*
ASHLEY Copeland stared silently around the empty house. It was blessedly quiet now that the Dardens had finally taken off. Mrs. Darden had yammered on with all sorts of picky instructions, while Mr. Darden just plain gave her the creeps. But he was her mom’s boss, so she was careful not to kick him between the legs every time he leered at her.
This was Ashley’s second babysitting gig this week, and she was desperate for cash. Winter Prom was right around the corner, and her dipshit boyfriend still hadn’t saved enough money to spring for the kind of limousine and hotel room she’d always dreamed of. Then there was the matter of her dress. She intended to absolutely crush it in a hot pink strapless number that would put all the cool girls to shame.
At least this gig seemed like a no-brainer. The Dardens’ baby was asleep upstairs and, according to Mrs. Darden, would probably remain asleep. So it would be a relaxing night of watching cable TV and doing some FaceTime on her iPad with her friends, Trish and Bella. It could be the easiest forty bucks she’d ever earned—as long as the privileged little brat stayed asleep.
Ashley walked through the dining room, trailing one hand on a high-gloss table. The furnace rumbled beneath parquet floors, and a few flakes of snow had started to tick-tick against the windows. She’d never been in a house this big before. What was really obscene was that only two people lived here. Well, actually three, but the baby didn’t really count.
Flopping down on a bouncy leather sofa, Ashley pulled out her iPad and logged in as GoldyLox131. She tried to FaceTime several of her friends but no one answered. Bummer. She pursed her lips, blew out a glut of air, and looked around, already feeling bored.
But she wouldn’t be for long. In the familiar children’s story, Goldilocks has a very harrowing encounter with a group of marauding bears. For GoldyLox131, two wolves already lurked outside the front door.
*
THE kidnapping of Baby Darden was your basic piece of cake. Ronnie walked up to the front door, a battered Pizza Hut box balanced in his left hand, and rang the doorbell. Marjorie hung back in the shadows, watchful and listening. A few seconds later, a chime rang out deep inside the enormous house. Bing, bang, bong. Just like church.
Not thirty seconds later the babysitter opened the front door. Ronnie’s first impression was of a skinny blond teenager with a tentative smile and a thin band of blue braces stretched across her upper teeth. Puzzlement flickered in her eyes when she spotted the pizza box. Then she gave a disdainful snort and said, “Nobody here ordered—”
Ronnie didn’t waste a single precious moment. He straight-armed the girl in the face with his right arm, shattering her nose on impact, and sending her sprawling backward onto the Oriental carpet.
Terrified, screeching like a scalded cat, blood flowing copiously from her busted nose, the babysitter struggled to right herself. “Eee . . . pyuh!” she babbled as her feet paddled helplessly on the rug, unable to gain traction.
Ronnie was on top of her like a rabid pit bull. “Shut up!” he snarled as Marjorie slipped in behind him and kicked the door shut in one fluid motion.
“Stuff them socks in her mouth,” Marjorie ordered. “Then blindfold her and snare your rope around her neck.”
“I know what to do,” Ronnie cried. He was caught up in the moment now, feeling totally enraptured. His blood was pulsing hotter, his synapses were firing more crisply than ever before. Struggling with this little piece of quiff was really turning his crank.
Scared out of her mind, Ashley begged and pleaded with him as she blew gluts of snot and bubbles of blood out of her shattered nose.
Ronnie grinned at her and hooked a thumb into the waistband of her jeans. He felt the button pop, the zipper start to go down. A narrow piece of hot pink silk, the girl’s thong, stretched across her flat belly.
“Jesus Christ,” Marjorie said. She was a little surprised by the violence of his attack. “Don’t kill her. And don’t do . . . that.”