Laugher echoed.
Tess turned toward it, likely spotting the police officer.
Bitsy stood up, said a quick thank-you to Andrew that left him with a puzzled look, and started walking away, feet taking her down the hallway that the kids were playing in, their game of tag having resumed with one of the boys being the tagger.
“Hey,” Tess called. “Wait!”
Bitsy ignored her and hurried around the corner, nearly crashing into a kid that came around from the other side.
“Bitsy!” another voice called, this one Andrew.
Bitsy ran.
She had no idea where she was going, but knew she had to put distance between her and those near the bench. And find a door. That was the most important thing. She needed a door that would lead outside and then needed to hurry away so that she could resume her search for the old graveyard she had wandered through. Once she found that, she would be able to find Misty.
If they are still by the van.
Pushing the fear away, she continued to run, rounding one corner after another, always expecting to see a set of doors to the outside, but only discovering more hallways. It was like a maze, one designed to keep kids within so they couldn’t sneak out while they were supposed to be in school.
“Bitsy!” a voice echoed.
It sounded like the girl.
Tess.
Bitsy didn’t like her.
Or Ramsey.
They were the reason she was in this mess.
If they had just helped her like she had asked when first finding them, then none of this would have happened. It was their fault.
Up ahead, another corner loomed.
Please!
She rounded it.
A set of doorways was at the end.
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
She pushed through them and emerged onto a side of the school that was free of people, one that looked out at some sort of sport field. Beyond it were trees and what could have been houses.
Though somewhat fragile, a truce was eventually established while the three sat on Liz’s cot, Lindsey explaining that they had actually tried to drive down to Liz’s place to help her look for her cat, but every road they had turned on had been blocked with debris.
“Then how did the bus get through?” Liz had demanded during the initial peace talks, her stuffed animal squeezed within her crossed arms.
This led to a discussion on how crews were slowly but surely opening up the roads, and while Liz had stayed skeptical of the effort the two had made, she eventually cracked and decided that staying mad was pointless, a whispered offer of heading back to Lindsey’s place so that they could indulge in some of the grass stash that Gloria had hidden in her locker helping to cement things.
“Seriously?” Lindsey asked as Gloria pulled a battered Teavana tea tin from the top shelf.
“What?” Gloria asked, fingers fishing out a baggie that was hidden beneath the loose tea leaves. “This works.”
“Yeah, but last time it ruined it.”
“Last time it was Earl Grey. This time it’s…” Gloria’s face went blank “Fuck, I don’t even know. Something that my mom raves about but tastes like yesterday’s glass clippings.”
“Yesterday’s grass clippings,” Lindsey repeated. “I’m totally reassured.”
“Hey, I don’t see you producing anything from your locker.”
“She has a point,” Liz said.
“Okay, okay,” Lindsey said, hands up in surrender.
Dope secured, they left the school, heading out through a side entrance near their locker area.
“Shit, another one,” Gloria said as a bus turned into the school.
No one added anything, a somber silence settling in as the bus passed and they began heading toward Lindsey’s house.
“By the way, you won’t believe what is sitting in the middle of Lindsey’s front yard,” Gloria said a few minutes later.
“What is it?” Liz asked.
“Just wait. It’s hilarious.”
“It’s not,” Lindsey said.
“Oh it is, trust me.”
Lindsey shook her head.
“What is it?” Liz asked again.
“You’ll see.”
Lindsey thought about spoiling the surprise, but then realized if it did get a chuckle from Liz, then it would be worth waiting. Anything that put a smile on their friend’s face was welcome at this point.
Another few minutes passed, the three simply walking, feet occasionally having to step around obstacles that were on the sidewalk. Some people had started the cleanup process of their yards, others hadn’t, but now that it was dark, everyone seemed to have headed in for the night, candles and flashlights illuminating some windows, others looking dark and empty.
“You know, once we get some candles lit, we could pull out the Ouija board,” Gloria said.
“No way in hell,” Lindsey said.
“Come on, what else are we going to do once we’re finished with”—she tapped the baggie in her pocket. “It’s not like we have many options.”
“I don’t know, with the power out and so many people having died…” Lindsey shook her head.
“Lindsey’s right,” Liz said.
“Fine, forget I suggested it,” Gloria said, voice a bit defensive.
No one replied to that, the three eventually rounding the corner that put them onto Lindsey’s street.
“You know what sucks?” Liz said.
“What?”
“Of the three of us, my house was the only one that had a generator.”
“Shit, you’re right,” Gloria said. “Didn’t your dad get it last year, after that blizzard?”
“Yeah, well, two years ago. Remember. It was so fucking cold that we actually had to sit by the fireplace all day and all night until the power finally came back on. After that, he was like ‘never again’ and got the generator.”
“Ever use it?”
“Nope. And that’s the worst part of all—is that a fucking toilet?”
“Yeah!” Gloria said with a laugh.
“That’s hilarious.”
“I know, right.”
“I’m taking a picture of it,” Liz said.
“Why?” Lindsey asked.
“I don’t know, but it’s funny.”
Lindsey rolled her eyes.
Gloria took some pictures too.
“Now we have to think of something to say about it so we can post it,” Liz said.
“Yeah,” Gloria agreed. “Oh! We should hang up a roll of toilet paper next to it.”
“Come on,” Lindsey said. “That’s gross.”
“Or a sign that says to bring your own.”
“Ha!”
Lindsey shook her head and said, “Let’s go inside.”
“What if your dad walks in?” Liz asked.
Lindsey halted, thoughts on him and the fact that he hadn’t contacted her at all since that afternoon and wouldn’t answer his phone returning to the forefront of her mind.
“What?” Liz asked, sensing something.
“She’s worried about her dad,” Gloria said.
“Oh, what happened?”
“It’s nothing,” Lindsey said, having heard enough of the “he’s probably just busy” statements for one night. No one seemed to agree with her that his lack of contact was something to be alarmed about, and she was tired of trying to convince everyone differently. “Let’s go.”
Bitsy heard a rustle in the brush beyond the chain link fence as she made her way alongside it, and then a menacing growl that chilled her to the core.
She paused to peer into the darkness.
The rustling stopped.
She took a deep breath and sighed, the run from the school and through the backyards having taken a toll. She was exhausted. But she couldn’t stop. She needed to keep moving. First to return the jacket so that Andrew’s daddy didn’t kill him, and then . . .
She had no idea.
Misty and the Daddy-man could be anywhere.
It was hopeless.
No.
If she could find the cemetery, she could find them. And once she did that, all would be well.
Would it really?
She pushed the doubt from her mind and continued through the backyard, her goal being to reach the toilet Andrew had pointed out to her so that she could leave the jacket on it for him.
Will he see it?
It was on the way to his house, so she was sure he would. Hoped he would. If not . . .
No. No. No.
She could not focus on that, her own situation far too desperate.
She needed to get to the toilet and then find the cemetery before Misty and the Daddy-man left.
The clock was ticking.
One more yard.
She started through it, a burst of laugher forcing her to take cover.
Confused, she looked around, but didn’t see anyone.
More laugher.
And then voices.
It was all coming from within the house.
Moving carefully, she crept up alongside it and started walking toward the front, her mind fairly certain that this was the house with the toilet in the yard.
The sounds of a vehicle halted her, body taking cover in the bushes.
More laughter and voices.
She waited.
The vehicle drew nearer.
It was moving slowly.
And then it passed by.
It was not a police car.
Relief arrived.
She took a deep breath.
“Hey!” a voice cried.
Bitsy twisted to the right, the voice having come from the house next door.
A young man had stepped out onto the front porch, his body angled in a way that it could look at her between the houses. “What are you doing?” he demanded.
Without a word, Bitsy turned and ran.
“Hey! Stop!”
“You hear that?” Liz asked, fingers passing the half-finished joint to Lindsey.
“Someone’s shouting.” Gloria said, blinking.
Lindsey took a hit and passed it back to Liz, who then handed it to Gloria, who took her own hit.
“I thought I heard a scream,” Liz said.
“I didn’t.”
“There it was again!”
They all went quiet for a moment, eyes turned toward the open porch door, which Lindsey hoped would help in eliminating the odor from the joint, an incense stick and scented candle also working toward that end.
Barking erupted, followed by another shout from someone and then a high-pitched scream.
“Shit, that’s Cujo,” Lindsey said, standing, knee knocking the coffee table, nearly toppling the incense stick from its slot.
“Jesus!”
Another scream.
“He’s got someone!” Liz cried.
“Come on!” Lindsey urged and headed toward the door.
“Whoa,” Gloria said, still on the couch. “What? Hey.”
Lindsey stumbled out onto the back porch, her foot catching the lip of the sliding door, and then turned to the right toward Cujo’s backyard.
The screams had stopped.
And the barking had been replaced by a low, menacing growl as Cujo paced back and forth, body nothing but a shadow beyond the fence.
Two figures were struggling.
“Hey—” Lindsey started, wishing she had grabbed a flashlight.
“They’re fighting,” Liz said.
“I got’em,” a voice said.
“Dennis!” Lindsey snapped. “What’re you doing?”
“Call the police,” Dennis said.
“Dennis, it’s just a kid,” Lindsey said.
“What the fuck is going on!” a new voice demanded, flashlight illuminating them.
Lindsey shielded her eyes.
“Knock it off or I’ll sick the dog on you.”
“Fuck you!” Lindsey shouted. “You release that mutt and I’ll blow his fucking head off.”
The flashlight went away.
“Dennis, let her go,” Lindsey said.
Dennis sighed and complied.
“Come on, it’s okay,” Lindsey said, holding out her hand.
The girl simply stared at it.
“She was casing your place—”
“Dennis, for the love of God, shut the fuck up,” Lindsey said. “No one is casing or looting anything.” She turned back to the girl. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Liz put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and said, “It’s okay, we’re here to help.”
The girl looked between them, nodded, and took Lindsey’s hand.
The three started back.
Dennis stayed where he was.
Gloria was waiting for them in the doorway on the back porch.
“Whoa, who’s this?” she asked.
“Um…” Lindsey looked down at the girl.
“Bitsy,” the girl said, voice soft. “My name is Bitsy.”
Eight
“The basement was a dungeon,” Tina Powell said. “And we’re not talking a fun Fifty Shades of Grey one. More like Silence of the Lambs.”
“Jesus,” Katie said, unsure what else to say. Given her position as a simple patrol officer with a department that didn’t even have an investigative unit, she was stepping outside of her role big time and feared what might result if the detective on the other end realized this.
“And with the North Carolina connection, this thing is blowing up fast.”
“Sounds like it,” Katie said. She could hear voices in the background. Lots of them. For all she knew, the scene contained more personnel than the entire police population of Smallwood. “FBI there yet?”
“Yeah, they have two agents here. As does the state and county and college.”
“College?”
“The man that owned this house was a professor at the university.”
“Oh God!”
“Tell me about it. I have a daughter that will be going to college in two years. Now I’m going to be wondering about every professor that could cross her path, as well as all the other potential threats one would expect at a university.” Tina let out a laugh. “Anyway, you said you think you found the van?”
“Um, maybe.” She eased the phone from her ear a bit, her hand having had it pressed tightly against it for some reason, which was now starting to hurt. “Honestly, we’re not sure what we have. As you may have heard, our area was hit by several tornadoes. Afterward, a girl was found wandering about in a daze by two storm chasers. She had suffered a minor head injury and had evidence of her wrists having been restrained. She wasn’t very forthcoming with information and wouldn’t let us look at her body beyond her head, but I was able to learn that she had been in a van that was flipped by the storm and crawled out. She also said that one of the occupants of the van was a young woman named Misty.” She hesitated a moment. “That’s what caught our attention. It’s an unusual name. And then the mention of a van in connection with her really brought it home.”
“Does the girl you found match the picture of the kidnap victim?”
“No,” Katie said. “And given her determination to get back to this Misty and the van, it seems like she must have been a captive much longer than”—she glanced at the alert—“Abigail Abbott.”
“Was she dressed in a school uniform?”
“Um, no, a dress.”
Tina Powell considered this and then asked, “Do you have any evidence whatsoever that Abigail Abbott may be there in…where did you say you were?”
“Smallwood.”
“Which is where exactly?”
“You know Bloomington?” Katie asked.
“Sure.”
“Okay, we’re north of that by about half an hour, just west of 39.”
“What’s that, like two, two and a half hours from here?”
“Sounds about right.”
“And when would you say the
van was likely flipped?”
“Around three.”
“Okay, and the fire looks to have started around noonish, so the timing fits.”
“Fire?” Katie asked.
“They tried to burn the house down, but it didn’t quite work out the way they planned. Don’t ask me for details since it’s way beyond my understanding at the moment, but something about there not being enough oxygen within the room it was started in, so it eventually burned itself out rather than spreading throughout the house. A mailman called it in around two o’clock. Could smell it from the front door.”
“And how do you know Abigail Abbott was there?”
“Her backpack was sitting on a kitchen table, along with her wallet, driver’s permit, student ID, and all her notebooks and schoolbooks.”
“Wow.”
“If the fire hadn’t died out and if all of that had burned, it would have probably taken weeks to realize there was a connection between the two. Shit, it might have taken that long just to realize this professor was bad news.”
A beep in her ear told her she had a message.
It was from Gary.
About Bitsy?
“Any idea why they tried to burn the house down and flee?” she asked while standing up and heading toward the dispatch area.
“That’s still the big question. Something obviously spooked him, but what it was exactly we have no idea. The kidnap itself was clean. No witnesses. The girl simply never came home from school. And doing a check on this guy brings up nothing. Not even a simple parking ticket. As far as everyone knew, he was an upstanding citizen that loved academia and was living his dream—the one about being a tenured professor, not the raping, torture, and slaughter of innocent teenage girls.”
“So you’re certain this isn’t a one-time thing?”
“Oh no, no, no. Whatever it was that caused them to flee meant they were in quite a hurry and left tons of stuff behind. We’re talking pictures, torture items, clothes, and all the stuff one would expect to find within a house of a successful literature professor. He thought the fire would take care of it, but whatever intelligence he had, it wasn’t enough for him to realize he should have opened some windows in the room where the fire was started. Good for us, bad for him.”
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