Chapter Nineteen
Dalen stopped by a florist and purchased Rory a dozen red roses. He also added a fuzzy white bear with a plaque that said. “I wuv you.” He signed a get-well card and gathered up his purchases. Then he hurried home and parked in the garage. Dalen bounded up the stairs and into the bedroom, expecting to find Rory sleeping.
She wasn't under the covers, so he checked the bathroom, the other room, and the balcony. Then he ran through the house calling her name, but she didn't answer. After searching the other rooms, he raced back up the stairs and back in the bedroom he'd shared with her the last week.
The room felt hollow and empty. Even the scent of her perfume no longer lingered in the air. He noticed her toiletries were gone and before he opened the closet, he knew her clothes wouldn't be there. There were some outfits still hanging and lots of hangers poking out, indicating she'd packed in a rush. Had she been planning it the whole time she'd sat downstairs and talked to him, acting normal?
Pain exploded behind his eyes, and he fell to the floor, grasping his head. She was gone. He'd never hold her or make love to her again. He'd never see her smile or hear her laugh. No, he refused to accept that. Ricky would know where she went, he thought, hopping to his feet and running downstairs, after taking an item from his sock drawer.
He drove seventy over to the Abramson place and pounded on the door. No one answered, so he went around back and pounded on that door. When there was still no answer, he used his arm to break a window and climbed through. He searched the house on the off chance she'd just returned home, but there was no sign of her. He listened to the answering machine when he saw the blinking message light.
The first three messages were from friends of her parents, relaying condolences about Leigh's father's death. The fourth message was Leigh reminding Ricky and Rory they'd be back the next morning. The fifth message was pay dirt. He listened to Rory tell her parents to be careful of him and his mouth tightened when she promised to let them know where she and Carson settled. Dalen was so angry he ripped the answering machine from the table and threw it to the floor.
He stormed from the house and back to his car. His next stop was Carson's. He didn't bother to knock, figuring they had already left. After kicking in the door, he searched through the small apartment meticulously, destroying as many things as possible. Finally, he settled on the bed and looked at the phone. No answering machine, but there was a black bound address book laying beside it.
It had been folded over, so the pages rested against the nightstand. Dalen carefully flipped it over and read the entries under “W.” There were six. Chris and Rita Winslow jumped out at him. He ripped the page from the book and picked up the phone, hitting redial.
The phone burbled out a long-distance number that rang three times before someone answered. “Hello,” a harried woman said.
“Hello, is this Mrs. Winslow?” he asked pleasantly.
“Yes, who's this?” she asked as a baby cried in the background.
“I'm with the Chicago Tribune,” Dalen rattled out smoothly. “I was calling to see if you would like to sign up for a subscription?”
“Listen,” she said impatiently. “We already get the paper. I don't have time for this right now.”
“I'm sorry to bother you, ma'am,” he said smoothly. “You're on our list of potential customers. Can I verify your address so I can see if you're in the computer? Are you still at 7575 Willowgreen Drive?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Is that all?”
“Yes, Mrs. Winslow,” he said. “Thank you.” Dalen hung up and pocketed the address in case he didn't find them before they reached Chicago. His next step was planning a route. He saw a computer on a small computer desk and switched it on. It was hooked to the Internet, and he did a search for routes.
He wondered if Carson hadn't done the very same thing. Dalen clicked on history and sure enough, there was a website called planyourtrip.com. He went to the sight and put in Chicago from L.A. by car. A route was drawn for him in a purple line across a map of the U.S. He chose the print option, and three pages spewed from the printer.
The last thing Dalen did before leaving the apartment was pour kitchen cleaner on the carpet. Then, using a lighter he found in a drawer, he lit the carpet on fire. Dalen whistled a happy tune as he jogged down the stairs. He'd just gotten in his car and fastened the seat belt when he heard an explosion, likely from the flame reaching the gas stove. Fire whooshed out of the windows, and he smiled in satisfaction before starting the long drive.
Dalen drove like a man possessed. He never stopped to eat and only rarely stopped for bathrooms or gas. He always asked if anyone had seen Rory and Carson. In two or three small towns the answer was yes. The first time he heard a confirmation he was two hours behind them. At the last town he stopped at in Idaho, a gas station attendant had filled the tank of a black Mustang just twenty minutes before.
When Dalen got back on the highway, he increased his speed to one hundred. Rory was close—he could feel it. So was Carson, but he wouldn't be a problem for much longer. Dalen patted the gun in the pocket of his letterman's jacket. It was the only thing he'd grabbed from his house before setting out to find Rory.
***
“I'm getting sleepy,” Rory told Carson. She'd driven for a few hours, and they'd just traded again at their last stop. “When we get to Boise, let's stop for a hotel.” By the map they were about an hour away. It was already eleven o'clock and she was dragging.
“Okay,” Carson agreed as some asshole came up behind him. “I hate drivers like that,” he commented as the guy tailgated him and flashed his lights. He had them on brights when they weren't flashing. “I'd better let him pass,” Carson said and slowed down.
Instead of passing the car came closer and bumped their tail. Carson and Rory were thrown forward before their seat belts tightened. “What the hell?” Carson asked, speeding up. “What's this guy’s problem?”
Rory craned her neck around and looked through the back glass. The car looked very familiar. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “It's Dalen.”
“It can't be,” Carson protested as the other car zoomed around them. “See, he's passing—” His sentence was interrupted when the other car smashed into the side of the Mustang. Carson looked away from the road and saw Dalen grinning like mad. He bashed the Porsche into the Mustang again, and they scraped the guardrail.
Dalen sped up to pass them, and Carson knew he couldn't let that happen. They had to get ahead of Dalen. He pressed his foot on to the accelerator until it hit the floorboard and the car shot forward, fishtailing at the unexpected speed. Carson was doing ninety, and the car seemed okay. Unfortunately, Dalen was driving a Porsche, and he had no trouble overtaking the Mustang. Carson couldn't get any more speed from it, and he watched Dalen pull a hundred yards ahead then stop the car across both lanes.
Carson hit the brakes and tried to flip a U-turn, but Dalen's car was too close. He got partially turned, and the Mustang's rear passenger side slammed into the front passenger side of the Porsche with a sickening screech of metal against metal. The Mustang shuddered to a halt, and Carson smacked his head on the steering wheel when his seat belt popped open.
Rory unfastened her seat belt and frantically shook Carson. She leaned his head back, and blood streamed from his forehead. She hoped he wasn't dying, but it looked like an awful lot of blood. She remembered hearing somewhere that even minor head wounds always bled profusely, but she was still scared.
She looked up and saw Dalen striding toward them. Frantically, she tried to rouse Carson, but he was out cold. The engine was still running, but she didn't know if the car would go. She was trying to move Carson enough to reach the steering wheel when Dalen got to the car.
Rory hit the lock button just as he reached for the handle. She struggled to get her foot past Carson's leg to reach the gas pedal. Undaunted, Dalen pulled the gun from his pocket and shot out the back window. He reached inside to unlock Rory's door, and she latched onto his arm with her teeth.
Rory ground her teeth into his flesh as he screamed. Dalen tucked the gun back in his pocket and stuck his other arm in the back window. Rory tried to grab his hand, but he fastened it in her hair. Dalen slammed the side of her head against the window, and she let go of her hold on his arm.
He fumbled the lock up and wrenched open the door. Rory was dazed from the blow to the head and blinked at him foggily. He pulled her from the Mustang and dragged her to the Porsche, where he tossed her inside, none too gently. Dalen started the engine and reversed a little until he could go straight. They would have to follow the interstate to the next exit, where they could spin around and head home.
Dalen shot her a cold look. “I'm getting fed up, Rory,” he snarled. “You can't keep playing these games.”
“It's no game,” she screamed in the confines of the car. “I want to escape from you. I'd rather be dead than spend the rest of my life with you or running from you.”
His eyes gleamed coldly. “Careful what you wish for,” he cautioned. “I would rather see you dead than let you live without me.”
Rory subsided into silence, trying to focus on the road. She was seeing double and knew it must be from the head injury. Wake up, Carson, she pleaded silently.
***
Carson slowly fought his way through the darkness in his head and his eyes opened. The sides of his vision were cloudy, but he could see a little. He remembered hitting his head on the steering wheel after the impact with Dalen's car. “Dalen!” he gasped and looked around. Rory wasn't in the car.
The engine was running, and he pulled forward slowly, trying to see the road ahead. He drove over the debris from the crash and gradually speeded up. He was doing ninety in no time, but he couldn't see much ahead of him. All he knew was he had to get to Rory.
***
Dalen was speeding along, passing every car in sight. As they passed one, Rory saw it was a police car. She frantically pounded on her window and waved her arms. The officer had probably already planned to pull Dalen over for speeding but lifted his radio receiver to his mouth when he saw Rory. Unfortunately for him, Dalen had pulled out the pistol and lined up a shot. The bullet tore into the officer before he'd even picked up the radio. He lost control of the car and went careening off the road.
Rory cried out as she watched the officer get shot. It had been impossible to tell if he was dead, but even if he wasn't, Dalen had shot him without even thinking about it. “You shot an officer,” she yelled hysterically. “You're crazy.”
“Nothing will come between us,” he promised in an even tone. “Nothing and no one.”
Rory squeezed her eyes shut and scooted away from him. Dalen continued to speed forward.
***
Carson saw the Porsche come in sight and dropped back a little. He had no idea what to do. Another car crash was too risky for all of them. He wanted to get Rory away from Dalen without anyone dying, if possible. Although he was beginning to wonder if Dalen would relentlessly pursue Rory until one of their deaths?
He followed Dalen as far back as he dared but apparently, it was still too close. Dalen slammed on the brakes and parked in the middle of the road. Carson hit the brakes on the Mustang but couldn't hope to slow it down in time. He hit the Porsche with enough force to slide it forward several feet. The Mustang immediately coughed and died. The hood was crumpled in and the floorboard suddenly felt pinched.
***
Rory screamed when Dalen hit the brakes, and the car rammed them. She whipped her head around and saw the Mustang, horribly mangled. It would be a miracle if Carson had lived through that. Dalen threw off his belt and climbed out of the Porsche, drawing the gun. Rory opened her door and raced out, still feeling dizzy. She reeled for a moment before her balance steadied.
***
Carson watched as Dalen came towards him with a gun extended. He pushed at the door but it refused to open. Since the seat belt had broken at the last impact he wasn't tethered to the seat, and he slid across to the passenger side, gashing his thigh on a hunk of metal protruding into the cab. His broken ribs protested as he scrambled out of the car, and he cried out when he put too much weight on his injured knee.
He stood there as Dalen approached him, unsure what to do. He saw Rory coming up fast behind Dalen and he yelled to her. “Run, Rory. Go now.” Rory stumbled and looked behind her, indecisive. “I love you,” he said as loud as he could when Rory turned and ran the other direction. He heard her scream, “I love you,” as she ran into the night and he stood there, waiting for Dalen. “She's going to get away,” he told Dalen confidently. “You can kill me, but you can't keep her. It's not meant to be.”
***
Furiously, Dalen cocked the gun and aimed at Carson. “Shut up,” he brayed hysterically. “You're wrong. She'll come back to me.” Dalen pulled the trigger but nothing happened. He pulled it again, but there was no bullet. There was only the sound of an empty chamber. How many bullets had he put in the gun? He couldn't remember, but he knew he hadn't reloaded since the altercation with Carson last Friday. Dalen cracked open the chamber and laughed bitterly when he saw it was empty.
Carson was laughing and crying at the same time. “It's not meant to be,” he repeated. Dalen glared at him and threw the gun at his head. Carson managed to duck, but his knee gave out and he fell to the pavement. The gash on his other leg was spurting a lot of blood. He must have hit an artery. That would explain the weakness. Dalen ran off into the night after Rory, not bothering with the Porsche, and Carson heard the sweetest sound imaginable—police sirens.
***
Rory ran down the interstate as fast as she could. A stitch developed in her side and her back spasmed painfully. Her vision was growing blurrier and she felt like vomiting but still she ran. It occurred to her she was either going to get run over running down the highway, or Dalen would have no trouble finding her. She clamored over the guardrail and fell before she could regain her feet. She rolled down a small embankment and hit the ground with a grunt. She felt her leg snap and knew she'd broken it. As of yet, Rory couldn't feel any pain but she figured that was because she was in shock.
She prayed Dalen would keep driving down the highway and never think to look over the sides, but a few minutes after her fall she heard someone scrabbling down the embankment. Rory crawled forward a few feet by using her arms and her one good leg, but he was upon her all too soon. Her one hope was the sirens she could hear speeding their way.
Dalen stood above Rory, looking down at her as she lay on the ground. It was dark, and he couldn't see much but he knew she was injured. He crouched down beside her, caressing her face. “Why don't you love me?” he asked painfully.
Rory had not expected that. She'd thought he'd berate her for running or brag about killing Carson, but his question took her by surprise. “You never gave me the chance,” she said honestly. “You took over my life, Dalen. You stole my innocence, and then forced me to subject myself to your “love” to protect those I love. How could I have loved you? Even if I didn't love Carson, I couldn't have loved you!”
“It will be different this time,” he promised. “You'll have all the choices you want, and I know you'll fall in love with me. We'll go home and put this behind us.”
“You're unbelievable,” she shouted. “I don't want to be with you. You still aren't hearing me. I don't love you! I love Carson.” Rory took a deep breath. “I won't ever be your girlfriend, Dalen. Please accept my decision.”
His face twisted hatefully. “There’s no reason to love Carson,” he snapped. “I left him bleeding to death on the highway.” Dalen looked over his shoulder as several police cars screeched to a halt on the highway above them. “You will love me, Rory,” he vowed as several officers descended the embankment. “I'll never give up on you.”