Ambushed by M.E. McAndrews
Chapter 30
Olivia
I wake up disoriented, and I take a moment to realize I’m in my own bed. Something is wrong. The room is in total darkness, and the sound of the rain beats against the windows. I sit up with a sense of unease, realizing that the power must be out, and I'm suddenly very aware of how alone I am in my dark, lonely house.
I fumble for my phone, hoping to use the light from the screen to guide me in the dark. Shit. It's dead. I've been so out of it lately; I didn't even think to put it on the charger. I need to find a flashlight, or a candle, something to help me see. I feel my way down the hallway, sweeping my fingertips along the wall, using each doorway as a landmark to the stairs. The darkness is like a heavy weight, crushing in on me from all sides, the claustrophobia making it difficult to breathe.
I inch my way down the dark stairs, using the railing to help speed my progress. When I reach the kitchen, I'm relieved to find Seth's old flashlight stashed in the junk drawer. I turn it on and the beam of light cuts through the darkness like a beacon. But it flickers and pulsates. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. It's barely got any juice left in it.
I tell myself there's nothing to be afraid of, that this is just a typical power outage. But I can't shake the unease that churns in the pit of my belly.
I make my way back upstairs to my bedroom, the flashlight threatening the entire way to throw me back into total darkness. I crawl back into bed and try to get comfortable, closing my eyes and pulling the comforter over my head to block out the sound of the rain and the total darkness that fills the room.
It's painfully quiet without the hum of the house. Most of the time I never even hear the refrigerator, but now that it has stopped running, I notice the frightening loudness of its silence.
I jolt upright in bed, my heart racing as I hear the familiar creak of the back door. I sit frozen, sure to not make a sound. What if it's Austin? He's come to finish whatever he started. I need to get the hell out of here. Now. I leap to my feet and tiptoe toward the bedroom door.
More footsteps stop me in my tracks. I bite my lip, trying to keep quiet, holding my breath. My mind races. Do I hide in the closet and hope whoever it is doesn't find me? I can't just stand here and do nothing. Can I?
The pinewood floor downstairs creaks again with the weight of the intruder’s footsteps, followed by the soft sound of a door opening as they move through the main level of the house. I peer out the bedroom window, surveying the darkness to see if there’s any clue of who might be inside my house. It occurs to me I used to sneak out through this very window when I was in high school, and I’m glad now that Seth and I never moved into my parents’ master bedroom after their death. I can get out and onto the roof of the back porch from here if I need to.
I carefully open the window, trying desperately to do it without making a sound. The cool damp air rushes in, and when the window is open far enough for me to fit through, I climb onto the drenched roof, rain pouring down on me. My fear and adrenaline tell me to hurry, but I restrain myself and tiptoe lightly to be as silent as possible.
The rain continues pouring down from the sky, pelting me relentless with bone-chilling daggers. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come.
A bolt of lighting flashes in the sky, followed by a booming clap of thunder. The deep rumble echoes off the surrounding mansions. I make it to the edge of the roof where the large limb of the old oak tree overhangs. The same limb I climbed onto so many years ago. Only now much larger. The limb dips from my heavier weight of my years, but holds me as I shimmy toward its source at the trunk of the tree.
I haven’t gotten any more agile with my extra years, but my body remembers what it has done so many times before, and it’s not overly challenging. Until I get to the trunk of the tree. It’s wet and slippery, and much wider than I remember it. Getting to the ground the old way, by wrapping my arms and legs around it and shimmying down, is out of the question.
I crouch on the limb and lean back against the trunk to figure out what to do next. I can’t stay here all night in the rain, so I decide to go for it. I sweep my legs off the edge of the limb, and wrap my hands tightly around it. When my grip is sure, I lower myself from the limb, holding on tight until my body and legs are hanging beneath me. Under the weight of my body, the rough bark scrapes the skin from my palms, and my feet dangle below me, still a full meter above the ground.
It's a long drop, but there’s no turning back now, so I close my eyes tight and release my grip, hoping there’s nothing sharp or too hard hiding in the darkness on the ground below.
I hit the ground with a heavy thud, biting my tongue when my knees impact my chin from the force of the fall. The metallic taste of blood reminds me of the threat lurking inside the house, so I quickly roll myself on the soggy ground to the other side of the tree so as not to be seen.
I scurry through the backyard, trying to stay in the shadows formed by the trees beneath the street lights, finding it strange that they still have power. They must be on a different electric line than the houses.
“Olivia!”
I freeze, slipping on the wet grass and falling on my butt into the mud.
It’s Austin.
I want to scream for help, but I'm paralyzed by fear. His flashlight beam stretches across the yard as he hurries toward me. “What the hell are you doing?” he yells, catching his breath. “Are you okay?”
“I...I... um...” I stutter, my mind racing. What am I supposed to say? I’m escaping a crazy psycho man named Austin in my house? I need to get the hell out of here, so I leap up from the ground and try to escape, but he grabs my arm.
“Let go of me,” I snap, my fear filling me with a burst of unusual strength. I yank my arm from his grip.
“Olivia, what the hell are you doing?” he repeats, this time with insistent determination.
“I should be asking you that,” I shoot back, my fear turning to anger.
He runs his fingers through his soaked hair. “Taking my trash out before going to bed. I saw you climbing in that tree like a damn monkey. Is everything alright?”
I freeze, my voice catches in my throat. “I-I thought you were someone else.”
“What?” He moves closer and the beam from his flashlight lands on my eyes, blinding me.
“Jesus!” I reach up to shield my eyes, wincing at the pain of the light. “What the fuck, Austin? Are you trying to blind me?”
“What the hell are you doing?” he demands again, taking another step toward me. He pauses, pulling back his hand to relieve my eyes from the blinding light. When I can see again, I notice the rain dripping from his nose, his ears, and his chin. “Why are you so afraid of me?”
Another streak of white lightning lights up the sky, followed by a thunderous roar.
“I'm not,” I lie.
He steps toward me, pulling me into his arms, and I let him. I let him hold me, his powerful arms holding me close to his chest, and I feel a sense of safety that I didn’t expect. Only moments ago, I was deathly afraid of him, certain that it was him inside my house. I should be shaking, trembling with fear, as I stand here, paralyzed and trapped in the arms of my enemy.
“There’s someone in my house. I heard them.” My breath catches in my chest, his hard body pressing against mine, his hands on my waist.
“Okay. How about you come over to my house? I’ll get you some dry clothes and you can get warm while I come back here and take a look.”
I nod hesitantly. He must know who it is inside the house. Right?
My heart beats wildly in my chest, like a drum on the battlefield, sending waves of fear and anxiety through my body. I nod again, and he tucks me under his arm, pulling me against him as we trudge through the soggy mud to his house.
“Are you going to be alright?” he asks, his arm wrapped protectively around my waist as we walk.
“I’ll be fine,” I lie, staring down at my muddy bare feet.
“You’re shaking.”
I gaze up at him. “I’m just cold. I’ll be okay.”
“Uh, huh.” He nods his understanding. “You can stay in my guest room,” he says. “Or whatever room. It doesn’t matter.”
I follow him up the driveway, and he pushes open the front door, motioning for me to step through into the brightly lit foyer.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, a quick kiss to my forehead. “You good?”
“Okay, yeah, I’m alright.” I want to believe my words, but I can’t shake the dread that’s percolating in my stomach.
He shuts the door behind him and twists the lock. My blood pounds in my ears as my eyes dart nervously around his empty luxurious home. If he’s in on it with someone, then they’re probably talking about me right now. He’ll tell them I escaped by climbing down the tree; and that I’m an easy target, resting helplessly in his living room.
I rock my head. God. I’m sounding paranoid.
I take a step away from the door. This entire night is weirdly fortunate. I’ll probably never have a better opportunity to get that file Austin has on my husband. Here I am, and he’s not.
And the power is back on. Perfect.
I have little time. A few minutes at the most, so I hurry through the living room and up the stairs. I stop for a moment at the front window and look across the street.
Strange. My house is still dark.
I continue up the stairs and open the door to the master bedroom, and as usual, everything is in its pristine condition, like no one lives here. I race across the room to where the dresser is located, a flash of lightning illuminating the room and casting sharp shadows across the wall as I move. The ghostly glow is an eerie warning that the danger of this game is real.
I reach the far wall, and slide the dresser drawer open.
My heart sinks. Shit!
The drawer is empty. There’s nothing inside but the faint smell of cologne. The emptiness is like a hollow pit, dark and still with no remnants of what used to be here.
I clench my jaw and grit my teeth. It must be in the house somewhere. My eyes dart frantically around the room, scanning every alcove and corner, hoping to find a clue. I rifle feverishly through the other dresser drawers and closets, tossing clothing and other items aside, my movements becoming increasingly chaotic as time ticks away.
I rush to his office and flick on the lights, before rummaging through his credenza, pulling out drawers and shuffling through papers. But I can't find anything. I am about to give up when I spot a small USB drive in the corner of the bottom drawer of the credenza. I pick it up, turning it over in my fingers.
The label, written in white liquid marker, reads: 559 Springer Mt. Rd.. My fucking address. This could be it, or something, I think. Could there be something here to uncover the truth about my husband's death?
I insert the USB into the computer on Austin's desk, waiting as the files load. My heart is in my throat as I scroll through the sub-folders, not sure what I will find. I click on the folder icon, my hands shaking as I open the first file.
It is a report from what appears to be a private investigator, detailing my husband’s activities during the days leading up to his death. Seeing such a detailed description of my husband sparks an incredulous sense of violation, as if something has ripped away every ounce of my privacy. I can’t believe that Austin had been trailing my husband.
As I read through the report, the clock of my mind is reversed, opening up the not-yet-old wounds of the pain and loss that I’ve suffered since Seth’s death. But, it gives me a slight glimmer of hope. This is evidence I may be able to use to confront Austin. To finally get some answers I’ve been seeking for so long.
Still, some part of me desperately doesn’t want any of what I’m reading to be true.
Tears stream down my face as I realize the extent of Austin's deception.
I withdraw the USB and tuck it in my bra.
I need to get out of here, so I hurry down the stairs, my heart racing with adrenaline. I’ve got to get away from Austin and his secrets. But as I reach the bottom of the stairs, I run straight into him, literally. My face collides with his solid chest, sending up a splash of water from his soaked shirt.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” he asks, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
I try to push past him, but he blocks my way. “Olivia?” He grasps my wrist.
I hesitate, knowing that I can't tell him the truth. “I just needed some air,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“Upstairs?” Austin doesn’t buy it. He steps closer, his eyes searching mine. “What are you hiding, Olivia?”
I try to keep my expression neutral, but feel my façade crumbling. Austin is too perceptive, too smart. My mouth dries and my stomach tightens. I don't know what to say.
“There's no one in your house, by the way,” he says flatly. “At least I didn't see them. Or are you not worried about them anymore?”