tidewaterbound
Cover image
Synopsis
Bailey and Cindy have never met. Two women living vastly differently lifestyles suddenly find themselves connected through their glasses. Each viewing glimpses into the other’s life.
The connection strengthens and becomes more frequent. Warnings are shared but when tragedy looms, can the other be saved? Can the other be found?
Excerpt
Steve caught up with Bailey as she rounded the side of the trailer, heading for the back deck and the sliding glass entrance. The sliding glass door stood open on a chilly and windy day. Steve grabbed Bailey’s arm to stop her. She turned to look at him. Steve drew a finger to his mouth signaling Bailey to be quiet. She nodded knowing they had to proceed with care at this point.
From within came the sounds of children crying, a male shouting, and then thuds, and finally a woman’s cry of fury and pain.
Steve caught Bailey’s eye, all inside were still alive. Neither of them had any experience in this kind of drama or crime. If they rushed in, whoever the threat was could kill Cindy or her children in response. Their hearts racing they slipped inside and found the children in the living room, there were three, Bailey knew. She was relieved that all three were safe for the moment but howling for their mother from the living room.
The other voices were off the kitchen off a short hallway, presumably the master bedroom. Steve stopped short looking for a weapon but Dylan ran up and jumped into his arms, followed by Joey, and then Chelsea who clung to him like glue.
Bailey spied what Steve was going for, the cast iron fire shovel by the wood stove. It was long and heavy, she bypassed Steve who was now covered with children, snatching up the heavy fire shovel. Without pause, she turned and ran down the hallway towards the master bedroom door. There were more thuds and smacks, the man was laughing.
She was closer now pausing just outside the bedroom door, Bailey could hear his words.
“Give it up Bitch, you know you want it. You want it from a real man. Fucking a wimp like my brother, you’ll appreciate what I’ll give you if you want those kiddies to keep breathing,” laughed Julian.
It was Julian who said the words, but Bailey heard Ward’s voice. It was the same threat, the same pain happening all over again. The pain you can’t scream against as you endure it. Then there was the sound of a fist upon flesh, likely Cindy’s face, she moaned low in agony as her body thudded up against the far wall. Bailey could hear Cindy gasping for air.
The power of righteous anger flooded Bailey. Her hold on the fire shovel so tight it felt bonded to her flesh. For all the shovel’s weight it felt light as a feather, she tossed the bedroom door open taking in the scene in total.
Cindy was in a fetal position in the corner. Julian stood over Cindy grabbing a hunk of her hair to yank her back up, to hit her again. Cindy’s face was battered and bloody, her eyes showing the fear that Bailey knew so well. Cindy’s t-shirt and bra had ripped from her, the bruises already beginning to form as she tried to shield her nakedness even in the middle of the attack by Julian.
Julian was laughing, right up until he heard the door open.
He turned, an expression of surprise on his face, a touch of anger at the intrusion, expecting one of the children he could soon dispatch, he faced Bailey.
Julian, raised an eyebrow, and sneered, “Wanna join the party girl? I’ve got plenty enough for two,” before he laughed again.
Years of hatred and anger were unleashed in an instant. Bailey screamed a war cry as guttural as the first human ever to sound it and rounded the fire shovel with deadly accuracy and the strength of all her pent up rage onto Julian’s forehead and nose. Bailey swung it hard and long, so hard her feet left the floor before impact—every ounce of her being went into this swing. It was going to be all or nothing.
It was all.
The impact of the cast iron fire shovel weighing nearly twenty pounds swung with all the force of 135 pounds of irate Bailey killing Julian before he ever hit the floor shattering his skull. He was lucky he didn’t suffer. He should have suffered thought Bailey in those initial seconds just afterward before her hands could let go of the fire shovel.
