Both hands fisted and pressed against Kaycee’s face. For the first time in her life she fully understood what Tricia meant. Asking for God’s help here, now, was the only thing she had left.
“Please, God, please. Save me and Hannah.”
Mark.
Kaycee pictured his face, heard his voice. “When this is over, I’m taking you out.”
She folded over and sobbed.
Minutes ticked by, long and black. Hot. The well memories swelled. Fresh terror fluttered wings against Kaycee’s chest.
No. No.
She listened. Silence drummed in her ears. Where was Hannah? What was Rodney doing to her? Kaycee held her breath, straining to hear.
She had to get out of here.
Not until she remembered . . .
Could she?
Kaycee blinked at the blackness, willing herself to focus on that night. Losing Belinda. Crying for her bear . . .
The well water shifted — and she saw her mother at the wheel of the van, back ramrod straight.
Yes, yes, come on!
Little Tammy’s eyes drooped with sleep. Her head lolled against the passenger seat . . . and the memory faded.
Kaycee fought to get it back. It wouldn’t come.
Where had they gone that night? Kaycee’s first memory of a specific town wasn’t until she started kindergarten at five and a half. Maybe they wandered like gypsies till then. How terrified she must have been as a four-year-old without a home, with a new name. What her mother must have done to chase the memories from her head.
“She stole that money to get back at me . . .”
“I tried to make a better life for you . . .”
Kaycee shifted her legs — and new fear fibrillated her limbs. She clamped her jaw. In another minute the claustrophobia would come rushing back. This time it would kill her. She focused hard on remembering, but nothing more came. Only a dark hole where her early childhood had been.
Why should Rodney believe she would ever remember where the money was? Even if she could conjure the scene in her mind, after all these years she may not be able to name the place. The man was crazy. As obsessed with the millions as she’d become with her own fears —
A trapdoor opened in Kaycee’s stomach. The walls closed in. New panic surged up her spine. Kaycee shoved to her feet and hurtled herself against a wall. A second time, a third.
Deep in her brain a voice shouted no, no! She had to save Hannah.
Kaycee gulped two deep breaths and kicked what she thought was the door.
“Rodney! Nico! I remember!”
Silence.
“Nico!”
Muffled noise. Footsteps approached. Light filtered in from beneath the door. Kaycee fixed upon it as if she’d never seen such a blessed sight. But now she saw the closet walls, the closed space. Her chest burst open —
A metal sound. The lock clicked and the door flung back. Light bounced into Kaycee’s eyes. She squinted, one hand flinging up.
Rodney looked her up and down with contempt. She could imagine her splotchy face, the wild curls. This man detested her for her fears.
Kaycee pushed hair off her cheeks, chest heaving. She had to get hold of herself. Center.
“Where is it?” he demanded.
Such arrogance on his face. Kaycee swallowed. “Not till I see Hannah.”
Rodney’s jaw flexed. He turned his head slightly toward the door, gaze fixed on Kaycee. “Hey! Come here!”
Timid steps. Hannah edged across the threshold, her face pale and chin tucked in. Kaycee’s heart leapt. “Hannah, you okay?”
The girl’s gaze cut to Rodney as if seeking permission to speak. He broke eye contact with Kaycee and glowered at Hannah. Her head shrank down between her shoulders.
Anger at her victimization exploded in Kaycee. She barreled out of the closet and into Rodney’s chest.
He stumbled backward, arms flailing. His hand caught Kaycee’s wrist. One thing about fear and rage — they knew how to shoot adrenaline. She plowed the man back with all her might. He tripped, floundered sideways, and fell, pulling her down with him.
Hannah screamed. Kaycee heard other screaming — and realized it was her own.
She thrust up on one knee and threw a wild punch at Rodney’s face. His nose crunched. Blood spurted on her hands. He cried out in fury, slapped both hands against her shoulders, and pushed. She tumbled off. Her temple thudded against the floor.
Rodney sprang up, blood running down his mouth, his chin. He hulked around to face her, right hand shoved under his T-shirt for his gun.
Kaycee shook her head hard to clear it. Rodney’s fingers grazed the top of his weapon. She rocked back on her spine, drew up both legs like a spring-load, and shot her heels straight into his left knee. It snapped backward. He yelled and collapsed.
Strength borne of terror pushed Kaycee to her feet. Pain scrunched Rodney’s face, his eyes murderous. He would kill her now, forget the money. Or make her watch while he shot Hannah. For an eternal second she hovered, not knowing what to do. Rodney’s uninjured leg dug against the floor, scuttling him around to face her in a jagged half circle. Both hands fumbled for his weapon. Blood smeared down his cheek, over the wood. The smell rose in Kaycee’s nostrils. Her stomach flipped. In her mind she saw her daddy’s frozen, bullet-holed face, his blood streaked against dark yellow . . .
Panic blossomed in her chest. Kaycee pivoted and fled.
She tore across the room, thinking no, no, get the gun!, knowing she’d be shot if she tried. She raced across the threshold and flat-footed to a stop, head swiveling. Hannah hunched to her right, fingers to her mouth, still as stone. Kaycee grabbed her arm. “Come on!”
They ran for the front door. Kaycee yanked it open and pushed Hannah onto the sagging porch. Weak light spilled from the cabin’s darkened windows. The night stretched beyond, so very dark. She saw the SUV in the driveway.
Were the keys inside?
Uneven, hard footsteps shook the porch floor. Kaycee swiveled. Rodney lurched from the bedroom, purple-faced, gun in hand.
Kaycee slammed the front door.
She caught Hannah’s shoulder and jerked her sideways. A muted crack sounded. A bullet hit the door.
Hannah wailed. Kaycee hauled her toward the side of the porch. They jumped down a foot into dimness and sped for the woods.
FIFTY-THREE
Kaycee and Hannah stumbled through blackness, around thick trees, branches whipping their bodies, their faces. Hannah ran with an awkward gait. “My knees.” Her voice hitched. “I scraped them bad.” The close air tanged with dampness and wood. Kaycee pulled Hannah along, panting, not letting her slow. Run, run, run, her mind shrieked, but the more they ran the greater her fear. Where was Rodney?
On they staggered. Hannah fell twice, Kaycee once. They helped each other up, grunting. Hannah couldn’t stop crying.
How far had they gone? What direction? In her mind Kaycee could see the near ninety-degree turn of Shanty Hill. The long rutted trail they’d driven to the cabin had taken them back toward Highway 29, parallel to Shanty Hill above that hairpin turn. But how far? She and Hannah had leapt off the porch to the side and run straight. But then what? Had they gone in circles?
The trees thinned. They burst out into a small open area. A stingy crescent moon dribbled light. Kaycee whipped her head around, seeking a house, a road. Nothing but more woods.