Sanctuary

Rachel trembled and held her hand to her mouth. Phillip's rage terrified her. Like a wild beast he hurled himself at the door. He screamed at her again, and she cringed as the door creaked on its hinges. He could crash into the room any moment now.

"Rachel, I'm no fool. I know you're in there. Open the door."

Rachel backed away and ran to the bedroom. She yanked open drawers, spilling their contents. What’s the use? He knows I'm here. She stuffed socks and underwear into a canvas bag until they caught in the zipper. In panic she tossed the bag aside.

A thought made her body go limp. Her mother sided with Phillip in this dispute, and he would weasel the new address from her. Lenore ranted for two hours when Rachel broke the engagement. She agreed to forward the rest of Rachel's clothes, but even then Rachel wondered if she would keep her word.

Suddenly Rachel's chest heaved, and she gasped for air. Another panic attack threatened to stifle her escape. Just then Phillip threw his bulk again at the door. For a moment she froze. Afraid now for her life, she sprang back into action. As she swept cosmetics into her handbag, a new revelation made her pause. Her mother must have told Philip he could find her here. After all, she had abandoned this apartment weeks ago, right after the break-in. Her lip quivered. Get a hold of yourself. This is no time to fall apart.

That door would take little more. If he forced his way in he could kill her. "Yes, he's capable of it," she thought. Why hadn't she seen it before?

In an urge to survive she teetered on the commode. Her hands scrabbled for the window. Suddenly one foot slipped, and she moaned when she saw the screws. After the burglary she had screwed the window shut.

Another outburst from Phillip gave her an odd sense of pity. She scooted from her perch and ran to the kitchen to shuffle through drawers for a screwdriver.

Rachel held her breath as she struggled to release the window. What if Phillip gave up at the front door and found her car in the back alley? At that instant quiet descended upon the front porch.

In a moment Phillip tapped on the door. "Rachel, this is crazy. We're acting like a couple of kids." When she didn't answer, he rattled the doorknob. "Listen, let me in. We need to talk." At last the screws fell into the palm of her hand. Sweat seeped from her armpits as she slid the bag out the window. Her body contorted to sidle over the ledge. One foot touched the ground and twisted under her weight. She almost screamed. "Easy," she told herself. "Just get out of here."

The Toyota sputtered. Don’t let that weak battery give out now! She grasped the wheel and drove from the alley through a maze of side streets. A quick look at the rearview mirror reassured her. No sign of Phillip. Praise God!

Traffic crawled as usual on the freeways. Finally she reached the foothills and began the climb to Idyllhaven. Repeatedly she glanced at the mirror for signs of Phillip's Buick behind her. She wondered if she could feel free ever again.

Her thoughts drifted back to her first date with Phillip. Articulate and absurdly handsome, he wowed her mother from the moment she saw him.

Rachel remembered her own reservations. In his dark suit he looked too perfect, too good to be true. At dinner his heady conversation made her uneasy. In a grandiose effort to impress her, he bragged of his position in his father’s law firm. She remembered feeling ill at ease, as though she must mind her manners.

For the hundredth time she asked herself why she continued to see him. Now she felt shame at her weakness. His realm of wealth and power drew her like a siren. Only later did she see his cruelty and lack of character.

She shivered and reached for her cell phone. Now she had come halfway up the mountain, and the phone responded with static. She frowned. She would have to find a public telephone, if such a thing still existed. Pine trees lined the highway on either side, and the prospect of finding one looked slim. She almost missed the abandoned eatery tucked among the shadows of a grove on her right. Dry needles covered the roof of the booth in front. With luck the telephone still worked.

To her surprise a masculine voice answered. "Vince Cavalieri."

Rachel stammered. "Excuse me. I'm trying to reach Samantha Jolie."

"I don't know where she is just now. Care to leave a message?"

"Yes, thanks. This is Rachel Fontaine. Please tell her I'm arriving today as planned."

A pause followed. "Really? Okay, I'll let her know."

Confusion gripped Rachel as she set the telephone back in place. She stuck her hands in her pocket and strolled to the edge of a precipice to look at the view. It felt good to stretch her legs. Wisps of clouds floated before her as she looked into the abyss below. She kept hearing the man's voice. It sounded oddly familiar and yet far away.

********************************

Though he had made this climb numerous times, Vince panted from the effort. The rigor of the hike tore at his lungs. Just ahead Louie turned and grinned, his pale lips tight over his teeth.

"Hey, Vince, what's the matter? Out of shape?"

In the old days he would have laughed at Louie's ribbing. Now Vince ignored the remark.

A gust of cold wind swept across the mountain. Today the thin air smothered Vince. He stared at Louie's back. Just the sight of him sapped his strength.