At the time, Ron’s next door neighbor was a habitual chain-smoker. The guy never slept, spent the night burning through soft-packs on the back porch. He’d heard awful noises and dialed 911.
The banging on the door had startled both men.
“I can’t enjoy myself now.” The intruder’s voice was childlike. “I’ll have to finish you fast.”
Ron struggled against the duct tape.
Wordlessly, the intruder thrust his hand down and the black handle hilt was flush to Ron’s stomach. Then the blade twisted.
Police lights flashed to life.
***
Sirens blared.
“Ron! Please pull over.” Kelly looked over her shoulder. A westbound police cruiser had u-turned through the grassy median and was hot in pursuit.
Ron pounded the steering wheel. “We’re too damn close!” The dashboard needle teetered over one hundred miles.