A/N: Sorry for the long wait again!
Erik thought himself a logical man. A logical man would know that no matter how much pressure they put on a brake, it wouldn't work if the brake was malfunctioning. Alas, in the midst of danger, Erik continued to try and slow the car. The tires squealed as he took the sharp turn, wide and at full speed. Christine grabbed for the O.S. bar, keeping herself as steady in the seat as possible.
He drove around a parking lot until he coasted to a stop, then threw the emergency brake on, and slid the car into park.
"Are you okay?" Erik cradled her cheek in his big hand. She nodded, her mouth agape. Trying to recall a number for a 24-hour towing company, Erik stepped out of the SUV, popping the hood. A moment later he was reaching across Christine, rifling through his glove box. He flicked it on, checking the batteries, and continued his conversation with Ricky, the tow truck man.
With a loud thud the lid slammed down, and Erik had his fingers pressed against his forehead, with his phone still at his ear. He shook his head, and walked back to the driver's side door.
"They'll be here in 10 minutes." Erik said calmly. Grease or oil, or something, she wasn't sure what, was on his hands, and a bit on his new mask.
"What's the matter?" She asked turning toward him.
"It seems the brake lines were cut, at least to my eye. They may have just worn down or something." Although the vehicle was practically brand new.
"Cut? As in intentionally cut?" She paled.
"It looks that way to me. But cars aren't my expertise. Could be neglect on my part. We'll know more when a mechanic looks at it."
"Who would do something like that?" Erik thought back to that cryptic letter, but shook his head. That must have been a prank. But this…he truly was baffled.
"I have no idea. What truly amazes me is that the release for the hood is inside. They couldn't have gotten to it without opening the doors first." The thought of the person who may have killed them, sitting where he was, made his skin crawl.
A half hour later, Ricky passed the same judgment as Erik. The problem with the brakes was not wear and tear on the car. That confirmation made Erik sick. He was sure he didn't really know anyone that hated him enough to kill him. Or harm him.
A new thought chilled him. Maybe they were trying to kill Christine. But who could hate her. He pushed that thought aside. It must be him they're after. Perhaps he should question Christine about any former homicidal boyfriends.
Ricky suggested filing a police report. Erik would, of course, as his nearly perfect life could have been ended prematurely, but, being that neither he nor Christine had been killed, or even injured, only shaken-up, he doubted the police would even look at his problem.
When they finally got back to Erik's apartment, they made love with the urgency that comes with a near-death experience. Erik held Christine protectively that night, covering her body with his. He knew now he would be forever watching his back, and Christine's for that matter. No one was going to ruin what they'd made together. No one.
The cold of winter finally came. Erik was grateful that his crew had gotten the structure of the house built before snow started falling. Electricians and plumbers had replaced carpenters and construction teams. Everything was going smoothly. It had been nearly a month since the Halloween incident, and Erik was beginning to relax again. Christine usually had long days of practice on the weekend, so he could go check the progress on his home.
Stairs had been constructed, and he could see the basic structure of all the rooms. It was beginning to take the shape of a house. He ventured up the stairs to the area he'd designed for a music room. Once he had a little money set aside again, he would buy a new piano. Maybe he could persuade the school into giving him that organ for a good price. Most of the staff probably didn't even know it was there anyways.
In every room he envisioned, he also envisioned Christine there with him. In the kitchen at a breakfast nook, in the living room on the sofa, in the bedroom lying next to him, or in the music room at the piano bench with him. The small velvet box hung heavily in his jacket pocket.
Nerves fluttered in his stomach when he even thought about asking her to marry him. It had only been a little over three months since they met. He wanted the house to be finished before he asked. Once he settled on a price for his masterpiece with the man who actually did want to buy it. Any excuse he could make for not having enough courage to ask her. He feared rejection. He wanted everything to be perfect.
His fingers closed around the box just as flames jumped out from the wall. He looked at them in astonishment. A horrible scream had him running down the stairs. The electrician lay convulsing on the floor as flames licked at the frame of his house.
Erik acted instinctively, pulling the man outside of the burning house. Soon chunks of charred wood started falling from the roof as the fire hungrily devoured the wood. Panting, Erik watched what little of his house there was, burn to the ground