SHAKE sat on the edge of her bed, gnawing her thumbnail. She had a decision to make and she knew she didn’t have a whole lot of time. Ronnie and his crazy mother were acting more and more strangely. Lunatics was the word that kept rolling around in her brain. Ever since they’d come home with that baby last Saturday, they’d both been tiptoeing around on eggshells. And anytime she asked a question about the kid, Ronnie’s face took on this dumb, guilty look. She knew Ronnie wasn’t a bad guy, certainly not the worst she’d known. But being under his mother’s thumb . . . well, anything could happen.
And maybe it already had.
Shake still wondered where the two of them had lit out to on Tuesday night. Going to the Family Resource Center? No, she’d didn’t think so. Besides, they’d fumbled around for a long time, with Ronnie getting all dressed up like some kind of damn commando in a Dwayne Johnson movie. And though she hadn’t actually seen Ronnie with any sort of weapon, she’d had a feeling that he might have been sneaking out of the house with one of his knives.
Sneaking out of the house.
Like she was planning to do right now.
Shake folded a pair of jeans, tossed it on top of her meager stash of underwear, and stuffed it all in her purple nylon gym bag, what had once been her dancer’s bag. Two sweatshirts followed, as well as her makeup case, hairbrush, and a box of panty liners. There. What else? Nothing else. She didn’t own much. Well, that was all going to change. As soon as she had this baby, she was going to head south, maybe to Florida or someplace warm like that. She’d once heard one of the other dancers talk about how there were lots of gentlemen’s clubs down in Florida. And they were frequented by rich older men who were willing to lay a ten spot on the runway so they could watch a cute girl work it and twerk it.
She zipped her bag closed and looked around the bedroom. The closet door was standing open and she saw Ronnie’s Green Bay Packers jacket hanging there. She hesitated for a moment and then grabbed it. Felt absolutely justified in doing so. After all, she was trying to stay warm for two.
Tiptoeing out to the second-floor landing, Shake could hear the TV blaring downstairs. Marjorie was eating a tuna fish sandwich and watching The Bold and the Beautiful, her favorite soap opera. Ronnie was down in the basement, mixing up a batch of chemicals so he could tan a couple of deer hides.
Shake unzipped her boots and slipped out of them. Better to carry them downstairs and put them on once she was outside. If she made it outside. She was filled with trepidation and mumbling a prayer now, unconsciously reverting to the little bit of religion she’d been taught as a child.
Forgive us our trespasses . . .
Two of the steps creaked as she slowly eased her way downstairs. That made her hesitate for a few terrifying moments.
Deliver us from evil . . .
In her mind’s eye, Shake imagined Marjorie popping out at her like some kind of menacing funhouse ghoul. But her luck held and it never happened.
For Thine is the Kingdom and the power . . .
In the kitchen, Marjorie’s car keys sat bunched on the counter. Shake made a hasty sign of the cross as she snatched up the keys, hoping that Ronnie had replaced the battery in his mom’s car. She thought he had, since he’d been out there early this morning, fiddling with things.
The baby was gurgling away in a playpen near the stove. Shake thought about grabbing the little baby and taking her along. But no, that wouldn’t work. It wasn’t part of her plan. Breathless now, her heart hammering inside her chest, she kissed the little baby on the top of her head and stepped outside.
The raw wind sliced at her, taking her breath away as she hesitated on the side porch. Still, Shake knew she had to keep her eyes on the prize—her ultimate freedom! She stuffed her feet into her boots, zipped them up, and waddled toward the car.
Marjorie was a skinny little witch, so the front seat was jacked all the way forward, almost to the steering wheel. With her big belly, Shake had to partially squash her way in and then slide the seat back. She fumbled with the keys, missed the ignition slot, then jammed in the key and turned over the engine.
The car roared to life immediately. Thank God!
Desperation rising like bile in her throat, Shake threw the car in Reverse, gunned the motor hard, and promptly flew back into a snowdrift.
No!
She fumbled the car into Drive and hit the gas again, a little too hard. Now the wheels spun frantically. Damn, what was wrong with this car? She cranked the steering wheel hard to the right. Nothing, there was no purchase at all. She was stuck in an icy rut on practically bald tires!