Secrets to the Grave

80

“Dennis. What are you doing here?” Anne asked.

How the hell had he gotten her address? Their phone number was unlisted. She had a P.O. box for an address on her business cards.

“How did you find me?” she asked.

“I asked your dad.”

“You went to my father’s house.”

Dennis nodded. “Uh-huh. He’s really old.”

“And he gave you my address?”

“Uh-huh.”

Oh my God. That man will be the death of me yet.

Anne’s gaze skated past Dennis to the sheriff’s radio car sitting parked at the sidewalk. The deputy was eating a sandwich, paying no attention. Why would he pay attention to a little boy in a baseball cap? His assignment here was to keep Anne and Haley safe from a murderer.

“I set the hospital on fire,” Dennis announced.

“I know. I heard about that,” Anne said calmly.

“It was really cool,” he said, his eyes lighting up in that glassy, unnatural way they did when he talked about killers and crimes. “This one guy came running out of his room and his arms were on fire! And he was screaming and shit. It was so cool! And then this oxygen tank exploded and BAM!! It went right through a wall and killed a lady!”

Anne’s blood ran cold at his obvious delight—not just in his attempt to shock her but in the actual details of what he had done. The burned man and the dead woman meant absolutely nothing to him except in terms of his own amusement.

“Why did you do that, Dennis?”

He shrugged, his hands tucked into the big pouch on the front of his too-big hooded sweatshirt. “’Cause I wanted to. ’Cause I was mad. You said you were gonna come yesterday, and you didn’t. You said you would bring me something cool, and you didn’t.”

“I called to say I couldn’t make it, Dennis.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said, getting angry. “You never called. You don’t care about me. You’re such a liar!”

“Dennis—”

“Shut up!” he shouted, his temper about to erupt. “You’re just a lying, fucking cunt and I hate you!”

Before Anne could react Dennis had pulled his hands out of his pockets and came at her swinging and screaming. She wasn’t aware of what he had clenched in his fists until she felt something sharp and pointed stick her in the breast. By the time it registered he had struck her twice more.

There was nothing she could grab to hit him with. She didn’t want to run backward into the house. If Dennis saw Wendy or Haley she knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt either one of them.

She tried to grab at his arms as he swung at her, and his weapons cut her hands and forearms. She shouted at him, “Dennis! Stop it! Stop it!”

Wendy had heard the commotion and came running from the kitchen. As soon as she saw Dennis, she started screaming at the top of her lungs. And right on her heels came Haley.

“Wendy, run!” Anne shouted as Dennis struck her again. “Take Haley and run!”

Haley stood at the end of the hall, shrieking.

Oh my God, Anne thought as she tried to fend off her attacker, she’s seeing it happen all over again.

Dennis was in a frenzy. He was big for his age, and strong, and with strength of purpose he kept coming at her, shouting and swinging and pushing her backward into the house. They were now out of sight of the deputy parked at the curb.

“I fucking hate you!” Dennis yelled, bulldozing into her.

Anne’s feet tangled with his and then she was falling backward. The back of her head struck the floor so hard it bounced. Blackness rushed in from the outer edges of her vision.

Dennis Farman came down on top of her, one arm raised high, ready to plunge a blade into her chest.