The car door squeaked open. Her heels munched on the gravel. From my peripheral vision, I saw her come into view. She huffed, folded her arms in front of her chest, and pushed out her hip. Quite the attitude for a woman without a working car or cell phone.
“What’s wrong with it?” Her voice had an edge of annoyance to it.
“I’m not so sure. I’m not a mechanic, Grace.”
“You promised it’d be fixed by today.”
I turned my head toward her and a sinister smile slowly crept its way across my face. The mask beginning to slip. “I promised a lot of things.”
“What the hell does that mean?” she nearly yelled.
I couldn’t help but laugh and, in an instant, I was lunging toward her. She had no time to react. Grace tried to swat me away, but her pretty blond hair was already wrapped around my hand. She screamed so loud her voice cracked.
“I promised I’d let you leave, and we both know that’s not happening,” I said, dragging her back toward the house. Her legs gave out, and she kicked at the ground. One of her heels slipped off. A Cinderella in the making. Grace’s hands shot up to my arms. She pinched and slapped and clawed. Her nails dug into my skin, drawing blood.
“Fucking bitch,” I yelled. Stopping just before the steps, I struck her in the side of the head with my other hand. It was a warning. She cried out.
“Let me go,” she screamed, kicking and flailing.
“It’s too late for that,” I said, caressing her face with my hand. “You shouldn’t have come here, Grace, but I’m glad you did.” I smiled.
She craned her head and opened her mouth, snapping at my hand. I didn’t pull away fast enough and her teeth clenched down on my pinky finger. A pained scream escaped my mouth, and I released my grip on her. Grace hit the ground and bit down harder. I tried to pull away, but her bite was like a vice. My steel-toed boot struck her ribs and she coughed, forcing her pretty little mouth open. My finger was a mangled bloody mess with bone exposed. Grace rolled to her side, coughing and gurgling on my blood.
“That wasn’t smart, Grace.”
She was on all fours, trying to stand, while I ripped the sleeve of my T-shirt off and wrapped it around my hand. The pain was nearly unbearable, and I hoped Dr. Reed would be able to fix it. I thought she’d try to run. I enjoyed the chase. But instead, she completely caught me by surprise. Grace charged at me, hitting me in the stomach like a lineman on a football field. I gasped, falling backward. This wasn’t the first time she took my breath away. When I first laid eyes on her, I knew she’d be a fighter. My back cracked against the wooden porch step. I winced and rolled to the side. While I collected myself, she was already running back into the house. Had she ever seen a horror movie? You never run back inside.
“Where are you going, Grace?” I yelled, getting to my feet.
I threw open the screen door. The living room was empty. The kitchen was empty.
“Oh, Graaaace . . . where are you?” I sang out like a child playing hide-and-seek.
No answer, but I heard shuffling down the hallway. I walked toward the noise nonchalantly, running my fingers along the wall, taking my time. The hunt is always much more fun than the catch.
I sang slowly as I strolled down the hallway.
“Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me,
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.”
The bathroom door was open. Empty. Albert’s room was the same. That left two rooms—the room she had stayed in and my bedroom. Both doors were closed. I went to the guest room first and, rather than opening it, I simply turned the lock. If she was in there, she’d stay in there until I said otherwise. I walked to the end of the hall where my bedroom was, the last one on the left. As I put my hand on the door handle, I felt a wave of dizziness come over me. I rubbed my forehead and patted my cheeks, immediately regretting getting into the bottle of whiskey last night. Turning the handle, I threw the door open. There she was, my amazing Grace, standing in the corner, holding my knife. She must have found it when she was snooping around the basement. Such a naughty guest. The sun seeped through the window and hit the blade, making it shimmer. What separated me from her was my king bed and a desk off to the side with my computer. Grace held the blade out steadily. Her blue, blue eyes fixated on me.
“Oh, you want to take this to the bedroom?” I chuckled. “I knew you were an easy lay but this takes the cake, Miss Grace.”
I took another step toward her. Her knuckles were white from gripping the handle of the knife so tightly.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she said.
That dizzy feeling hit me again, causing me to stumble to the side. I caught myself on the desk and stood upright. Why had I drunk so much last night? I knew I had a big day ahead of me. The room began to spin like I was on a merry-go-round. Grace was at the center of it, still and beautiful and unmoved by what I was going through.
“You’re the one that shouldn’t have come here, Calvin,” she said.
The room spun faster and faster, and no matter how fast it spun, everything was a blur but Grace. I wanted to close my eyes and never open them again, but I forced them though they begged to be closed. I fell to the bed, rolling onto my back. My head spun. And then I felt like I was floating, just above myself, just enough to see nearly everything . . . everything but Grace.
“What’s happening to me?” I yelled. I tried to bring my hand to my head but I felt paralyzed. The only thing I could do was blink and look up at that popcorn ceiling. The ceiling fan spun ’round and ’round, much slower than the rest of the room.
Her one heel clicked against the floor, and then she was standing over me. Her eyes stared into mine. I tried to swing my arm at her but I couldn’t pick it off of my chest. My other arm laid by my side, stuck, like concrete had been poured around it. Grace pressed the tip of the knife against her finger and twirled it like she was taunting me.
“What did you do to me?” I asked.
“A little of this. A little of that.”
My heartbeat pulsated in my feet, my neck, my arms. It was usually steady but now it raced.
“Is this about that goddamn missing bitch?” I spit.
“Is she here?” Grace tilted her head.
My eyelids so badly wanted to close. Tears streamed from the corners of them, slithering down the sides of my face. I struggled again to move my arms and legs. Nothing.
“Yes.” Even speaking became a chore, every muscle in my body seizing up, useless.
“Is she alive?”
“I think so.”
Grace nodded.
“Did you really think you’d be able to keep me here?” she asked.
“Just . . . stupid bitch.”
“That’s not very nice, Calvin. You shouldn’t call people names.” She raised the knife above her head.
“Please . . . no,” I begged. “Just call the police. The girl is . . . in . . . a shed . . . the woods. Forty yards . . . behind the apiary.”
She tilted her head to the other side. “Did you kill Albert?”
“No.” I panted. “That bitch . . . was . . . hollering and . . . Albert’s drunk ass . . . must . . . have heard it. He stumbled right . . . into the bees.”