"And so it is, with great regret, that we inform the public of Jackson Rippner's escape."
"Thank you, Bill. Rippner, involved in the Keefe assassination attempt, escaped from jail last night while being led to his execution. Details have not yet been given, but the public has been warned that Rippner is armed and dangerous and could be…"
The television screen went black, and Lisa Reisert looked up to the side to see her father standing in the living room doorway, one hand holding the remote control, the other holding a steaming mug of coffee.
"I think," Joe said, sitting down on the couch next to his daughter, "that you've watched enough CNN and FOX for the morning."
"He's loose, Dad," Lisa murmured, taking the coffee from him.
"So I know. We were the first ones informed," Joe nodded. "He won't come here, Lisa. He doesn't want to be shot again."
"He wants revenge. He threatened to steal me," Lisa answered, eyes bloodshot.
"Finish your coffee. We need to be at the courthouse in half an hour."
Lisa nodded and then took a sip of the rich drink. It burned as it trickled down her throat, but there were far greater troubles on her mind. Jackson Rippner, that aggressive, intelligent, charming assassin, had escaped. He had told her that they would meet again, and he never lied.
An unexplainable fear gripped Lisa's heart as she finished the hot liquid. Already she could feel his cold eyes burning into her, could hear his raspy voice whispering her name as though it were the most vulgar name ever created.
The sunlight streaming into the house from large windows helped calm Lisa's nerves as she stepped into her room a few minutes later and opened her closet. The police knew that Jackson had escaped, and they would do a thorough search for him. The thing that was so puzzling about the situation was how he had escaped in the first place. He had been under the tightest security, and he had somehow vanished. The news told nothing of how he had managed that undertaking, nor did the police who had called the Reiserts early that morning.
Lisa dressed herself in a white blouse, business skirt and coat and then gazed at her reflection in her full-length mirror. She straightened her coat and then stood up a little taller.
"I will not allow you to haunt my thoughts and rob my joy, Jackson," she said firmly. "It's been a full year since you were in this house. I will not let the past frighten me."
Lisa did her best not to think of Jackson as Joe drove them to the courthouse minutes later. There was far too much pain involved with his name and an immense amount of bad memories aligned with his face.
Inspector Paul Patterson was waiting at his desk when Joe and Lisa arrived. He stood up to greet them, gestured to a couple of chairs, and then sat down as they did.
"To the matter at hand," he spoke when Joe and Lisa were comfortable. "Rippner escaped at 7:30 last night while on his way to be lethally injected. While he never spoke of you in prison, I advise both of you to be extremely cautious and alert. His type of criminal mind is the most dangerous sort. He thinks before he acts."
"How did he escape?" Joe asked, putting his hand over Lisa's.
"Somehow he and the guards were enveloped by smoke and tear gas. When the smoke cleared, Rippner was missing. It is rumored," Insp. Patterson said, lowering his voice and leaning forward, "that the FBI was involved."
"Do they know where he is now?" Lisa asked.
"I haven't been given that information."
"So Jackson's loose and no one knows where," Lisa sighed.
"The FBI might know."
"Even if they know where his now, they won't in a matter of hours. They don't know what they're dealing with. This man, Inspector, survived two bullets in the chest and a stab in the throat. He escaped from a heavily guarded prison, and he has contacts no doubt throughout the entire world. He's back in his game and there's nothing the FBI can do about it."
"That's rather a bleak outlook," Insp. Patterson smiled.
"Jackson nearly killed me and my father. How else would you have me look at it?" Lisa frowned.
"As a possible way to assist the FBI. I do apologize, but I have another appointment," the inspector said, looking at his watch. "I don't believe Rippner is a fool enough to stay in Florida, but in the event that you should see him or evidences of him, call me immediately."
"Assuming we aren't dead yet," Lisa scowled as she stood up. "Thank you, Inspector."
"If I hear anything more about Rippner, I'll let you know," Inspector Patterson said as he opened the office door for Joe and Lisa. "Thank you for coming."
Joe studied Lisa's face carefully as they walked back out to their car. He knew, from the tight lines that creased his daughter's forehead and the shine in her eyes, that she was furious. She had every reason to be. She had been horrifically scared, threatened to no end, had been at the edge of being strangled or stabbed to death, and had run like a madwoman through a busy airport to escape from the man who was now roaming free somewhere, and, in her mind, was planning to kill her.
"I don't know what I can say to cheer you up," Joe said as they got into the car. "How does Chinese sound for lunch?"
"Sounds fine, Dad," Lisa sighed and leaned her head against the window, one hand in her hair, pulling at it viciously.
Lisa toyed with her chow mein, twisting it around her fork in aggravation. Had the police not heard anything she said about Jackson? He was extremely clever and horrifically lethal, and yet they had let him slip away right under their noses. For all they knew, he was in her house, waiting for her so he could jump out and kill her with that vicious knife of his.
After lunch, Joe and Lisa returned to their house, and Joe went into his office. Once he was out of sight, Lisa investigated every room, opening doors, pushing aside curtains and peeking into every cabinet and closet. She nearly had a heart attack when she entered the kitchen and caught sight of a glistening knife from the corner of her eye. With shaking fingers she put it back in its appropriate place and then sat down on a bar stool at the kitchen counter.
"Now stop it," she scolded herself. "It's daylight. Only a fool would attack now. Lisa, get a grip! You said you wouldn't let him enslave you with fear."
She pounded her fists on the counter and then stood up.
"You are going to work tomorrow, and you are going to be calm and controlled as always."
Having resolved this, she went upstairs to her room to relax for the remainder of the afternoon.
While day brought determination and security, night brought with it countless torments and immense fear. Doubts plagued Lisa's mind as she slid into her bed, her eyes watching every shadow in the immense room. She recalled how Jackson had originally attacked her during the day. She was reminded of the pain he had inflicted, tripping her, throwing her down the stairs, and shoving her against walls. Like the monsters in her closet or under her bed from times of old, Jackson was an ever-present, all-powerful menace, wheezing in the crevices of her mind, breathing murderous threats.
Lisa squeezed her eyes shut tightly, begging for sleep to come and mercifully tear her away from the horrors of night.
Sleep came, but not with the compassion so earnestly desired, for when it arrived, so did dreams of such horrific proportions, that even in sleep, Lisa's trembled and thrashed about as though she was running. Typically, her nightmares had been of Jackson entering her house and chasing her down only to be shot in the chest and caught by the police. Tonight, however, after having received news of his escape, Lisa's nightmares reached their climax.
It was night. Lisa stepped into the parking lot, keys ready in hand, and moved over to her car. Before she could open her door, a hand reached out from under the car and grabbed hold of her ankle. She screamed and kicked, finally breaking loose and running as fast as she could towards the grocery store in the distance. Only minutes before it had seemed so close, but now, it was miles and miles away.
"Help me! Somebody help!" She screamed, her voice echoing eerily in the empty darkness.
Her plight was stopped short when she ran headlong into a body and fell over onto her back. Hands reached down to her, grabbing her by her upper arms and forcing her to her feet. She couldn't see a face, in the blurriness of the vision, but she could feel hot tears coursing down her cheeks.
"Not again!" She begged the shadowed figure. "Don't hurt me!"
"Now why would I want to hurt you?" A voice, raspy and almost inaudible asked. "I bought you that Sea Breeze. What would make you think I want to hurt you?"
"I…I nearly killed you!" Lisa choked as the person's hands grabbed hold of her throat.
"I don't want to hurt you," the voice whispered as a flash of lightning illuminated the sky.
"You…you don't?"
"No," the man said, shaking his head. "I want to kill you. I'll make it nice and fast, because, after all, I always finish the job."
Lisa screamed as another flash of light illuminated the face of her attacker. She saw only two things, both so quickly that she had no time to react. First were those piercing, ice-cold blue eyes. Next was the shimmer of a blade, sharp and deadly, flashing in front of her eyes.
Her screams filled the stormy air, and she flailed and struggled with all the strength vested in her.
"No!" Lisa screamed, sitting up in bed, sweat trickling down her forehead and neck. She looked about her room with panic, and only when she saw that she was completely alone did her adrenaline begin to slowly extinguish. Tears flooded Lisa's eyes, and she began to sob, burying her face in her pillow, fear racking her body.
Jackson had escaped death and detention and he was after her with a vengeance. Even her subconscious tormented her with that inevitable information, and she knew, with utmost terror, that it was only a matter of time before he found her.
