State of Emergency

CHAPTER 32


Idaho





Lourdes made it abundantly clear to Marie that the focus of her wrath was baby Simon. Hardly a moment went by that the horrible woman didn’t make a threat or voice some horrific plan as to the particular harm she hoped to do to the helpless child. If Marie wasn’t standing to work the kinks out of her sore back, she kept herself glued to the lumpy mattress, guarding her little boy as he cooed or played or slept. Even when she went to the bathroom she took Simon with her, unwilling to let him out of her sight even for a moment.

By the second day she realized Jorge, the man with the injured leg, was an ally of sorts. Simon was getting restless from being cooped up without fresh stimulation and was beginning to fuss.

They were alone when Jorge limped in from the kitchen and handed Marie a cup of chocolate milk. He wore a dish towel tucked in his belt that was filthy from his dirty hands and constant kitchen duty, but Marie didn’t care.

“Don’t tell Lourdes I’m doing this,” he said. “My sister, Irene, she has a son about this age. Heaven knows they can’t keep quiet this long. It is not the little one’s fault.” He stood and watched as Simon drank the bulk of the chocolate milk, then grinned at him with a frothy brown mustache.

Jorge rubbed the little boy’s head. “Pobrecito,” he whispered, sighing. Poor thing. He leaned in to Marie as if with a secret. “I will tell you thi—”

Footfalls in the hallway made Jorge snatch up the glass and limp back to the kitchen.

Pete came slouching into the room with his hat on crooked and flopped down in the recliner with his cell phone. Lourdes followed, sliding along on the tile floor in stocking feet as if she was actually happy about something. She held an open laptop in her hand.

Marie’s heart jumped at the sight of the computer. She lived for the few moments each day that she could talk to Matt, see his face, and know that he was still alive. The cruel woman hardly let them speak for more than a few seconds, but those were the best seconds in Marie’s day. As long as Matt was alive, there was hope—she clung to that single thought more than any other, whispering it to herself as she drifted in and out of her fitful sleeps.

She pulled herself up straighter in anticipation of seeing her husband. Instead, Lourdes walked right up on the mattress beside her, shoving the baby aside with a rough nudge of her foot. Marie recoiled, pulling Simon into her lap as the awful woman flopped down beside them.

“I found a few news articles for us to read together,” Lourdes said. “I think you might find them interesting.”

Marie clutched the baby to her chest, reading over the top of his head.

RANSOM PAID. COUPLE FOUND MURDERED IN CALIFORNIA CABIN ANYWAY, the headline read.

Lourdes tapped the screen with her finger. “This couple, they have a lot in common with you,” she sneered. “Held captive for a week in the woods. . . .” Her voice trailed as she looked over at Marie. She smiled an overly sweet smile that had no kindness in it. “They must have held out hope, don’t you think?”

“Stop it!” Marie begged, covering Simon’s ears though there was no way he was old enough to understand.

Pete smirked behind the game on his cell phone. Jorge stood stoically at the kitchen door.

Lourdes pressed closer, her head almost on Marie’s shoulder. “Everyone has hope,” she said. “Just like you. These people sat alone in that cabin and hoped that someone would come and rescue them—as you, no doubt, hope someone will come and rescue you.”

“I said stop it!” Marie screamed. She struggled to catch her breath. “Stop talking to me.”

Lourdes pressed on. “Certainly they made absurd demands, just as you do now.” She snapped her fingers, causing Marie to jump, startling the baby and making him wail as if he’d been pinched. “Quiet the worm,” she spat, getting to her feet. “Anyway, I thought you’d like to see this. Very soon you will have much, much more in common.” She turned to glare at Jorge, who still watched from the kitchen door. “No matter who brings you chocolate milk. Now, shall we call your sniveling husband and let him know you are still alive . . . for the moment?”