Vulnerable to Deceptive Love

Prologue

Dawson Rutherford worked to unfasten his leather belt while his son pushed him in his wheelchair to the door of his private bathroom off his bedroom. His nearly useless left hand, clumsy from the major stroke that nearly took his life, struggled in conjunction with his good hand to pull the belt loose from the steel prong running through the belt hole.

"Damn it, might just as well not wear a belt," he complained, his bowels commanding him to hurry.

"Here, Dad, let me help you," Colby offered. He bent down and undid the belt.

"Just take it off. I don’t need the damn thing anyway. My pants aren’t going to fall off with me sitting in this infernal wheelchair."

Colby pulled at the belt, having to reach around his dad to pull it through each loop because the belt was nearly wider than the loops were. Finally, it came free. Colby set the belt on the sink counter. He undid the snap on his dad’s pants and unzipped the zipper, having done this so many times now that it no longer caused him discomfort and embarrassment. He physically lifted his father from the wheelchair and moved him onto the high-seated toilet, special made to accommodate getting on and off more easily—with help, of course.

"Go on back to the party. I’ll be finished in about twenty minutes," Dawson told his son.

"You sure you don’t want me to stay here, Dad?"

"No, no, just go," he said cantankerously with a flick of his hand.

"I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t try to get off the toilet by yourself." Colby pulled the bathroom door slightly ajar in case his father called out while he was gone. Although with all the noise downstairs he probably wouldn’t hear him anyway. He did it simply by habit.

Dawson silently cursed his damn bowels that had to act up in the middle of his birthday party. He was fifty-eight today, and while he didn’t much enjoy parties anymore, talking to old friends from his past business days had lit his face with pleasure. It felt like old times on other birthday parties Laurette had thrown for him before the stroke when he had laughed, joked, and even teased his guests.

Now, all he wanted to do was empty his contrary bowels and rejoin the party. He wanted to put on his best front for Laurette, his wife. She had gone to a great deal of trouble to plan today’s event, which included a guest list of around sixty old friends and business associates.

Colby had only been gone a couple of minutes when Dawson heard his bedroom door creak open and the soft pad of footsteps across the carpeted floor. Colby, is that you? he called. I’m not through yet.

He watched, spellbound as his bathroom door opened.

He found himself gazing into the cold eyes of a stranger.

Gasping, his mouth formed a moue. What the hell! The party is downstairs. Get out of here, he demanded in a shaky, slurred tone that sent spittle spewing from his mouth.

Dawson saw the malicious grin on the man’s lips, and watched him take a pair of latex gloves from his pocket. Grinning, he slipped them on his hands. He took his time, a glint in his cold eyes expressing enjoyment of what he was doing.

Dawson tensed. His heart pounded in his chest. A chill raced over his torso and limbs and prickly fear surged through him. The latex gloves were a giveaway. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His shoulders tensed and his chest tightened, his posture paralyzed with fear. Sudden suspicion of what was about to happen seized him. He just didn’t understand why. Had his wife hired someone to kill him? He tried to scream, but fear created a sudden paralysis in his throat.

He was helpless.

If he tried to stand, with only one good leg, he would fall to the floor. He was a victim, not only of his disability, but of the man hovering over him. He could do nothing to thwart his fate.

The man reached a gloved hand and retrieved Dawson’s leather belt off the counter. He smiled, a non-changing expression of marked evil spreading to his grin..

Dawson saw the man’s look and knew he was going to die.

He watched in pure terror as the man wrapped the leather belt around his neck, strung it through the belt buckle, while his evil mocking grin punctuated the ominous silence.

"Why?" Dawson managed, his voice sounding like air squeezed from an inflated balloon.

Dawson grabbed at one of the man’s hands, trying to release the pressure of the tightening belt around his throat. His attempt was futile against the man’s greater strength. He reached up toward the man’s neck. As soon as he touched flesh, he dug his fingers into it and raked his fingernails across the man’s neck.

The man grabbed his hand, jerking it away, seeming unaware of the blood seeping from his neck and soaking into the collar of his shirt.

Dawson struggled with what remaining strength he had left.

The belt tightened on his throat.

Dawson labored to get air into his lungs. He heard a wheezing sound from his throat. The belt grew tauter, squeezing his windpipe shut.

No moving air entered his lungs.

His body struggled, finally twitching with the last heartbeats of life, and then growing limp. Only the killer’s continued pressure of the belt around his neck kept him from collapsing from the toilet seat to the floor.

The killer felt for a pulse. Not finding one, he removed the belt from Dawson’s neck, stepping back to observe the lifeless body falling sideways off the toilet seat.

The gold watch, given to Dawson by his son, Colby, fell from Dawson’s shirt pocket.

The killer saw its glowing yellow brilliance beneath the overhead light, and while he knew he shouldn’t take anything that could tie him to the crime, he was thinking how much that watch would bring in a pawn shop. He picked it up and put it in his pants pocket.

He tossed the belt aside on the floor, snatched off his latex gloves and pocketed them.

The killer hurried from the bathroom.

From the top of the stairs he saw the foyer was empty, except for an old woman who was making her way to the hallway bathroom downstairs. He waited until he heard the bathroom door close then he hurried unseen down the stairs, out the front door to his truck, and drove away.

Dawson Rutherford was dead on his fifty-eighth birthday. The killer had set in motion a horror story for Dawson Rutherford’s family that would nearly destroy them.

Chapter One

Three months earlier

The front door of the modest three-bedroom wood-constructed home on the outskirts of Northbend, Florida, opened quietly. A slender woman wearing a white turban over a hairless scalp stepped with wilting gait through the front doorway. Her anguished face held shadows of disillusionment and pain. Red-blotches scattered across her bony cheeks, neck, and chest. Her red eyes appeared to float in pools of tears. She wiped her damp cheeks with the back of her hand while taking the most direct path toward her bedroom.

Before she reached the hallway off the inexpensively furnished living room, she was approached by her daughter who rushed out from the kitchen where she had been making a pot of coffee, now wiping her hands on a towel. Her long auburn hair hung in a waist-length plait, but around her face and forehead were unruly tuffs and waves.

Mama, my God, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you. I went to your bedroom to check on you this morning and you were gone. You know you aren’t supposed to drive. You could have gotten in a wreck and killed yourself or someone else.

Sonya Marsh Stone kept her expressively troubled face turned from her daughter’s searching gaze. She continued moving toward her bedroom down the hallway. Her feet dragged heavily until she got to the last mahogany stained door on the left.

Mama, please talk to me, twenty-three year old Autumn Marsh pleaded while following her mother’s diminutive form that labored weakly on legs threatening to give away any moment. Where have you been? You know I would have driven you any place you needed to go.

Once in her bedroom, Sonya fell upon her bed. It was where she had spent most of her time in the past few weeks while going through her chemotherapy treatments for the cancer. The chemo had depleted her strength, leaving her too weak to make the effort of getting out of bed except to go to the bathroom or limp to the kitchen at mealtimes—until today. Her curiosity impelled her to follow her husband.

A new burst of tears flooded her dull green eyes and washed down her pale, drawn cheeks. I thought Rory cared about me. I thought he loved me, she wept forlornly, her voice pitifully weak and shaky.

What has he done now, Mama? Autumn asked gently, kneeling on the bed beside her emaciated and sickly mother. She fought back anger and frustration to avoid upsetting her mom further. She hated Rory Stone who had latched onto Sonya at a time when he didn’t have a dime in his pocket and no place to stay. Sonya knew nothing of his past, and he had never bothered sharing. His excuse for being without money and a place to live was that his wife had divorced him, took everything he had, and caused him to lose his job.

Autumn never doubted that he was lying. Her mom was less skeptical than she was.

Autumn recalled the story of how her mother and Rory met. Mom, did it ever occur to you that it was no accident when Rory bumped into you in the grocery store?

I never believed that. I thought he was just being nice when he insisted on carrying my groceries out to my car. Then when he asked me for a date, I guess I hoped it might turn into something more permanent.

Oh it did. It didn’t take him no time to move in with you. After all, he needed a roof over his head.

Autumn, please try to understand. I was a lonely woman whose husband had died in a car accident when you were still a young child. Why shouldn’t I be interested in another man? Rory was highly appealing.

Yeah, probably like a predatory spider drawing you into its web, Autumn argued.

He loved me, Autumn, or he wouldn’t have married me so soon after we met.

Mom, you were a fifth grade teacher at the local elementary school with good income. You were his meal ticket. You gave Rory a roof over his head, paid the bills, and put gasoline in his truck while he picked up odd construction jobs that, according to him, never paid enough to enable him to contribute toward the rent and other household bills. He has been using you from the moment he met you.

Oh Autumn, you’re too critical of him.

I doubt that. Autumn suspected he was hoarding his money, while her mother spent hers to support them.

Despite Rory’s many faults he managed to display charisma and pizzazz when he had a selfish purpose. Sonya was beguiled by him from the moment she met him. He had thick black hair, a dark tanned muscular body, and could turn on charm capable of captivating a wild tiger when he chose. Even Autumn found him charming in the beginning before his faults outweighed his charade. Although he claimed to be a construction worker, mostly wearing jeans and t-shirts, he had a closetful of clothes, which included suits, sports coats, dress trousers, and shirts fine enough for an executive. His smooth hands defied the concept that he had always been in construction.

Then he ruined the friendly relationship he had established with Autumn, turning her against him for all time. It happened not long after she graduated from college and moved back home.

Her mother had turned in early that evening after dinner, stating that she wanted to finish the novel she had been reading. Autumn was standing at the kitchen sink washing the supper dishes, her mind drifting. Rory crept up behind her, eased his arms around her torso and cupped her breasts in his palms. You like this, don’t you? he whispered in her ear, so into himself that he expected everyone else to be, also.

August gasped, dropped a cup, which broke and splattered in the sink. She grabbed his hands and tore them loose from her breasts. She spun about with eyes shooting out anger and hatred. For him to even consider that she might consent to an incestuous relationship made her sick at her stomach.

Grabbing Rory between his thighs, she squeezed and twisted, temporarily disabling him. He let out a yowl like an endangered animal. You sorry son-of-a-bitch, you ever touch me again and I’ll make a eunuch out of you.

He stayed bent double a couple of minutes, grasping his privates and grunting in pain while she walked out of the kitchen. Thankfully, her mother’s habit of playing the television while she read her book had kept her from hearing the commotion.

She expected some form of retribution from Rory, but for whatever reason, he never mentioned the incident again.

After their confrontation, however, their relationship grew cold and cordial. They both put on an act for Sonya’s benefit. If it had been up to Autumn she would have thrown Rory Stone out long before he had time to become a permanent tenant through marriage to her mother. Still, Sonya had been a lonely woman too long and Autumn tolerated Rory because he fulfilled some deep need in her mother. He was the only one who could put a smile on her face, especially after she learned she had cancer. Autumn was willing to put up with him for her mom’s sake.

What did Rory do, Mama? Autumn asked when her mother made no reply to her last statement.

Sonya sobbed, blowing her nose into a tissue. He’s seeing another woman. I’ve suspected for awhile, but I had to find out for myself. I followed him this morning. He met an attractive woman at a restaurant near the outskirts of town. He’s been cheating on me all along and I was too much a fool to believe it. I guess I didn’t want to believe it.

Maybe he was just seeing someone about a job?

Sonya scoffed. I watched him wrap his arm about her waist and kiss her on the lips. I don’t call that a job interview, she argued spitefully, weeping through combined anger and sadness.

Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry, Autumn said, wrapping her arms about Sonya’s frail bony shoulders. Do you know the woman?

No, I’ve never seen her before, she sniffed.

Anger assailed Autumn.

From her kneeling position, she backed off the bed and started pacing back and forth across the floor. That SOB! I told you he was no good. He has been using you from the minute he met you, living under your roof, barely contributing to food, utilities, rent, or anything else. The bastard! Just say the word, Mama, and I’ll throw his clothes on the front lawn and we’ll be rid of the leech. She stopped pacing and dropped back down on the bed next to her mother.

Autumn’s threat caused a look of consternation to seize Sonya’s expression. She grabbed Autumn’s hand, her dull green eyes pleading. No, I don’t want you to do anything. Please, Autumn, I love him. I need him now more than I ever did. I really need him.

Autumn’s eyes filled with moisture, a deep welling pity for her mother twisting her heart. This was a time in her mother’s life she didn’t need to put up with this crap. Oh, Mama, why would you want that unfaithful SOB in your house and bed?

I need to be held, Autumn, especially now when my time is so short. I need his arms around me at night to keep my mind from dwelling through the long nights about my coming plight with death. Promise me you won’t say anything to him. Please, I beg you.

Autumn slid off the bed and walked across the carpeted floor to the window, pushing the curtains aside. Light flooded into the room. The sun shone lemon yellow across the lawn. This beautiful day was much like her graduation day from college three weeks ago. Everything would have been perfect at that time except for her mother’s illness. Although slowly dying of incurable cancer, Sonya found enough strength to make the outing to Autumn’s graduation. A wig covered her baldness as she sat humbly in the audience next to Rory and Agnes, her grandmother, with proud moist tears running down her cheeks. Since then, Autumn lived a day-to-day existence, watching her mother slowly slip away.

Turning away from the window, she walked to Sonya’s bed. Mama, I won’t say anything to Rory if that’s what you want.

Thank you, Honey, Sonya said, reaching and taking her hand. There’s something I need you to know. I have a large annuity I started when I first began teaching twenty-five years ago. I added a large sum to it every month of every year I taught school. Your name is on the account as my beneficiary. When something happens to me, you won’t have to worry about your future.

Autumn burst into tears. How like her mother to think of her. Oh Mama, she wept, reaching her arms around Sonya’s slender shoulders.

The weight of depression over Rory’s infidelity worsened Sonya’s illness. What little remaining health she still had inexorably slipped away when Rory started sleeping on the living room sofa. His absence from her bed deprived Sonya of Rory’s arms and his embrace that she longed for to enable restful sleep. He rarely spoke to her after that.

I’ve lost him, she had admitted to Autumn in tears.

She nibbled at her food, most of the time refusing it altogether, her strength quickly diminishing. It wasn’t the cancer killing her. She was starving to death because she refused to eat. Autumn wanted to take her to the hospital, but she begged and argued against it. I’m going to die, Autumn. Whether it happens sooner or later, please let me die here at home.

Autumn referred the matter to Sonya’s doctor. He looked at her forlornly. Autumn, there’s nothing else anyone can do for your mother. She is dying. If she chooses to die at home then let her have her last wish, he advised.

Sonya died quietly in her sleep less than a month later. Autumn found her the next morning, hugging her pillow to her chest, reminding Autumn of what her mother said about needing Rory to hold her at night.

*

Dressed in her good black two-piece suit, Autumn closed the door on the last of the mourners leaving her mother’s small home. Sonya had been well liked by many friends from her school. Several stopped by to pay their respects and enjoy the feast donated by friends and neighbors following her funeral.

Exhausted from the worry and vigil paid to Sonya over the last days of her life, Autumn fell heavily into an old recliner that had been her mother’s favorite. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. She considered how best to go about telling Rory he had to leave. Ever since the promise to her mother not mention his infidelity, or ask him to leave, she had treated him with the same cool indifference she had shown him since the time he came onto her in the kitchen. Because they both had put the incident behind them for Sonya’s sake, as far as Rory knew all was well with them. He had no inkling that she was wondering how to drop the gauntlet at his feet by challenging him to pack up and leave.

Autumn surreptitiously glanced toward him.

Rory, sitting on the sofa, flicked on the television and turned the sound down low. He glanced toward Autumn, his lascivious eyes plundering her youthful figure while he thoughtfully meditated on the best way to put this situation to his use. He knew about Sonya’s annuity and the fact that Autumn was the beneficiary. He had seen statements and the amount was no paltry sum. If he could get his hands on that money he could live like a king while waiting for his wealthy girlfriend to divorce her husband and marry him.

Autumn, are you okay, sweetheart? he asked with feigned tenderness and concern.

Autumn’s eyes popped open in reaction to his endearment. She swallowed nervously. I’m fine, she mumbled, her lids drifting closed again. The thought of telling him to leave kept gnawing at her. She wasn’t sure this was the right time. Maybe she should wait a few days and he might up and leave on his own. She wasn’t strong enough right now to get into an angry confrontation with Rory. She needed time to consider the best way to get him to leave without a fight ensuing between them.

He rose from the sofa. Taking her hand, he tugged gently. Come on, Baby, let’s get something to eat and you’ll feel better.

She was only too aware of his patronizing tone when he wanted something. He had used it repeatedly on her mother. She was tempted to jerk her hand from the tainted flesh of his hand that had maligned her mother’s trust through intimacies with another woman. But she knew if she ever opened the doors of her anger, there would be no stopping the spill of venom building in her for weeks. She attempted nonchalance. No, I’m not hungry, she said calmly, snatching her hand from his.

With a nod he gestured toward the kitchen. Well, I’ll just put the food in the refrigerator and clean up the kitchen, he volunteered, having gained a bit of practice after Sonya’s cancer weakened her to the point that she could no longer do house chores or cook for him.

Surprisingly, Rory had taken on the responsibility of cooking, cleaning, and taking Sonya back and forth to the doctor. He made himself nearly indispensible prior to Autumn’s graduation from college. It was just about the only contribution he ever made toward his livelihood in Sonya’s home, and while it was out of necessity rather than decency, he nevertheless was available when Sonya needed him during Autumn’s absence.

Autumn was thankful for Rory’s help during that depressing period after her shock of learning about her mother’s condition. She would likely have had to drop out of college if not for him. For that reason, she felt the slightest stab of humble pie pricking her conscience when she thought about throwing him out of the house. It occurred to her that he had to be aware of the fact he couldn’t continue living there with her.

She didn’t want to continue living there either.

She couldn’t even stand to open the door to her mother’s bedroom. There were too many memories in the house. She needed to start fresh, a different place to live, a job, a new beginning.

If you don’t have all the answers, just wait and they’ll come to you, her mother told her many times when something troubled her. She knew that now was a good time to put that advice to practice.

She heard a noise outside the front door and cocked her head to listen. Recognizing the sound of the mail carrier dropping letters in the mailbox, she crawled from the recliner and stepped outside. Lifting the stack of letters from the mailbox, she shuffled through the stack. A frown marred her features. The return addresses indicated they were bills she was certain had already been paid that month.

She started ripping the letters open one by one. The words Past Due stamped on the rent statement, the electric bill, and a number of others seemed to jump off the page at her. Her face heated with anger. She sucked in her breath on the sharp pain of cold, calculated betrayal by her two-bit stepfather. He had either written in his own name, or the word Cash, on the payee line of the checks, or had drawn the money out of the account with Sonya’s debit card.

She rushed back inside, this time going through the door to her mother’s room without a second thought. On the top shelf of the closet, she pulled down her mother’s purse and took out her checkbook. The register showed that Sonya had written checks for the same past due bills she held in her hand, obviously leaving the payee line blank for Rory to write it in. And he did, probably writing his name or cash on the payee line so he could cash them.

The unmitigated gall of that SOB, she fussed beneath her breath, gritting her teeth.

Autumn set Sonya’s purse back on the closet shelf. Sorting through the letters again, she pulled out one bearing the bank address of her mother’s checking account. She ripped it open and unfolded the statement, glancing quickly down the list of cleared checks that contained the same figures as on the register and the past due statements. Flipping to the second page of the statement she scanned the payee line on copies of cancelled checks. Blood rushed to her face. A flare of white rage consumed her. Just as she had suspected, the word Cash was written on the payee line. On the backside copy of the check, in the same handwriting as the word Cash, was Rory’s signature, which proved he had cashed the checks.

You dirty bastard! she swore, slinging a small figurine across the room which exploded on the wall and scattered in nondescript splinters on the carpeted floor.

Potent rage surged through her as raw as red meat. She knew that the battle she had been putting off had now been engaged

Chapter Two

Autumn dashed to the kitchen. Rory stood over the sink munching on a chicken leg. He spun about when he heard steps coming up behind him.

You sorry bastard! she screamed, flinging the stack of past due statements in his face and the bank statement on the counter.

What the hell? he exclaimed, throwing up his hands to protect his face. The letters bounced off his hands and body and fluttered to the floor at his feet.

Autumn didn’t need to explain. He knew exactly the reason for her temperament. When Sonya’s condition had worsened and death was imminent, he needed money in order to make other living arrangements. Sonya never knew what he was doing. His new girl friend had put him onto a hunter’s cabin in the woods. The owner only used it a few weeks out of the year and was glad to rent it for a small fee just to have a caretaker.

I want you out of here! Do you understand? I want you out of this house right now! Autumn screamed. Nervous perspiration threaded down her temples while color fluctuated in her cheeks.

Wait a minute, hold on, sweetheart. What the hell are you talking about? Wrath rumbled low in his throat. Her actions incited such a fury that he clenched his fist to keep from hitting her. He felt the sudden throbbing of a pulse at the base of his neck and temple. Heat flushed his face.

I’m talking about my mother’s checks written to pay the rent, telephone, and electricity. You wrote Cash on the payee line of the checks, she yelled in venomous rage.

He dredged up a cynical smile at one corner of his mouth, but behind that sardonic facade was a smoldering, burning rage. She asked me to write in the payee name because she was too weak to do it. He was actually gloating.

You sorry good-for-nothing bastard! she screamed. My mother supported you from the time you moved in here. It wasn’t enough for you to have a roof over your head and food to eat. You had to steal her money, too. You’re a leech, Rory Stone! My poor mom was too trusting to see that you were a no good bum taking advantage of her. She overlooked your shiftlessness, even made excuses for you. But rest assured that I won’t make the same mistake.

Rory thrust his hands aloft in quiet supplication, all the while thinking of that annuity fund Sonya left to Autumn. He had been thinking about that money for weeks before Sonya died. He had even tried to get her to change the beneficiary, but it was the one thing she refused him. That’s when he started calculating a plan to woo Autumn. He surmised she would be an easy prey once he turned on the charm.

He hadn’t counted on something like this blow up between them.

Muscles twitched tensely in Rory’s lean jaw. Knowing he had to play this moment with finesse to win her over, he mustered all the control he could. Come on, Baby, you don’t know what you’re talking about. He sent her a pleading gaze with sad eyes like a kicked dog. Your mother needed medicine. There were doctor bills to pay. If I had told her I was having trouble getting the doctor bills paid it would have worried her, so I did what I had to do. He reached out and touched her arm with feigned affection.

Autumn jerked away from him. Don’t touch me you no-good liar. My mother had good medical insurance that paid her medical bills. What she didn’t need was a low-life bastard embezzling funds from her. Get the hell out of this house. I’m sure you have some other woman you can run to. Mom knew you were seeing someone else.

His rapidly souring disposition fused the situation. The rigid set of his jaw made him grind his teeth in vexation. Where in the hell did you get that damn notion? I sat here day after day looking after your mother while you were at college. I haven’t had time to see anyone else, and you damn well wouldn’t have finished that fancy education of yours if I hadn’t quit my job to stay home with your mother.

His arrogance pricked her pride. Quit your job, my ass! You never could hold a job. How many times did I hear you sit with my mother at that breakfast table bellyaching that your boss didn’t like you, or your boss had to cut back, or your boss needed someone more skilled than you were. Job after job you played out your excuses to mama like a tape player. While she may not always have believed you, she accepted your lies and patted you on the back, saying, ‘There are other jobs. You’ll find another.’ You are nothing but a petty flimflam swindler, who plays on the emotions of innocent women, but you never fooled me, you SOB. I tolerated you because mama asked me to; otherwise, your ass would have been out of here long ago. Just get your things and get the hell out of this house.

Rory gave a derisive snort, his mind suddenly churning in heated, angry turmoil. All thought of the annuity diminished with the awareness that it was out of his reach.

Just as Autumn was about to turn on her heels to walk away, he shot out the palm of his hand and slashed her with brute force across the face. It busted her bottom lip and blood gushed out and dripped down her chin.

"Bitch, you don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do that to you since the first time I met you. I’ve never much cared for your smart-alecky mouth and I’d just as soon you get your damn things and get out."

Darkness swirled about Autumn’s head for a few seconds. The slashing blow nearly knocked her off her feet. She grabbed onto a piece of furniture to steady herself. Her face smarted where blood raced to the handprint on her cheek. Her chin was aching and felt out of joint and her lip throbbed with pain, but her anger drove her on.

She turned and ran from the kitchen to her mother’s room. She opened the closet door and grabbed a handful of Rory’s clothing off the rack. Racing to the front door, she tossed the pile on the lawn and ran back for more.

Her actions boded ill after Rory stepped from the kitchen into the living room and saw the front door standing open and his clothes littering the lawn. His temper peaked. Stomping down the hall and entering Sonya’s room, he grabbed Autumn’s arm, jerking her away from the closet containing his clothing. Shirts and pants filling her arms fell to the floor as she fell backward into the dresser, lost her balance, and slammed to the floor.

Beyond rational thought while fighting tears of anger and humiliation, she clambered to her feet and went at him with all her strength. She flung her arms and hands, digging and gouging flesh with her fingers.

Rory shoved her away, but she came back at him, fighting like a wildcat, and spewing epithets in an explosion of wrath. With a dangerous glint in his eyes, he slapped her again with the full impact of his palm, slamming her back against the wall. The slap broke her nose, bruised the skin beneath her eye and added additional damage to her broken lip. Blood poured from her nostrils and lip, dripping on the shirt she wore and on the carpeted floor.

Screaming like a banshee, she rushed at him again, her adrenaline flowing so strongly, she was barely aware of the damage he did to her face. When she reached up to rake her fingers down the side of his face, he slammed his fist in the side of her head, sending her falling backward on the bed where Sonya had died just four days previously. She didn’t move. Her head angled sideways and the blood flowed from her nose and lip into the bedding.

Outside in the yard next door, old Mrs. Elliton, Autumn’s neighbor, dug with a spade in the rich soil of a flowerbed she had prepared for the caladiums she planned to plant. She heard the scream and stopped what she was doing, listening. More screams rang out. That’s when she spotted the clothing on the front lawn and knew something was wrong. She had watched Sonya being buried that same day. In fact, she had just come from next-door not more than an hour ago. She knew that clothes on the lawn and screaming weren’t conducive to the aftermath of a funeral for a loved one. Then she heard the loud voice of Rory, a man whom she had never liked.

I know just the thing for you, you bothersome little bitch, Rory shouted.

Autumn was beyond hearing him.

Mrs. Elliton rushed inside and called the police then went back outside. From the garden bed where she was spading dirt out of holes in preparation for the planting of her caladiums she had a good view of the front of Sonya’s house next door.

Rory stood above Autumn where she lay across the bed, her feet hanging off the side. You little bitch, I’m going to give you what you’ve wanted ever since I’ve been here, he asserted scornfully, his dark eyes gleaming with conquest.

He tore off his belt, unsnapped his pants and unzipped them. Shoving them down to his feet with his underwear, he glanced at his gorged manhood. Slapping her around had given him a hard on and while she was out-cold, he planned to do what he had wanted to do to her more times than he could count.

He jerked her jeans down her hips and legs and off her feet. He ripped off her sheer bikini panties, gazed lasciviously at the burnished brown mound at the apex of her thighs. He indulged his fingers in an exploration of feminine parts that had drawn his imagination many times in the past. He observed her tender flesh and it sent his desire skyrocketing.

Autumn’s head moved slightly and a low moan escaped her throat.

Rory feared a premature ejaculation, so he wasted no further time. He spread her legs and moved in place on top of her.

Barely conscious, Autumn fluttered weakly beneath him, vaguely aware of his intentions. She raised one arm, forcing a hand between them in an effort to push him away. His strength and body weight were no match for her, especially since she was barely conscious.

Just as she let out a weak moan, Noooo, he penetrated her and proceeded to pound her mercilessly, all the while thinking to teach her a lesson while he pleasured himself.

He was ferocious and the pain shot through her with such persistence that it sent her into unconsciousness again. She went limp beneath his weight.

His vicious pounding lasted less than two minutes before he groaned, shuddered, and fell limp on top of Autumn. When he got his breath, he rolled off her, stumbling to his feet. He grabbed his clothing, jerking on his shorts and pants. He fastened his belt, and stuck his feet in his loafers.

He kneeled on the bed next to Autumn. He slapped her face a couple of times, his hand slashing back and forth across her cheeks, causing her head to move with the impact.

Her emerald green eyes blinked weakly. Fear whorled wildly in their depths.

You’re lucky I don’t just kill you, Rory growled with menace. He held a switch blade knife to her throat. If you file charges against me, Bitch, you had better prepare for your maker because the minute I get the opportunity I’ll slit that pretty white throat of yours before you even know I’m behind you. Just to confirm his point, he made a shallow slit on her neck, where blood quickly flooded to the surface.

He wiped the switchblade on the sheet and restored it to his pants pocket. "You even dare mention this to anyone and I’ll destroy you in this town. When I get through telling how you’ve teased and rubbed up against