He squeezed her jaw so tightly she could feel her teeth grind against the inside of her cheek and tasted blood.
“But you know what? It doesn’t matter if you can identify me or not because you’re not going to be alive to tell anyone about me.”
Paige couldn’t help herself, she whimpered.
“You ruined my pattern. I tried to start over but it wasn’t the same. I’ve waited to get to you for two years. Two years.” He threw her back down again. She could make out his shoes from where he stood in front of her. “So I’m going to finish you off today. Burn you until there’s nothing left. Today I save another man —probably that handsome detective— from making the mistake of taking someone like you as a wife. Someone who will just use him. Betray, abandon, steal.”
His foot flew out again, but this time she couldn’t turn away fast enough. He caught her in the ribs. Agony blasted through her as she fell to the side, gasping for air. A second later another kick caught her in the hip. Paige huddled into a ball trying to protect herself. She waited for another brutal blow, but it didn’t come.
Instead a few moments later liquid poured down on her.
Gasoline.
It soaked her hair and shirt. Breathing became nearly impossible through the fumes.
“I won’t make the same mistake as last time. This time when the building burns, you burn with it.”
She heard the sickening sound of a lighter being flicked on and off, as he opened and closed it with a snapping motion of one hand. She sat up, struggling to get air through both the gasoline and the agony in her ribs.
“It’s your fault I must leave and start my pattern again. And I will, you know.” His shoes began to pace back and forth in front of the stairs. “I’ll just begin the pattern somewhere else. But this time I won’t let anyone ruin it.”
Paige shifted to try to get some relief for her ribs and felt the drawing of herself under her hand. The gasoline had dripped down onto it and blurred the image.
Paige crumpled the picture, ignoring Anderson as he continued to monologue about… whatever the hell reason he had for torturing and killing women. She didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t going to cower in front of him any longer. If she was going to die here, so be it.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t take this bastard with her.
Using the last of her strength she burst up from the ground and propelled herself at the darkness that was Anderson. She heard his curse as she slammed into him, flinging them both down the stairs. She grabbed at the banister to catch herself, but it broke off in her hand. Anderson’s scream echoed in her ears and she knew this was the end —that these were the steps where she’d meet her death— as she hit the bottom and everything went dark.
All the pain disappeared.
But a few moments later it was back. Darkness still surrounded her. Somehow she wasn’t dead.
“It’s amazing.” Anderson’s voice was right over her. “Look at you. You’re lying exactly as you were in that drawing. You drew yourself dead before it even happened.” He gave a sickening chuckle.
But she wasn’t dead. How was it possible she wasn’t dead? She could feel the jagged piece of wood in her hand, just like the picture. Could feel the bend of her leg at the angle she’d drawn it, draped over the stairs.
But she wasn’t dead.
Maybe this time, this one time, instead of drawing the moment of the victim’s death, she’d drawn the moment the victim determined to live.
“I don’t care if you’re dead, you’re still going to burn,” Anderson said. She heard the lighter flick again.
“Not today.” She forced the words past her battered lips. Heard his gasp.
Calling on her last bit of strength, Paige brought the wood from the banister still resting in her grip and slammed it with every bit of force she could muster into Anderson’s head. He fell over, moaning and she twisted herself up, bringing the club of wood down against his head again.
This time he fell over for good, his neck landing at a sickening angle. The darkness surrounding Anderson disappeared and Paige could finally see him. His aura was gone.
Boyd Anderson was dead.
Paige crumpled back onto the steps, completely spent.
She watched as the lighter fell out of his hand and onto the floor, still flaming. The gasoline that had been dripping off her body was now almost to the open flame. She forced herself to move, sobbing in agony as she tried to pull herself back up the stairs, but realized that with the gasoline still dripping off her clothes the flame would chase her no matter where she went.
It seemed like she couldn’t outrun death after all.
Paige closed her eyes wishing she could do more. Her breathing was becoming more and more labored, air harder to pull into her lungs. Anderson’s kicks followed by the fall down the stairs had done some pretty serious damage. Even if the fire didn’t get her, she wasn’t going to make it out of here alive.
She just wished she could see Brett one more time.
And then as if her thoughts had conjured him, he was there, weapon drawn, stomping the line of flames snaking its way towards her. Alex was right behind him. She could see relief on Brett’s face as their eyes met, before it was swallowed by concern.
Brett turned and muttered something to Alex who pulled out his phone. Paige couldn’t hear them. Nothing seemed to be working right. She couldn’t even get up from the stairs.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Brett crouched right in front of her, his purples and blues such a refreshing change from the black. He brushed her hair back from her forehead, gently. Sweetly. “We’ve got an ambulance coming.”
“My drawing was wrong,” she murmured. “I didn’t die.”
“Damn right you didn’t.”
“I don’t want to draw any more. Never again. I’ll stick to painting.” Breathing was becoming more difficult.
“Don’t talk sweetie, okay?” She could see gray starting to overtake Brett’s other colors. His fear. Worry for her.
“I’m just going to rest.”
“Paige, no baby. No resting. Not yet. Open those gorgeous blue eyes, okay? If you do, I’ll tell you about how I thought your eyes were so gorgeous even in high school…”
She tried to open her eyes, she really did. Wanted to know if he was telling the truth. And she’d had enough of darkness, even the normal kind that came from closing one’s eyes. But she couldn’t keep them open.
The darkness pulled her under once again.
It was the longest two days of Brett’s life.
By the time the paramedics arrived Paige’s breathing was shallow. Panic had Brett's heart hammering against his ribs. The danger had not died with Boyd Anderson.
Paige’s internal injuries had been severe. One lung punctured, the other completely collapsed. Concussion, dislocated shoulder.
They’d kept her in a medically induced coma to give her body a chance to heal. Brett had refused to leave her side, informing the hospital that he was Paige’s fiancé.
Hell, it had worked in a movie once, so it had been worth a try. Anything to be able to stay with her.
Then Paige’s sisters, Adrienne and Chloe, showed up a few hours later. They spent a long time talking to the doctors to find out Paige’s exact status and seemed reassured when they were told she would be waking up soon.
More importantly he’d been glad they hadn’t had him thrown out.
“Fiancé?” Chloe asked.
Brett shrugged. “Worked in While You Were Sleeping.”
Chloe grinned. “That’s true.”
Adrienne, obviously in her third trimester of pregnancy, had brought her husband Conner. After talking to the doctors, she’d asked her husband to leave before Brett could even talk to him.
Brett found it interesting that Conner Perigo rolled his eyes, but did it.
“You’ve got five minutes,” he said to Adrienne on his way out the door. “I’m not leaving you here unshielded any longer than that.”
She blew him a kiss. “I only need three.”
Brett gave the two women a confused look. “I have no idea what’s going on.”
“Adrienne wants to make sure you’re a good guy. Not going to hurt Paige. She can’t do that if Conner’s around.” Chloe shrugged. She turned to her sister. “I could still read Brett, Adrienne. You didn’t have to make Conner leave.”
“What do you mean, read me?” Brett asked.
Chloe ignored him. “He’s got no thoughts but whether Paige is going to be alright and if he’s going to pull his badge if we try to kick him out of the room.”
Brett nearly choked on his shock. Those were the exact things he’d been thinking.
“I need to know for myself. He’s who Paige has chosen.” Adrienne’s voice was softer, more like Paige’s and less like Chloe’s more animated one. Her face was already pinched.
“I’m not really her fiancé,” Brett said. “I just want to make sure you know that.”
Adrienne nodded. “But you’re still who she’s chosen.”
He reached out to Adrienne who was looking paler than she had a minute ago. “Are you okay?”
She smiled, although it still looked a little pained. “I was going to ask if I could touch your arm, but I don’t have to. It’s nice to meet such a clear good guy.”