Chapter 7 - The Edge of the Loft
Lila backed away from the loft opening, her small shoes sinking into the old, dry hay that covered the floorboards. The air up here was thick with dust and the sharp smell of aged cedar.
At the far end of the loft was a large loading door used decades ago to hoist hay bales from outside. It was currently closed, held shut by an ancient wooden latch.
Lila ran to the loading door, her hands frantically pulling at the wooden bar. It was stuck, swollen shut by years of humidity and rain.
Behind her, Claire’s head appeared over the edge of the floorboards.
Her white wedding dress was torn and filthy, covered in dark grease and wet straw. Her hair had come loose from its elegant bun, falling around her face in dark, wet strands. But her eyes—her dark, calculating eyes—were fixed entirely on the cassette player in Lila’s arms.
"There's nowhere left to run, Lila," Claire said, pulling herself up onto the loft floor. She stood up straight, holding the heavy iron tire bar at her side. "You're a clever little girl. Too clever for your own good. Just like Naomi."
"Stay away from me!" Lila held the cassette player higher, pressing her back flat against the locked wooden door.
"Do you know why I hated your mother?" Claire asked, taking a slow, measured step across the hay-covered floorboards. "She had everything. She had wealth, she had status, she had a handsome husband, and she didn't even appreciate it. She spent all her time reading books, playing with flowers, worrying about you. She was weak."
"She was good!" Lila cried out. "She was kind to you!"
"Kindness is what rich people use to make themselves feel superior," Claire spit out bitter words. "She treated me like a pet project. 'Poor Claire, working as my assistant, let me give her my old dresses.' I didn't want her old dresses, Lila. I wanted her life. And I took it."
Claire took another step. She was only six feet away now.
"And now, I'm going to take the rest of it," Claire whispered, raising the iron bar. "Your father will tell the police you ran away into the storm after your breakdown at the church. You slipped into the river behind the property. Tragic. A broken family destroyed by grief."
"No!" Lila screamed.
She didn't try to pull the door latch again. Instead, she reached into her coat pocket, pulled out the small brass flashlight, and pointed it directly into Claire’s eyes, switching on the high-powered LED beam.
The intense, sudden light blinded Claire in the dark loft.
Claire shrieked, swinging the iron bar wildly into the air, losing her balance on the slippery hay.
Lila threw her whole weight against the old wooden loading door.
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The rotten wooden latch snapped.
The double doors burst open into the storm, and Lila tumbled backward out into the cold air, hanging on to the edge of the wooden floorboards with her fingertips, fifteen feet above the muddy ground outside.
