Again, she didn't have time to rest for too long, she had to keep moving.
Pushing the door open she was met with a set of stairs leading down. Clutching the railing she managed to stagger down the steps and found herself in a garage. It was messy and full of tools and boxes and other odds and ends. Ignoring all of it she went for the door. As soon as she opened it, she gasped.
She immediately recognized where she was.
This was Beau’s house.
She had been here before when Mila had asked her to pick up the kids for her so she didn't have to see her almost ex at a court ordered custody exchange.
Rylla’s heart soared with hope. She was in the middle of a busy family neighborhood, there should be someone around to help her.
She was about to start for the nearest house when an arm wrapped around her and yanked her back.
“You got out.” Beau’s voice in her ear was more resigned than surprised.
“I won't ever stop trying, Beau. I’ll never love you. You’re sick. You need help. Think of Emmy and Mac, let’s go straight to the police station, you can turn yourself in and we can get you the help that you need.”
“I don’t need help. What I need is a woman who knows how to be the perfect wife,” Beau said as he yanked her arms behind her back and handcuffed her.
“No one like that exists,” she insisted. “You’re looking for something that you can never find. No woman is going to measure up to the standards that you’ve set.”
“Maybe you're right,” he said slowly, dragging her backward and closing the door. “Maybe I can't find what I want. Maybe there’s no such woman.”
Although it sounded like he was agreeing with her she had the feeling in fact he wasn't. “Let’s get you help, Beau,” she pleaded.
“I think I know what I was doing wrong,” he said as he turned her around and hefted her over his shoulder walking with her through the garage and into a small room at the side. “You, and Mila, and all those other women were too old. You’re past the point of being able to learn. Maybe I need someone younger.”
Fear gripped her, was he going to go after his daughter next? Right now, she wouldn’t put anything past him. He was so consumed with getting what he wanted that he was completely disregarding the thoughts and feelings of anyone else. “Don’t hurt Emmy, Beau.”
“I'd never hurt my kid.” He sounded offended and dropped her into a large hole in the floor. The ground back here was dirt, and beside the shallow grave was a pile of dirt. He was going to bury her alive. For a claustrophobic like herself that was about the most horrifying way imaginable to die.
“Don’t do this, Beau,” she begged. Between her hands cuffed behind her back, her cracked ribs, and her injured leg, she was struggling to get up but couldn’t.
“I'm sorry, Rylla. I thought you could be the one. I was so sure of it. When I first grabbed you on the street the other night, I felt it in my bones. But I was wrong. You can't give me what I want.” He picked up a shovel and tossed the first load of dirt on top of her.
“Think of your kids, you already took their mother from them, don’t make them lose you too. Please, Beau. When my partner eventually finds you, please turn yourself in, don’t make him kill you.”
Beau had ceased listening to her, she could tell. He was focused on his task, tipping shovelful after shovelful of dirt onto her. With each one the feeling of claustrophobia grew until she too was consumed.
Rylla wanted to beg him to stop but she knew that nothing would convince him to let her live, he’d already dug this hole, he had intended to kill her even before he saw that she had escaped.
The dirt was soon crushing her.
The pressure on her injured lungs was agony.
She couldn’t move.
The dirt was inching closer and closer to her face.
Beneath it her skin crawled with terror like a million spiders were scuttling all over her.
She wanted out of here right now.
She’d thought she could save herself. And she almost had. She’d gotten out of that room, she’d gotten to the door, she’d been so close.
But close wasn't good enough.
Now she was going to die alone just like Josh had.