Page 304 of Taken Away

Small.

Childlike.

She dropped the pillow.

“Mabel?”

Nothing.

Anne pulled off the mask.

Touched her sister's face.

“Mabel.”

She shook her.

Then harder.

“Oh God.”

Downstairs, Moose threw himself against the mudroom door.

Anne stumbled backward.

Wood cracked.

She ran.

Down the stairs.

Through the cellar.

Into the storm.

Across the vineyard.

She did not remember reaching the car.

But she remembered her hands on the steering wheel.

The same hands Mabel had reached for.

Anne opened her eyes.

Concrete. Fluorescent light.

Her cell.

She pressed both hands against her face.

For thirty years, Anne had told herself Mabel Blackwood had taken everything from her.

Harold.

Blackwood.

The life Anne should have had.