Chapter 31
Draw up the offer. I can be there by—”
Emily smashed the brake pedal. The hand that held the phone jutted out to stop a plastic bin sailing across the others jammed into the back. As the light turned red, the van stopped, partway into the intersection. Thankfully, there were no other cars on the road this time of night. “Sorry,” she apologized to the Realtor’s voice mail. “I can be there when you open.”
She closed the phone and it rang in her hand. “Hello.”
“Miss Foster. Mike Ross with Southwest Realty. So glad you called.” The man seemed to gulp on the last word as if salivating over the sale.
“I had no intention of waking you, Mr. Ross. I thought I’d called the office number, not your cell.”
“One and the same, and no worries. Realtors never sleep. I’m on the job at two a.m. the same as two p.m.” He laughed. She didn’t join him. “Do you want to meet at the house? I imagine you’d like to see it before we finalize the offer.”
She’d look like an idiot if she said no. “That will be fine.”
“At the house at nine, then.”
“Yes. See you then.” Pulling into a gas station, she programmed her GPS for the next place she wouldn’t call home.
A person could get lost in St. Louis, blend in with the crowd. No one would notice the house in the middle of the block was no longer for sale. No one would care.
Useful. Why hadn’t that triggered an alarm? “You are definitely useful.” She quoted Jake to the clear plastic bin on the seat beside her. A construction paper quilt block stared back at her. Tumbling blocks pattern. A symbol meaning it was time to pack up and go.
Adam fingered the key in his pocket. He’d taken it off the ring so it wouldn’t jangle. He waited while Lexi hid her bike next to his in the brush. The air was warm, but he couldn’t stop shivering. Thin cirrus clouds slid across the waxing moon. It was too bright out.
The house was dark. No light from the TV, thank God. The beer should help, unless it made Ben have to go the bathroom. Why hadn’t he thought of that? He should have found a way to slip him sleeping pills. He wiped his damp hands along his pants. His pockets were bulging, already stashed full for whatever they might need tomorrow. They’d both brought their backpacks, just in case. His GPS was still programmed for Fredericktown, Missouri. If Ben heard them, they might have to start running now.
He’d told Lexi to stay home, but she was acting like a mom again, all scared of him going alone. He didn’t want her here. By himself he could slip in and out walking silent like an Indian. If Ben even snored too loud, Lexi would probably scream. At least he’d talked her out of bringing the cat. When they left for real in a few hours, there’d be no talking her out of it. “Leave your pack here,” he whispered.
“Not if you’re bringing yours.”
Adam sighed hard enough to hit her in the face with his breath. “Fine. But leave it by the back door. You’ll make too much noise. I might need stuff from mine.” A rope, for instance, to lower out of an upstairs window. Or tie up Ben.
They walked in the grass along the driveway. Ben’s room was on the opposite side. When they reached the back door, Adam pointed to Lexi’s pack. She stuck her tongue out at him but took it off. He slid the key in the lock then stretched his shirt sleeve and wrapped it around the handle to absorb the sound. It muffled the click, but the noise still made his heart skip a beat.
Blinds swung on the other side of the door as he eased it open. He signaled to Lexi not to close it. The floor sqeaked under their shoes as they padded slowly across the kitchen. The room smelled of old pizza and old beer. Lexi was hoping the beer was poison. It smelled like it.
The carpet in the dining room silenced their steps. Adam held his hands out to avoid bumping anything. As his little finger grazed a chair, he heard a sickeningly familiar noise, not where he’d hoped it would be. Ben was sleeping on the couch.
Lexi let out an almost but not quite silent gasp. He shot her a shut-up look and tiptoed to the stairway. The upstairs nightlight glowed enough to show dim outlines. The steps groaned like an old man in pain. Adam stopped after each one and held up his hand, listening for Ben’s snore, all the while planning how they’d escape if Ben woke up. At the slightest sound, he’d find something to tie the rope around near a window.
He handed her his penlight and stood back and let her go in first so he could guard the hallway. Moving in slow motion, he reached in his backpack for his hammer. All he’d have to do was swing it and Ben would back off.
Lexi opened the closet door. Adam shot a thumbs-up sign into the room. She did good. That was the part he’d been most worried about. She didn’t turn the light on until she was halfway into the walk-in closet. Smart girl. She’d listened to his instructions after all. He heard the dresser drawer jerk open. Not far enough, he could tell by the sound. He waited, tiptoed to the stairwell. Snores still rumbled.
“Adam!” Lexi’s whisper was way too loud. He ran into the room. She pointed the light at the drawer, open about three inches. Not wide enough for the box. “Stuck,” she mouthed.
He bent close to her ear. “Can you reach the box and open it?”
She shook her head. “I tried.”
Adam pushed her away, got down on his knees. Clothes hung around his face. He’d never been claustrophobic before. He motioned for Lexi to close the closet door. His pulse pounded in his ears. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed both handles and tugged.
The drawer moved with a wrenching sound, slamming Adam onto his backside. He smashed into Lexi, who hit the closet door with a thud. The entire front of the drawer landed on Adam’s legs. “Go listen.” He forced a whisper. His throat felt like it was closing. “See if he’s still sleeping.”
Lexi, wide-eyed, shook her head. “I can’t.”
Adam looked inside the drawer and saw the box. He heard the end pop off Lexi’s inhaler. The spray, and her deep breath, seemed magnified in the small space.
“Then get out of the way.” He shoved the drawer front at her and grabbed the flashlight. He stood, but as he reached for the door, it swung open.
Lexi screamed and pointed the flashlight in Ben’s face. Adam glared at the man whose arm shielded his face, whipped around, and jabbed his hand into the box, pulling out a wad of cash and stuffing it in his shirt. His hand crept across the floor until he felt his hammer. In one fluid motion, he slammed the hammer on Ben’s bare foot, grabbed Lexi’s arm, and shot past the cussing hulk. He ran halfway into the room. Lexi didn’t. As he reeled around to see Ben’s fat hand on Lexi’s arm, his GPS flew out of his backpack.
Ben laughed. Deep and wicked. “Going somewhere?”
Victory Drive. How ironic.
Emily stared at the blond cupboards, harvest gold appliances, and white Formica countertop. “Cheery,” the Realtor called it as he inched the pen closer.
“It has potential.” Unlike my life. After twenty-four hours without sleep, twelve of them spent ranting and driving too fast, she’d developed a twisted sense of humor about her serial gullibility. As she reached for the pen, she noticed Mr. Ross’s watch. Just like Adam’s. Her heart squeezed. Adam would be crushed when he found out she’d left. This would be just one more loss in his life. The trial would begin in less than an hour. Oh, God, don’t let Ben get those kids. Maybe she should have stayed, played the part just for them. She hadn’t stopped to think.
“Miss Foster? Any questions?”
“No. No.” She signed her name, slid the papers across the table, and stood.
“I have a good feeling about this. We’ve got motivated sellers, and I think before you know it you’ll call this place home.”
Not a chance.
She had one hand on the door handle of her van when her phone buzzed. She pulled it out, afraid to look at the screen.
Jake. Wondering where she was. He’d be there to pick her up for the hearing. He’d be wandering through a more-empty-than-usual house, wondering why she’d left. She pushed the button to make it stop vibrating.
She backed onto the street, took one more look at the tan house with white trim, and tried to feel something. Satisfaction, hope, anything. Nothing surfaced.
“In two-tenths of a mile, turn left.”
She was going to Fredericktown. In the past few exhausted hours, the need to find out what happened to Hannah became demanding. With no answers for her own life, she could live vicariously through someone else’s.
An hour later, a she passed a sign for Bonne Terre/Farmington, her phone rang again. “Sorry, Jake.” She mashed the button again and threw the phone back on the passenger seat. Seconds later it buzzed again. An envelope showed in the window. A text message she would look at. If, by some remote chance, he was calling to apologize, to grovel maybe, it might lift a smidgeon of her mood. Or make it worse. She’d look at it when she got to a stop sign. Not before.
Two miles down the road, it vibrated again. Another call. “Sorry. All done being useful.”
Her pulse picked up speed at a STOP AHEAD sign. Slowing the van, she pulled to the shoulder. No sense being in the middle of the road if she was going to have a breakdown. Or break something. She held her breath and opened her phone.
ARE KIDS WITH YOU? MOM’S FRANTIC.
ANSWER. PLEASE.