“We didn’t get a snack,” Luke pointed out.
“I’mstarving,” Johnny said.
“I’m pretty sure not giving us a snack violates child labor laws,” Guinevere added.
Rosamund rolled her eyes. “We do not have a contractual obligation to give you Goldfish.” Then she gestured to Piper with her phone. “Did you text her?”
Piper nodded. “I’ve called and texted. No answer.”
Rosamund walked into the foyer, opened the front door, and stepped onto the front porch. “She’s back. Her car is here.”
“Great.” Piper jogged down the steps and toward the minivan parked in the driveway. “I’ll help her carry everything inside.”
At the back of Kiersten’s vehicle, she pressed the button to open the rear hatch. It rose, revealing an empty car.
Her eyes narrowed. It should have been filled with boxes of granola bars and Goldfish, with pretzels and clementines and apples and grapes.
She frowned and moved to the front of the car, where the driver’s side door stood open.
She poked her head inside.
Kiersten’s purse sat on the passenger seat. But no Kiersten.
Her stomach dropped as she grabbed Kiersten’s purse and dug around inside.
No phone.
No Kiersten.
Bile rose in her throat as she scanned the cul-de-sac.
Everything was quiet at 11:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning. Brendan, Garrett, Miles, and Reggie had gone to Home Depot while she, Rosamund, and Valentina were teaching the kids.
She squinted toward the building site. Thetap, tap, tapof hammers echoed through the neighborhood as men crisscrossed the roof of the soon-to-be-finished home, adding shingles to the first house while a cement truck sat parked in front of the second building site. It looked like they planned to pour the foundation for the second house today.
The sound of an engine tugged her attention toward Chip’s garage a few houses down.
The hackles rose on the back of her neck as the garage door lowered and closed while the engine kept running.
Chapter One Hundred Two
Kiersten
Kiersten stopped the record button on her phone and played the conversation back.
Elation surged through her body as Dickie’s voice filled the room again. Itworked. Then she looked up at the ceiling, and despair displaced this temporary rush of hope.
A recording was useless if no one ever heard it.
Frantically, she pulled the cot over to the corner of the room and did exactly what Dottie had done. Her fingers shook as she stuffed the wool blanket into the end of the hose protruding from the ceiling.
The person on the other end simply hauled the tube up through the hole and removed the blanket.
She had nothing left except her clothes, and there was no point in sacrificing those. Trey and Chip would just pull the tube up again, remove the blockage, and shove it back through.
She may as well remain fully clothed and die with dignity. She sat down on the cot and buried her face in her hands.
This was it.
