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Jonathon.
She knew he was looking for her.
She knew he wouldkeeplooking for her.
Forever.
But he didn’t know the Doll Killers’ names. How would he be able to find where they were hiding out?
It was hopeless.
Completely and utterly hopeless.
She began to cry. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to die like this, alone and scared. She wanted to go home. She wanted her family, and she wanted Jonathon.
Clara was sobbing now. Huge, violent sobs that ripped out of her chest. She was crying so hard she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. Jonathon would never find her in time. Even if he could manage to find the identities of the Doll Killers, and where they were keeping her, she’d be dead before he ever made it here. When Ruth realized she was never going to give them what they wanted, they'd kill her. She’d never go home. She was going to die here. And if she was going to die here, then she may as well just get it over with.
“Clara?”
The voice startled her. She’d thought no one else was here.
“Clara?”
She tried to see through the lake of tears in her eyes. She could just make out a small face, with blue eyes framed by blond hair, before her.
“Are you okay?”
Struggling to rein in her weeping, she hiccupped out a few more sobs, then drew in several deep breaths. She was borderline hyperventilating and totally out of control. She needed to get it together. She had to hold on and keep the faith; Jonathon would never give up on her, so she couldn’t give up on him either.
“Clara? Are you okay?”
The tears in her eyes cleared enough that she could finally see properly. It was Jimmy with Katie right behind him. His face was bruised and bloody, but he was okay. Alive. She had to calm herself, she didn’t want to scare the children more than they already were. “Are you okay?”
“You thought we were dead,” Jimmy muttered.
“I saw Ruth knock you over, you were unconscious, and then when I woke up, I couldn’t see either of you. I was afraid the worst had happened,” she admitted, still battling to get her breathing back to normal. “Jimmy, are you all right?”
“My head hurts,” he admitted. “But I'm okay.”
She searched his eyes to see if he was telling her the truth. There was pain in his eyes, but they looked focused. “Dizzy?”
“No.”
“Nauseous?”
“No.”
“How long were you unconscious?”
Shrugging, he responded, “Not long I think. When I woke up, the lady was burning you over and over again. I was scared, so I just laid there and pretended that I wasn't awake.”
“That was smart, Jimmy.” Not that she’d have expected anything else from the boy. “Katie, you doing okay?”
The little girl was crying again, her cheeks wet and her eyes red and puffy, but she nodded. Katie was holding it together as best as she could.
“All right then, we need to decide what our next move is . . .” Clara broke off as she looked down at her wrists. The duct tape on her right wrist must have been burned by the branding tools because it was black and charred and half-ripped. Her stomach dropped in relief, and her eyes fell closed, her head resting against the back of the chair. This was the break they'd needed. But they had to work quickly. “Jimmy, do you see this?”
His eyes lightened, and he nodded. Producing something from his pocket, he stated, “I found this. She dropped them when I tackled her. She picked them up again, but this one must have come off the chain.”
