Not Quite Dead (A Lowcountry Mystery)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Beau grabs my hand and hauls me the rest of the way up the steps. We press against the house to one side of the front door. I'm numb, in shock, but struggling to find a way to help my cousin.

Jake's voice booms from inside, loud enough I'm surprised the bricks don't rattle against my back.

"When did you sneak away and call her, tell her to come?"

More banging, punctuated by what sounds like china smashing into the floor or walls. Each shattering thud makes me jump, and my heart stumbles loose from my chest at what sounds like an overturned table. Amelia's sobs rip out pieces of my soul. The wind sucks them away.

"What are we going to do?" I whisper to Beau.

He doesn't answer, but he does pull out his phone and dial, pressing it to his ear. "Hello. Yes, I'd like to report a domestic disturbance. The address is..." He raises his eyebrows at me, then repeats what I rattle off from memory before disconnecting.

"You don't deserve to have my baby! You're nothing but a whore. It's probably not even mine, the way you run around like the little slut you used to be whenever I'm out of town—don't think I haven't been watching you." Another sickening thump and crack leap through the walls, and Amelia shrieks again.

We can't wait.

"You're lucky I married you in the first place. You played such an innocent little goody-goody, little Millie Cooper from one of the most worthless families in Charleston. But I chose you. Raised you up. And this is how you repay me. Telling lies to your bitch cousin, inviting her here without permission."

"I didn't invite her, Jake, I swear. I don't want anyone but you," Amelia begs, sobbing so hard the words are hard to understand.

"You can't go back to your old life, Amelia. I won't let you leave."

"I won't say a word, Jake, and I'll never talk to Gracie again, I swear. I only want you. You, me, and the baby."

It's hard to know what effect she expects her words to have, but their impact seems lost on Jake, who's worked himself into the kind of rage that's blind, deaf, and dumb, to boot.

The police aren't going to make it in time, and as the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh pummels my ears, combining with my cousin's pathetic mewls, Beau puts his hand on the doorknob. It turns under the pressure, surprising us both. Jake doesn't seem like the careless type, but if he was in as big a hurry as Beau guessed, it makes sense.

There's no way they can hear us creeping on the hardwood floors over the ruckus of their fight. We pause outside the kitchen threshold, Beau checking his watch with an impatient expression. It would be best, and smartest, to wait for the police. Nothing good can come of us barging in playing the vigilante heroes, but I'm not going to stand here and let him kill her.

"Let go, Jake, you're hurting me. Think about the baby." Her voice is a sliver, barely audible through the razor wire of pain.

Jake's voice drops, too, barely above a whisper now. "I'm going to kill you, Amelia. Do you want to know how?"

She sobs almost silently, and Beau's eyes meet mine. They say we won't let that happen, not without a fight. Talk to him, I mentally urge my cousin. Buy us some time.

"Your stupid, meddlesome cousin and that fancy boy she's spreading her legs for will come sniffing around, so we've got to have a good story. Here's what I think. You'll kill yourself. It's believable after that pathetic display you put on for them tonight."

"Think about it, Jake." Her voice trembles but works at being conversational. "Why would I kill myself?"

"You won't want to live after you lose another baby, sweetheart."