.

put.”

      Melissa froze in place, her pulse roaring in her ears. Her legs trembled wildly as she tried to remain completely still, aware that no amount of logic or reason was going to get through to a man so steeped in drugs and rage. But if she could keep him from killing her in the next few minutes, she might get the opportunity to wield the small vial of pepper spray tucked in the pocket of her jacket.

      She was shaking so hard that it took a couple of seconds to realize the vibration she felt against her hip was coming from her cell phone. Her fingers itched to reach into her pocket and answer the call, but she didn’t dare make a move while Terry was watching.

      But a moment later, Terry turned his head to check on Dinah’s location, perhaps afraid that she might make a move against him while his back was turned, though she sat in a crumpled, defeated heap in front of the sink, crying softly, her eyes averted. His inattention gave Melissa the chance she needed.

      She slipped her hand into her pocket and pushed the call button on her phone, returning the call to whomever had just tried to ring her, then wrapped her fist around the pepper spray canister, flipping open the safety top.

      Terry wheeled back around to her, squeezing her throat. For a second, black spots swam in front of her eyes and a dull roar deafened her to all but the sound of her rushing blood. Finally his grip loosened, and sound and sight returned with dizzying clarity, along with a raw ache in her bruised throat.

      “You don’t have a man to teach you how things are supposed to be, do you? You don’t have no respect for what’s on us. Gotta make money to keep the house and feed the whining, ungrateful brats and a worthless, shiftless woman who treats you like a workhorse. Can’t even get a decent supper on the table on time.” He whipped around and looked at his wife, uttering a cruel epithet that made Melissa flinch, even though she’d heard it many times before from any number of angry, violent men.

      His grip loosened more, giving Melissa the opening she needed. She pulled the pepper spray from her pocket and held it out in front of her, ready when Terry Harris turned back around to face her again. His eyes widened as he spotted the canister, giving him no defense when she pressed the trigger and squirted a burning stream into his face.

      AARON gripped the steering wheel tightly, horror flooding him in cold greasy waves. Over the cell phone headset, instead of Melissa’s voice, he heard a muffled male voice spew pure venom, vicious and cruel. Suddenly, the voice cut off with a bark of pain, and Aaron had to jerk the steering wheel quickly to keep his truck from plunging down an embankment to his right.

      He listened with growing panic, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. The bark of pain turned into howls of agony, punctuated by the sound of footsteps, still oddly muted. Was the phone in Melissa’s pocket?

      Why hadn’t she said anything yet?

      Finally, Melissa’s voice broke through the chaos. “Where are the kids?” The urgency in her raspy voice made his gut ache. Where was she? What was going on? Was she hurt? What kids?

      “Go,” another woman’s voice answered, raw with tears. “I ain’t leavin’.”

      So Riley had been right. She was with one of the abuse victims she worked with. He tried to remember what Hannah had told him about the phone call Melissa had received. His sister had said Melissa seemed worried but not panicky.

      Had she walked into a siege, unaware?

      The howls of pain continued in the background, behind the women’s low murmurs. Just before the first cry, he’d heard a sort of hissing sound. Pepper spray?

      Pepper spray might slow the assailant down, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop him once the first wave of burning settled down. Melissa had to get out of there, and soon.

      “If you stay here, he’ll kill you.” Melissa’s voice rose with urgency. “Where are the kids, Dinah?”

      “Just get out of here,” Dinah answered. Aaron heard a tone in her voice he’d heard before, too many times. Hopelessness.

      Get out, Melissa, he silently urged. You can’t save her.

      He heard a crashing sound over the phone, and his nerves jumped wildly. He almost sagged with relief when he heard Melissa speak again. “Are the kids in the house?”

      “Just go!” Dinah’s voice rose hysterically. There was a soft thud and he thought he heard a small gasp from Melissa, but he couldn’t be sure. The sound of the yelling man hadn’t seemed to get any closer.

      Suddenly that noise faded, replaced by the faint sound of running footsteps. A few seconds later, the footsteps changed, grew hollow. A rustling sound, loud enough to make him wince, was followed quickly by Melissa’s breathless voice, loud and direct into the phone. “Call 911. Domestic assault in progress at 223 Old Borland Road in Gossamer Ridge.”

      “Are you out of there? Get out of there!” he responded, his heart hammering against his chest wall. “Melissa?”

      “Aaron?” Her voice cracked. He heard the sound of a door opening, then slamming shut. A soft “snick” of doors locking. “I’m in my car. Doors locked.”

      Her previous words sliced through the haze of relief. Old Borland Road was about three minutes away. He gunned the truck engine. “Are you okay? What happened?”

      “I’m okay. Just get here. I’ll be waiting at the highway turnoff. And you’re going to need backup.”

      “Let me call it in.” He grabbed the radio. “I need two cruisers. And get Riley Patterson out here.”

      Melissa’s voice rang in his ear. “Have them stop at the turnoff.”

      He added that direction to his call to dispatch. “What else do we need to know?” he asked Melissa.

      She told him about her visit to her client in short, hoarse sentences. He could tell from her breathlessness and the shaky sound of her voice that she was suffering from mild shock.

      “Did he hit you?” Aaron asked, his voice strangled.

      “No. He—he manhandled me a little, but I’m okay.”

      “I’ll get paramedics to look you over—”

      “No, I’m fine,” she insisted, coughing a little as her voice rose. “I’m a lot more worried about Dinah and the kids.”

      “How many kids?”

      “Two boys, five and seven. I didn’t see them.”

      “Is Harris ever abusive to them?”

      “Not so far. It’s all been directed at Dinah. But they should have been there. Dinah doesn’t like to leave them with other people. She’s afraid Terry will try to grab them.”

      Her fear was contagious. Aaron’s head filled with images that made him want to pull over to the side of the road and throw up his lunch. “Did you see any signs of a struggle? Any blood? Did you smell—”

      “God!”

      “I’m sorry, but we need to know what we’re heading into. Did you see anything to suggest the kids might be there?”

      The sound of her Volkswagen’s engine died, and there was almost perfect silence on the other end of the line. “Melissa?”

      “I didn’t see anything,” she said in a low voice. “I didn’t hear…anything.”

      Like kids playing in a back room, Aaron thought. Hard to play when—

      “She sounded so defeated,” Melissa said. “Like she’d given up. She didn’t even respond to my question about the kids.”

      He pushed the dark images out of his head. One thing at a time. “Let’s just get Harris out of that house, and then we’ll deal with finding the kids.” As he heard sirens in the distance, he saw the turnoff to Old Borland Road looming down the highway. “I’m almost there, Melissa.