A sudden pounding on the door, so hard and so loud it rattled the windows, made Bailey jump.
“Bailey! Bailey, please. Help us!”
The muffled cry was Cara’s. Even through the door, the terror in her voice was obvious.
Bailey dropped the photograph and sprang for the door. She fumbled with the locks for a moment. Cara and Casey fell inside almost before Bailey could get the door fully open. Both of them were pale and crying.
“Lock it!” Cara insisted, shoving the door closed. “He’s out there. We have to call someone.”
Bailey had already turned the lock. “Who’s out there?” she demanded. “What’s going on?”
Cara put her arms around her whimpering, trembling daughter and huddled over her. “His name is Rance Owens. I testified against him two years ago. He went to prison, but he escaped. He’s been looking for me ever since. I don’t know how he found me this time, but—oh, Bailey, we have to get help. He’s insane. He won’t stop until—”
“I’ll call the police,” Bailey said, snatching up the telephone and listening to the dial tone. “You and Casey sit on the couch. You’ll be safe in here.” She hoped.
She watched as Cara led Casey to the couch, passing within inches of the man who stood there looking at Bailey with concern. It was quite obvious that they weren’t aware of his presence.
“Summon the police,” he urged. “If he’s determined enough, your locks won’t keep him out.”
Bailey nodded and dialed 911. She waited with held breath for a ring at the other end of the line. She heard only silence.
Praying she’d done something wrong, she pressed the disconnect button, then waited impatiently for another dial tone.
There wasn’t one.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, trying again for a tone. “Oh, no.”
“What’s wrong?” Ian demanded.
She looked at him helplessly. “I think he’s cut the line. I can’t get through to anyone.”
“Damn.”
Cara gasped. “You can’t get through?”
Bailey turned toward the couch. “No. The phone isn’t working.”
Casey sobbed and hid her face in her mother’s chest.
Bailey made a sudden decision. “I’ll run for help,” she said. “You lock the doors behind me and then lock yourselves into the bathroom. There’s no window in there.”
“No!”
“No, Bailey. You don’t know him like I do. He’s crazy. He’ll do anything to get to me.”
Ian and Cara had spoken at the same time. Bailey focused on Cara as she argued. “He isn’t after me,” she said. “We can’t just stay out here waiting for him to make a move. I have to get help. It’s only a few yards to the inn. If the phones are out there, I’ll get the staff, the guests, anyone I can find to help us.”
“Bailey, no,” Ian protested. “If he’s as dangerous as she says, he won’t hesitate to hurt you. I—I can’t protect you,” he added, obviously hating the admission of impotence.
She looked at him, then, not caring that Cara might find it strange. “I have to do something.”
“And if he has a gun?” Ian’s expression was tortured now. “I couldn’t bear it if you died out there in the darkness, Bailey. The way—”
The way Anna and I did. The words hung unspoken in the air between them.
She swallowed hard. “I—”
Her words were drowned out by the crash of an explosive kick against the front door. Metal grated. Wood groaned. A second kick shattered the doorjamb.