It was late afternoon before Martha gave her grudging permission for Kevin to drive Sam home. By then, Sam had a massive headache that was only being compounded by all the children’s noise.
Exuding a sigh of relief, Sam leaned momentarily against the inside of the door savoring the silence around her. Slowly, she made her way to the kitchen. The back door had been left wide open from the night before, but aside from a thoroughly soaked kitchen floor and rug, there was no major damage done. Swans Island didn’t have much of a crime rate. Sam shut and locked the door before going up the back staircase to her bedroom.
She had made up her mind. She was going to Boston. Jake would have to listen to her if she showed up on his doorstep. And if he wouldn’t, well, she would just find someone else who would. Somewhere, there had to be someone who would believe her.
Quickly, she stripped off the filthy and tattered clothes, kicking them into a corner of the bathroom as she gratefully stood under the steaming shower. After last night’s ordeal, the steady pounding of the water against her bruised body felt nothing short of therapeutic. She was heavily tempted to linger, but knew she needed to hurry if she intended to make the 4:15 ferry off the Island.
Stopping at her desk only long enough to collect the small disc and her data - filled bag, Sam was out the door in a record twenty minutes. She fumbled in her bag for the keys as she ran to her car. After a few moments of frustration she finally located them and hurriedly turned the ignition. The clock on the dash read 4:08. She was going to make it on time after all.
Sam rapidly backed the car up, spinning gravel out from under her tires as she did so. Throwing the gear shift into drive, she shoved her foot down hard on the accelerator. She had almost reached the end of her driveway when the exit was suddenly blocked by the unexpected appearance of the Volkswagen bus.
Even with both her feet jammed on the brake, Sam couldn’t stop the car quickly enough at that speed on the dirt. She braced herself as best she could as her car continued to slide and then loudly but harmlessly crashed into the old bus.
Per was at her car door before she could get it open. He said nothing as he firmly took Sam by the elbow and propelled her out of the car. Stridently, Sam tried to shake his hand from her arm but Per would not relax his grip on her.
She faltered, stumbling to keep up as he strode purposely back down the long drive towards her house.
By the time they had reached the porch, Per was practically dragging her.
"Come on, Samantha," he said tightly, as he pulled her up over the steps and through the front door into the house. Once inside, he relinquished his iron grasp on her arm.
Rubbing the blood flow back into her numb right arm, Sam furtively glanced about.
I could try to run, she thought. But she knew that would be useless. Even if she could somehow get out of the house away from Per, where would she go? She was on an island, for Christ’s sake. Where the hell was she going to run to?
Watching her closely, Per saw her eyes alter as she quickly discarded one notion of escape after another. He didn’t want to harm her, but he knew he could not let her go now.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" Sam asked him grimly.
Immediately Per’s body relaxed. She was accepting the situation with, if not absolute grace, at least good sense.
"Please," he said, pointing to the parlor.
But instead of sitting, Sam started frantically going through her desk drawers.
"What are you looking for, Samantha?" Per tensed, thinking about the gun she kept somewhere. He was relieved, however, when she produced an unopened pack of cigarettes instead.
"So much for quitting ...... " she mumbled as she lit one. For a moment she smoked in silence. Then, as if newly fortified, she resolutely turned and looked directly at Per.
"Who the hell are you?"