L: Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. In saving Detective Carter, there will be an investigation into Milo’s death, and I can’t put you in that compromising position. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I will think of you always.
Before pressing send, she locked the phone, and shoved it into her pocket, her decision final. One way or another, she was leaving this town, either on a bus or in a hearse.
The cross dangled from her wrist, swinging gently as she leaned over, and lifted the bottle of holy water from the floor. Flask would have been a better description for the metal container Benji provided, and a part of her wondered if his career change was the result of many poor decisions, not just one.
Shoving the flask in her back pocket, she rooted through the clothing for Cassius' car keys. With enough of a head start, she could drive to her house, dig up Milo's body, drive to Ethan's house, perform the exorcism, and leave town before Cassius realized her intentions... She just needed to send him in the wrong direction.
The corner of her mouth pulled when she found the keys hiding in his pants pocket. After grabbing them, she rose, and, with guilt flooding her body, took one final glance at the bathroom door, then slipped noiselessly out of the bedroom.
Tiptoeing through Cassius' darkened house, Lara paused at the front door, and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. Before pressing send, she added the lie that would throw Cassius off her trail.
L: Milo is in his grave, where he belongs. Bring a shovel.
She heard Cassius' phone ping upstairs, muffled vibrations echoed through the floor. The water in the shower cut off.
“Lara?” Cassius' confused voice came from the bathroom doorway.
Digging her teeth into her lip, Lara yanked open the front door, and slipped out, closing the door with a light click. Cassius’ keys dug into her palm as she darted toward the car, her head swiveling left and right.
Unlocking the car, she ripped the door open, and dove into the driver’s seat. She slammed the door and glanced to her left, expecting to find Cassius’ irate face glaring at her through the glass, but there was only darkness. She threw the car into reverse, and zipped out of the driveway, heading toward her home, and the sunflower patch.
“Add car theft to the resume.” Her voice wavered, and a high-pitched giggle exploded from her lips, ricocheting around the car. Her gaze jumped to the rear-view mirror.
Cassius would believe she'd run, abandoning Detective Carter to Milo's devious desires, and, after wasting several hours digging up an empty casket, she was fairly certain he'd never forgive her, even after she'd exorcised Milo's spirit. Would Cassius think she seduced him just to throw him off-guard?
That hadn’t been her intention. She planned to feign the headache, go to bed, and wait until she could sneak out unnoticed, but when she turned around... Her resolve faltered. She wanted the fantasy, to pretend for one night that her life was normal, and she caved.
It was just an hour, what harm could it do?
With Cassius heading the opposite direction toward the graveyard—or at least he would be once he read her message—Lara slowed as she entered Mendville's two-block downtown area. She wasn’t sure if the off-duty officers who frequented the all-night diner would recognize Cassius’ dark car, but she didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she’d stolen the vehicle. Keeping her head low, she rolled by the diner, her arm blocking her face. As she passed the large picture window, decorated with cartoonish waffles and eggs, she heard one of them yell out Cassius’ name.
Refusing to turn her head, she continued at the same pace, her fingers kneading the steering wheel until they turned white. Her eyes flicked to the rear-view mirror. The cop thrust his arm up, making a rude gesture, and stomped into the diner. Cassius wasn't making any friends in the precinct tonight.
She exhaled and turned right. Her foot pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car lurched forward and barreled down the streetlamp dotted road. She skidded to a stop across from her house, squealing the tires, and twisted in the seat, her gaze sliding over the darkened windows of her neighbors’ houses.
Climbing from the car, she glared at the empty street. No curious neighbors peeped at her through slitted lace curtains, clucking at the late hour. They’d learned to ignore the Angelov home, never reporting the blood-chilling screams emanating from the house during Lara's first year of marriage. And when old Mr. Morris caught her planting the first sunflower along the fence line, just before sunrise, her body covered in soil and blood, he said nothing, merely turned away, like he always had, his eyes refusing to meet hers.
There were no condolences for Milo's tragic accident, no flowers, no casseroles to warm for sixty seconds in the microwave... and when Milo returned that horrific night to resume his torment, the neighborhood shuttered itself to her suffering.
This was not a town she'd miss.
Darting across the street, Lara slowed as she reached the picket fence. Melting into the shadows, she followed her property line, skirting the sunflower patch, and stopped across from the doors leading to the cellar. A room she hadn't entered since Milo... A shiver rippled down her spine. She swallowed and reached out. As her hand closed around the cold metal handle, she was assaulted by the memory of Milo's dark whisper brushing over her skin.
“You’ve been very bad, Lara,” Milo said, his fingers biting into the upper flesh of her arm, “and do you know what I do to bad girls? I punish them.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, and ripped her dress from her body, discarding it on the floor. With a butcher knife, he sliced through the delicate material of her bra and panties, leaving the colorful scraps beside her ruined dress. Then, weaving his fingers through her hair, he dragged her naked out the front door, and paraded her across the lawn. After escorting her around the side of the house, Milo flung her toward the cellar doors with an explosion of expletives.
She crashed into the raised side of the cellar entrance, the air knocked from her body. Splinters from the rough wood gouged her bare stomach. Milo leaned over, and flipped her onto her back, the weight of his body grinding into her hips. He pushed her legs apart.
Slapping him, Lara struggled against his bulk. One hand captured her wrists, and pinned them above her head, and he dug his erection into her, the seam of his pants rubbing across her exposed center. His free hand slipped under her chin, squeezing the oxygen from her throat as he dry-humped her. His tongue slithered over her cheek, leaving a trail of lust.
“You have two choices,” he growled in her ear, “either spend the week in the cellar, or let me carve my name into your chest.”
A flash of movement drew Lara's attention. Her gaze flicked to the fence line, catching the eye of Mr. Morris. He reddened, set down his garbage bag, twisting away, and shuffled into his house, closing the door behind him.
He didn't even try to help her. Numbness rolled through her body.
“Maybe I should fuck you first, give them all a show.” Milo released her throat and reached between them, his fingers pushing between her thighs, probing deep in her core. Pain accompanied the stab of his fingers. His teeth nipped at her ear. “It'll be a while before you earn my forgiveness. Would you like something to remember me by?”
“No,” she whispered, fighting to keep the tears from pouring down her cheeks.