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door.
    There was a crash downstairs.
    “You fucking whore!” Vince screamed from
the bottom of the stairs then, as something else could be heard shattering
against a wall. Dammit, he was breaking her vases, she thought miserably. She
had paid a lot of money for those damned things. Her insurance company was
going to scream.
    “Shit. Janey, tell them to put some lead on
the gas,” she breathed out harshly. “He’s drunk and he’s pissed. How the hell
did he get past my alarm?”
    She moved quickly to the bedroom door,
locking it before pushing the large, wing-backed chair over to it, and tilting
it until the back was forced beneath the brass knob. It was the only security
she could think of. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she was buying a gun.
    “They’ll be there fast, Marey, just stay
calm,” Janey assured her quietly. “I want you to stay back from the door. Hide
in the bathroom and lock the door there. Get as far away from him as you can
until help arrives.”
    She could hear her voice fade as Janey
turned to the radio and called in to report to whoever was headed to the house.
    She stood indecisively in the middle of the
bedroom, staring around it in regret. She couldn’t stay here. Vince was
evidently insane. First the attack at the motel and now this. She couldn’t, she
wouldn’t live this way.
    “I’ll kill you this time, you fucking
bitch.” He was at the door, his fists hammering on the door as Marey began to
tremble nervously. “What makes you think you can whore around on me? I’ll kill
you for even thinking of letting another man touch you. You fucking slut.
You’re a dead woman!”
    Enraged, almost incoherent, his curses
slammed into her, making her stomach knot in fear as she bit her lip to hold
back the cry of rage that built in her throat. They had been divorced for
years, and she had been careful. Very careful to make certain he had no reason
to torment her as he had that first year after their split.
    His fists hammered into the door again,
shaking the panel. He was a brute of a man. The door was heavy but she had no
doubt he would get through it.
    “Janey, this is getting serious,” she
breathed out, her voice shaking as she moved to the bathroom and locked the
door there as well. There were no chairs to place against the door, nothing to
hold him back. “These doors won’t keep him out.”
    “Two minutes, Marey,” Janey promised her
calmly. “You can hold on two minutes. Get a can of hairspray, anything harsh.
If he makes it past the doorway, spray his eyes full. Do whatever you have to.
Sheriff Richards and Deputy Carlson are almost there. You’ll hear the sirens
soon and so will he. Maybe it will run him off.”
    She was right. Seconds later the sound of
sirens wailing in the distance could be heard. Relief poured through her as tears
filled her eyes. Her nerves clashed as she felt the jolt of Vince throwing
himself against the door.
    “The gates are locked,” Marey told Janey,
moving along the wall as she heard him crash into the door again. “The code is
six, four, eight, three, two, nine. That’s going to delay them.”
    Janey relayed the code to the sheriff
before coming back.
    “You hear them now?” The sirens were
growing louder.
    “You fucking whore. You slut,” Vince
screamed then. “I’ll get you, bitch. When I do, I’ll kill you. That damned
sheriff won’t save you every time.”
    The sound of running feet down the stairs
assured her he was leaving. Breathing a sigh of relief, she collapsed against
the wall, a tired, nervous little laugh escaping her throat as tears tightened
her chest.
    “He’s gone,” she whispered then. “Janey,
he’s going to fucking kill me. What the hell am I going to do?”
     
    The house was a mess.
    Evidently Vince had found quite a few ways
to amuse himself before she woke up. Curses had been spelled out in lurid
detail in black and red permanent marker across the walls. Her living room
furniture was slashed, vases and