Free Lake of Dreams by Linda Howard Page B

me.”
    Trust him! She almost laughed aloud, the hysterical bubble moving upward despite her best efforts. She finally choked the sound back. He’d said that so often that the two words had become a litany. Time and again she had trusted him—with her heart, her body, the life of her child—and each time he had turned on her.
    She found the lock, silently turned it.
    â€œThea, I know you’re awake. I know you can hear me.”
    She opened the door by increments, holding her breath against any squeaks that would alert him. An inch of space showed, gray light coming through the slot. Dawn was coming closer by the second, bringing with it the bright light that would make it impossible for her to hide from him. She didn’t have her car keys, she realized, and the knowledge almost froze her in place. But she didn’t dare go back for them; she would have to escape on foot. That might be best anyway. If she were in the car, he would easily be able to follow her. She felt far more vulnerable on foot, but hiding would be much easier.
    Finally the door was open enough that she could slip through. She held her breath as she left the precarious safety of the house. She wanted to cower behind its walls, but knew that he would soon break a window and get in, or kick down the door. He was a warrior, a killer. He could get in. She wasn’t safe there.
    The back stoop wasn’t enclosed, just a couple of steps with an awning overhead to keep out the rain. There was a screen door there, too. Cautiously she unlatched it, and began the torturous process of easing it open, nerves drawing tighter and tighter. Fiercely she concentrated, staring at the spring coil, willing it to silence. There was a tiny creak, one that couldn’t have been audible more than a few feet away, but sweat dampened her body. An inch, two inches, six. The opening grew wider. Eight inches. Nine. She began to slip through.
    Richard came around the side of the house. He saw her and sprang forward, like a great hunting beast.
    Thea cried out and jumped backward, slamming the kitchen door and fumbling with the lock. Too late! He would come through that door, lock or not. She sensed his determination and left the lock undone, choosing instead an extra second of time as she sprinted for the front door.
    The back door slammed open just as she reached the front. It was still locked. Her chest heaved with panic, her breath catching just behind her breastbone and going no deeper. Her shaking, jerking fingers tried to manipulate the chain, the lock.
    â€œThea!” His voice boomed, reverberating with fury.
    Sobbing, she jerked the door open and darted out onto the porch, shoving the outside screen door open, too, launching herself through it, stumbling, falling to her knees in the tall, wet grass.
    He burst through the front door. She scrambled to her feet, pulled the hem of her nightgown to her knees, and ran for the road.
    â€œDamn it, listen to me!” he shouted, sprinting to cut her off. She swerved as he lunged in front of her, but he managed once again to get between her and the road.
    Despair clouded her vision; sobs choked her. She was cornered. He was going to kill her, and once again she was helpless to protect herself.
    She let her nightgown drop, the folds covering her feet, as she stared at him with tear-blurred eyes. The gray light was stronger now; she could see the fierceness of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the sheen of perspiration on his skin. He wore only a pair of jeans. No shirt, no shoes. His powerful chest rose and fell with his breathing, but he wasn’t winded at all, while she was exhausted. She had no chance against him.
    Slowly she began to back away from him, the pain inside her unfurling until it was all she could do to breathe, for her heart to keep beating. “How could you?” she sobbed, choking on the words. “Our baby . . .  How could you? ”
    â€œThea, listen to