One Last Step by Sarah Sutton (free e books to read TXT) 📗

was risky, but she had no other choice, so she slid the window open as quietly as possible. The window was old, and had clearly not been opened that wide in quite some time—the edges glued shut by layers of paint that flaked and peeled. She forced it open. It creaked in return and Tara jolted down again beneath the window. She waited, and after no one came, she slowly slid her body into the house, careful not to make a sound.

She stood on the tiled floor—her gun, keys, and phone feet away from her. Her heart pounded against her chest as she took her first soft step toward them. But just as her foot hit the ground, she heard something—footsteps quickly descending the stairs, hitting the bottom floor and moving into a dining room, right off of the room she now stood in.

She scanned the room quickly. There were two entranceways to the kitchen, so she quickly trod to the one opposite of where the footsteps were coming from and hid behind the doorframe. She stood in a mudroom, the smell of muddied boots floating through the air, the back door inches from her. There was a large bench underneath a rack of coats. It will conceal me, she thought, as she quickly crawled underneath it—her body now fully shielded from sight.

She heard the footsteps reach the kitchen. She was sure they were the man’s because they were heavy, hitting the ground hard upon each step. They moved swiftly until they stopped short and Tara heard something clank on the island counter. It was her gun, she was sure of it. She had picked it up and placed it down so many times before that she could almost identify her gun by the way it touched a surface, by the weight of it. She could hear it sliding toward him, and then the room fell silent.

She listened uneasily, unsure of what he was doing, until the footsteps picked up again, moving briskly. The sound grew closer, moving toward the room she now hid in.

Tara’s heart pounded against her chest as she checked her feet, pulling them fully under the bench, double-checking that she was fully out of vision. He had a gun now, and while the bench provided some concealment, she knew all he would have to do to see her would be to step in front of it. Each end of the bench was fully covered, but the length of it was fully exposed. It was pushed up against the wall between the two rooms, so Tara pressed as close as possible to that wall as the footsteps entered the room.

Tara braced herself. All it would take would be for him to see her and she would have nowhere to go. She would have nothing to defend herself. She would be an easy target. She would have to act quickly if he was moving too close, because once he noticed her, it would be too late.

I’ll kick his legs out, she told herself. It was her only possible defense to knock him off his feet, and she would have to do it as soon as she had a chance. Maybe then she could get her gun back.

But as Tara prepared herself for what was next to come, the footsteps did not move closer. Instead, she heard the jostle of the door handle to the back door, then it swiftly open, and the footsteps continuing through the threshold before the door quickly slammed shut behind them.

A temporary moment of relief washed over her. But the moment was fleeting as the sudden realization of what it all meant pushed its way forward in Tara’s mind.

“Shit,” she said under her breath.

He had a gun, he had gone outside with purpose. It could only mean one thing—that he was headed to the barn.

Tara jumped to her feet. She had to do something and she had very little time. She watched from the window as he crept across the lawn. He held her gun. It was just a dark object clenched in his hand, but as she turned her eyes toward the kitchen, she could see it was nowhere to be found. All that was left were her keys and her phone.

Tara needed to act now, before he even reached the barn. I need to distract him, she said to herself as she frantically surveyed the kitchen. She assumed he wouldn’t shoot them right away. He wanted Tara because he knew keeping her alive was risky and the moment he realized she was gone, she assumed he would search for her. But she couldn’t take any chances.

All of a sudden, an idea sparked in her mind. All she needed were her keys. She didn’t have time to call anyone. She didn’t have time to wait for help, but she could start the car with her automatic start. It would cause him to stop in his tracks, to check the car, and then head back to the house because Tara was sure he knew where he left the keys last.

 She treaded carefully across the kitchen floor. She could hear the television blaring in another room, reminding Tara that the woman lurked not too far from where she stood. Tara reached the island and grabbed hold of her keys, but she waited to press the automatic start as she scanned the room once more. She needed a weapon. She needed something to defend herself once he veered off course, once he headed back to where Tara was.

A knife block quickly caught Tara’s eye and she slinked toward it, reaching for the largest knife and sliding it out slowly. She then grabbed her phone. I should alert Warren, she thought. Where the hell is he? But as she looked down at her phone, the screen was shattered, and her heart sank.

She turned toward the window. He was almost at the barn now, and Tara’s heart thumped in her chest because she didn’t have a second to