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Carly responded with a snort and the trio let themselves out. At the door, Mayflower glanced back at Barbara and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Barbara just nodded. It wasn’t up to her to tell Mayflower’s parents about her secret rendezvous and, as far as she could see, it wasn’t relevant to the case. Although, right now, she wasn’t entirely sure what was relevant to the case anymore. Each new piece of information brought more questions.
There were only two things she felt sure of: Dr. Dalton’s death wasn’t a suicide. And he wasn’t working alone. Someone had wanted to get in here and remove the evidence. Someone who didn’t care if they murdered a cop in the process.
But was the same individual responsible for the murders of both Marcus and Dalton?
Or was there more than one killer in Deadhart?
This morning, he had told her. It would happen this morning. The girl needed to be ready. Without a watch or a clock, she had no real idea of time, but he had told her to count, as best she could, the minutes and hours.
Now, she heard voices outside the low basement window. She strained against the extent of the chain.
“So, you want me to leave these bricks and cement right here?”
“Thank you. I have to say you’re more helpful than the usual driver they send from the hardware store. Nice and early, too.”
“Well, I can’t let you go lugging heavy building supplies around by yourself.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Are you sure you don’t need someone to do this work for you? Don’t seem like something a young lady like yourself should be doing.”
The girl had frowned. Young lady. Her Captor was old. Why was he lying?
“Thank you for your offer, but I’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” A pause. “Could I ask one favor?”
“What?”
“Could I use your bathroom? I got a load more deliveries to make and, well, I forgot to go before I left.”
A hesitation. Her Captor was suspicious of people. They rarely had visitors. They were isolated and self-sufficient, and it was, of course, all for her own good.
She heard her Captor reply: “Of course. It’s the least I could do.”
“Thank you.”
The voices faded. Going back around to the front of the house. This was where it would happen. Where the plan would succeed or fail.
“We’re not going to hurt them,” her Rescuer had told her. “We don’t want to be hunted for murder. We just need to get the keys and get you out.”
She had wondered at which point they would “make them pay” but didn’t ask. Right now, she had to trust her Rescuer. He was her only chance of escape.
She sat on the bed. She realized she was holding her breath. She could hear floorboards creaking overhead, but the voices were too far away to make out. And then she heard a more distinctive sound: a scream. And a heavy thud. She tensed. More movement upstairs. Different from her Captor, lighter, faster. Then, finally, the sound of a key in a lock. The door to the basement opened with a familiar creak. Footsteps down the stairs.
She tensed. A figure rounded the corner.
For the first time in all these years, she looked upon a face other than her Captor’s.
44
Snow had coated the town in a heavy drape of white. The Christmas lights glowed from within shrouds of ice and cars parked along the street had been reduced to white humps in the drifts. A few trucks and SUVs were managing to plow through the snow, but it was still falling heavily.
Barbara moved from the window and sat down at her desk.
“Guess Jess is right. The cavalry isn’t going to be rolling in anytime soon.”
