The Cheater (12 page)

He avoided her eyes. “I couldn't, Carter. I'm sorry.”

Carter couldn't believe it. He's suspicious of me too, she thought. He's nervous around me, just like everybody else!

Dan was her last hope, and she grabbed him by the arm. “Please,” she uttered in an urgent whisper, “not you too!”

She tugged at his arm, trying to get him to look her in the eye.

But he lowered his gaze to the floor. “I don't know what to say, Carter.”

How can this be happening? Carter thought.

Dan is against me too.

C
arter made it through the rest of the day. She had no idea how. When she walked away from Dan, she just shut herself off. Turned her thoughts inward, away from everyone else. She avoided their eyes, didn't listen to their gossip.

She moved through the day like a zombie.

After a couple of days the kids at school stopped staring at her so much. No one talked to her, but at least they sat next to her in class now.

At home she jumped every time the phone rang, thinking it would be another threat. But the calls were never for her. Jill didn't call, and Dan didn't call. Sheila didn't call, either.

Maybe everything will be okay now, Carter thought. Slowly, my life will get back to normal. The kids will forget about Adam. Dan will relax and come back to me.

Maybe, Carter thought, the worst is over.

*  *  *

Then one evening Mrs. Phillips dragged the judge out to a charity benefit. Dressed in a sequined, silver evening gown, she came downstairs to the living room, where Carter was watching TV. Diamond earrings dangled almost onto her shoulders.

“Will you be all right tonight, Carter?” Mrs. Phillips asked her daughter.

Carter didn't take her eyes from the television set. “I'll be fine.”

Mrs. Phillips sighed and cast a glance up the staircase. “What is taking your father so long?” she murmured. Then she shouted up the stairs. “John! We're going to be late!”

A few minutes later Judge Phillips appeared, adjusting the bow tie to his tuxedo.

“Why do we always have to be the first to arrive at these functions?” he grumbled.

“We have no choice, dear,” his wife replied. “I'm the chairperson. I've got to be there first to greet all the guests.”

“Next time you can go without me,” said the judge.

“Oh, John …”

The judge paused in the doorway of the living room to say goodbye to Carter.

“We won't be late,” he told her. “No matter what your mother says, I'll make sure we're back at a decent hour. I've got a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

“Okay, Daddy,” said Carter.

“Are you going to be all right here, all alone?” he asked.

“I already asked her that, dear,” said Mrs. Phillips. “She says she'll be fine. Now let's go.”

“Maybe you could ask Jill to come over and keep you company for a while,” the judge suggested. “And remember, don't open the door to anyone.”

Carter said nothing. She couldn't ask Jill, or Dan, or anyone else to come over and keep her company. They wouldn't do it.

“She can take care of herself, John,” said Carter's mother. “Good night, dear. Don't stay up too late.”

“'Bye,” said Carter.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the door finally closed behind them. Lately, she felt completely comfortable only when she was alone.

She microwaved a frozen pizza and sat in front of the TV to eat it. She had never watched as much TV as she had the last few days. There was nothing else to do.

After a couple hours Carter started to feel bored and sleepy. But it was only a little after nine. Too early to go to bed. She settled into the couch and clicked the remote control to see if she could find something better to watch.

Suddenly the television went off, and the lights flickered out.

“Hey—what's going on?” Carter wondered out loud.

She was sitting in complete darkness.

Carter sat up, alert. She thought she heard a noise.

Bump.

What was that?

Her heart jumped.

She listened again.

Another
bump,
followed by a scraping sound.

Someone was walking around in the house!

In the basement.

Call for help, she thought, panic rising in her throat.

She got off the couch and made her way into the kitchen.

Her hand hit the phone and knocked it off the hook.

She grabbed the wire and pulled the receiver up from the floor. Then she raised it to her ear.

The line was dead.

Frantically, she pushed the buttons.

Silence.

Dead.

She dropped the receiver when she heard a creak on the basement stairs. A footstep. Another. Coming up the stairs.

Terrified, Carter backed into the hall leading back to the living room. The footsteps slowly continued up the stairs.

Carter bumped into a small table. It fell over with a clatter. With a cry of panic, she kicked it aside and kept backing up.

The basement door opened.

“Who's there?” Carter whispered.

Now she heard someone walking toward her. Down the hall. Closer. Closer.

“Who's there?” she called out in a trembly voice she didn't recognize.

No answer. Just footsteps moving in on her, closer, closer.

Carter's back hit a wall. She stopped, pressing against the wall as if she could break through it.

The footsteps moved closer.

Now someone spoke.

“Careful—or you'll break Daddy's heart.”

A
dam?

No! No way. Adam was dead. But who else could it be?

“Adam?” she called.

No response. Another footstep. Another.

She struggled to see through the darkness of the windowless hall.

Adam? No. No. It couldn't be. Was it Sheila? Carter slid along the wall until she came to the door to the study. She backed inside.

The footsteps moved closer. The intruder was at the study door. She could make out a ski mask.

I'm trapped, Carter thought, trembling. I'm trapped. I'm—dead!

Her knees started to buckle as she backed up against her father's desk.

Then she remembered. The gun.

She stumbled around the desk as the footsteps moved into the room.

The intruder was almost upon her.

She felt for the top drawer and yanked it open.

With trembling hands she felt around for the gun. Where was it?

It was gone.

T
he intruder leaped at her.

Carter fell back, and the stalker lurched forward with a low grunt and pinned her against the wall.

She tried to scream, but he grabbed her by the throat, clamping his other hand over her mouth.

Carter knew this wasn't Sheila. He was too big, too strong.

It was a man.

A man with huge hands.

As she frantically struggled to free herself, he gripped her neck with both hands and squeezed her throat.

Carter gasped. All that came out was a squeak. I—I can't breathe, she realized.

She choked.

“You were a lucky girl,” the man said in a low voice. “I tried to run you off the road, but you slipped away. Not this time. This time the message will get through….”

He gripped her throat even harder.

Her lungs ached for air.

Stars began to dance before her eyes. He was choking her to death.

The stars grew brighter, brighter, until she couldn't see.

Then Carter was swallowed up by a blinding white light.

A faint wailing sound cut through the silence.

The wailing became a scream. Louder, louder.

The white gave way to flashing red lights. Sirens,

Sirens! The police!

All at once the man's grip loosened on her throat.

Wheezing loudly, Carter sucked in a breath. The blood pumped back to her brain. She screamed.

The sirens were deafening now. From right outside the house.

The man's hands slid off her throat.

She was so dizzy. So dizzy. She screamed crumpled to the floor.

She heard a loud crash. Heavy footsteps.

The intruder started to run. Carter heard someone shout, “Freeze!”

Another voice cried, “I've got him!”

Carter sat up. The dark room was spinning. A flashlight beam bounced off the wall. Then the light hit her in the face.

“Hey. Are you all right?”

Carter blinked. Someone was helping her up. She raised her eyes to a worried-looking police officer.

“Miss?” he said. “Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Carter shook her head uncertainly. She opened her mouth to speak. Her throat hurt.

“I'm okay,” she choked out.

“Can you walk?”

She nodded. She stared blankly into his worried face.

The officer supported her. He walked her into the hallway.

She stood before a knot of police officers. They had surrounded the intruder. He stood with his hands cuffed behind his back. He still wore the ski mask over his head.

Carter watched as one officer pulled the mask off.

Hesitantly, Carter stepped forward. The officer trained his flashlight on the man's face.

Carter gaped in shock.

T
he man was sandy haired, heavyset, about forty-five years old. He had a craggy, ruddy face and thick, dark eyebrows. He scowled at her bitterly.

“Do you know this man, Miss Phillips?” asked the police officer.

Carter shook her head. “I've never seen him before,” she said. “Who is he? I—I don't understand.”

He knew her. She remembered what he had said. “Careful—or you'll break Daddy's heart.”

Why had he said that? Had
he
been the one who put the bloody heart in her tennis bag?

He had also said that he tried to run her off the road. Then it hadn't been Adam, after all. Or even Sheila.

No. It must have been this man. This … stranger.