path in front of her, and she couldn’t make out any sound of his approach. She braved a glance over her shoulder, barely catching sight of his silhouette maybe ten feet away.
He was too close.
There wasn’t a chance in hell she was getting away from him, and she’d now distanced herself from the house. Maybe she could double back.
She had no choice but to take him by surprise.
Brynn was grateful she didn’t have time to think things through or else she doubted she would have gone ahead with stopping dead in her tracks. She spun around and used all her strength to swing her arm toward his face as if she were going to give him an uppercut to the jaw.
The serrated edge of the key made impact somewhere on the man’s face, though he somehow still managed to grab her arm. She unconsciously lifted her leg with all her might, sending him straight to his knees.
Brynn was wearing the t-shirt she’d worn to work behind the bar, so his grip had nothing to hold on to but her bare arm when she twisted away. She stumbled slightly, but she managed to gain footing as she took off at a dead run toward the house. There was no way in hell she was turning around to see if he’d gotten to his feet.
The best thing for her to do was head toward the back of the house, where Lance would be able to hear her. Screaming for help was her best option for several reasons. She couldn’t take on the attacker herself due to his size and Lance had a shotgun. Those suckers would put a stop to whatever this intruder wanted to take from the house.
“Lance! Lance!” Brynn didn’t care that the man heard her or that her frantic yelling gave away her location. “Help! Lance!”
Brynn had reached the back of the house and finally allowed herself the luxury of looking over her shoulder right before she rounded the corner. Her heart was already beating hard against her chest, but it literally slammed to a stop when she saw how close her pursuer had gotten in his attempt to reach her.
It was then that the front porch light shone brightly on his face, revealing his identity.
Clayton Schaeffer.
His face faded from view as she continued to run around the house, her adrenaline kicking in once more. She never stopped screaming for Lance, even as she passed by the upstairs windows.
Lance had to have heard her, and she didn’t doubt that he would be coming out the back door. The light shining from above was like a beacon to her location. Unfortunately, she couldn’t take the chance of stopping long enough for him to do so without risking Clayton catching up to her.
Brynn had no choice but to stop screaming long enough to take another breath, having practically no oxygen left in her lungs after yelling, running, and basically trying her best to stay alive. It was then she realized she was no longer being chased. There were no heavy footsteps on the ground behind her, nor did she hear Lance calling back to her.
Silence.
Brynn abruptly stopped, almost tripping over her own two feet. She was on the other side of the house, putting her in between the back and front yards. Light illuminated from both ends, revealing no one.
Not Clayton Schaeffer.
Not Lance.
The strong smell of gasoline hit her out of nowhere. No wonder the alarm system hadn’t been activated.
Clay hadn’t been trying to break into the house.
He’d been trying to burn it down.
“I didn’t want this.”
Brynn had been looking in both directions, not expecting Clayton to come up on her from behind. She spun around and took the stance Tiny had taught her to take should she ever need to fight. Some of her hair had fallen over her eyes, coming loose from the band the moment she’d started running. She whipped her head to the side to clear her view, not daring to lift her hands from their position.
“You don’t have to do this,” Brynn tried to reason, not wanting this confrontation to become physical. “You can—”
“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Clayton muttered, almost as if he were talking to himself. He ran a hand through his brown hair in desperation. That was not how she needed him to feel at the moment. “I heard you say you were staying at the bar tonight. You said you’d be staying there. Why aren’t you there?”
Clay was starting to ramble, which could only mean he was about to panic. Well, the sight of him pulling a Zippo from his front pocket had her panicking, too.
“You said yourself that you didn’t want to do this, Clayton.” The smell of gasoline was so strong, she was no doubt standing in it. If he were to light that thing and drop it, she’d be on fire before she could move. “Lance is inside, and I’m standing right here in front of you. We’ve known each other our whole lives, Clayton. Whatever you’ve done is in the past—”
“You think I killed that girl?” Clayton asked in disgust, looking at Brynn as if he didn’t know her at all. She’d aggravated him, when that was the last thing she wanted to do. He struck the wheel, igniting the lighter. “That’s why I have to burn the house, Brynn. You all think I could actually hurt Emma, Whitney, and those other girls.”
“What else are we supposed to think, Clayton?”
Brynn almost stumbled backward at the sound of Lance’s voice. He’d heard her scream, and he’d come to her rescue. Unfortunately, Clayton had already lit the Zippo lighter. Its flame was dancing in the early morning breeze as if it didn’t have a care in the world.
The shotgun in Lance’s hands could take care of the problem in front of them, but Brynn would probably be in flames before Clay hit the ground. Shotguns also threw a lot of sparks from the end of the barrel. It would only take one piece of burning propellant to ignite the fumes rising up from the ground.
She wasn’t ready to die.
She wasn’t ready to leave Lance behind.