“I’ll only be a minute. As soon as I get back, we really need to pack up and leave.”
“Okay,” Rory said, squeezing her arms tightly around her bulging belly. “There’s no way I’m staying here now.”
There were just two coats on the hooks in the hallway-a lightweight woman’s jacket and a green slicker. Lake pulled the slicker over her head, and with her car key in hand made a dash from the door.
The rain seemed to be coming down in rivers. As she plunged across the muddy yard, trying to scan the surroundings with her eyes, she didn’t know what she was more afraid of-being attacked out there or hit by lightning. She unlocked the car with her key from fifteen feet away, yanked open the door, and quickly locked it again once she was safely inside. Her hands trembled as she hit the button on the glove compartment. She felt overwhelmed with a sense of foreboding.
The flashlight was where she remembered it to be-wedged behind the owner’s manual-but when she turned it on she saw that the battery was low and the light was a dull beam. Maybe Rory at least had batteries inside.
She pulled the slicker hood over her head again and jumped from the car. As she staggered through the mud, all the lights in the house went off again-and this time they stayed off. Damn, she thought.
“Rory,” she called out as she entered the darkened entranceway. “Have you got any C batteries?” She quickly locked the door behind her and kicked off her muddied clogs.
“Did you hear me?” she called out as she felt for the peg and hung the slicker. “I need batteries.”
There wasn’t any answer.
She trained the flashlight through the doorway to the living room and let it bounce around. It lit up only the first several feet of the room, and beyond that was only darkness.
“Rory,” Lake called again. “Where are you?” Maybe she can’t hear me from the kitchen, Lake thought. And yet something didn’t seem right.
She edged her way through the living room, her anxiety mounting. Finally she reached the kitchen. She ran the flashlight in an arc around the room. There was no one there.
From what she’d been able to see earlier, there were only two main rooms on the ground floor-the living room and the kitchen. But a doorway at the far end of the kitchen seemed to open onto some kind of mudroom. Lake walked toward it and pointed the flashlight into the space. It was actually more of a pantry than a mudroom, with shelves of canned and packaged foods-and a door to the outside. Had Rory fled the house in a panic? she wondered.
I’ve got to get out of here, she thought desperately. But first she had to find Rory. She turned and inched back into the kitchen. The light from the flashlight seemed even fainter now, and she knew it might be only seconds before it went out all together. She flicked the light toward the table. She could just make out the package of candles. It had been ripped open and one of the candles was missing.
Squeezing the flashlight in her armpit, Lake pulled out the other candle and then turned and squinted at the stove. To her relief she saw that it had gas burners. She fired up a burner and thrust the candle into the flame, lighting it. Suddenly there was a sound behind her. She spun around. Rory was standing there, a burning candle in one hand and a box of matches in the other.
“God, Rory, where were you?” Lake blurted out.
“I’m sorry. I went upstairs,” Rory said. “I thought I heard a noise up there.”
“What kind of noise?”
“It was this sort of knocking sound. It really scared me. It turned out to be just the drapes in the bedroom-they were flapping against the wall.”
“What do you mean?” Lake asked anxiously.
“The window was open a little. The wind was blowing them.”
“But I thought you said you’d locked all the windows,” Lake said. She could barely hide her irritation.
“I know-I thought I had. But I must not have noticed that one because the drapes were closed.”
“And you’re certain you’re the one who left it open?”
“Yes. But it’s closed now and locked.”
“Fine, okay, you’ve got to pack now. What do you need besides clothes and toiletries?”
“I take heparin for my pregnancy. I have to get that.”
Suddenly Lake felt overwhelmed by a wave of fatigue. She took a deep breath, trying to summon her strength. “It’s going to be tough for you to pack with a candle. Do you have any C batteries?”
“I’m not sure. But I remembered where my husband keeps the flashlights-in the basement.” As Rory spoke she cocked her head toward a wooden door across the kitchen that obviously led downstairs. “He’s got a workbench down there with flashlights in the drawer.”
“Good,” Lake said. “Take a seat at the table. I’ll get the flashlights and then I’ll help you pack your stuff. We can be out of here in ten minutes.”
“Okay,” Rory replied, but she stood motionless in the middle of the kitchen, staring at Lake.
“What’s the matter?” Lake said.
“Are you all right?” Rory asked. “You look funny all of a sudden.” Rory’s face was drawn with concern, her pale skin like a mask in the flickering glow of the candle flame.
“I’m-I’m just tired. And I just want to get out of here.”
“Me, too,” Rory said.
Lake crossed the kitchen. After opening the basement door, she instinctively felt for the light switch and flipped it up. Dumb, she thought. She stared below. With the light from the candle, the basement looked like an empty black pit that went on forever. At least there was a railing to grasp. With one hand sliding along it, Lake made her way tentatively down the wooden stairs.
As she reached the bottom step she saw that the basement was split in two by the stairs. To the right were a washer and dryer against the wall and a big, stand-alone freezer, the horizontal kind. On the far left she could see the workbench with just a few tools hanging from a pegboard above it. All I have to do, she told herself, is find the flashlights and get out.
She crossed the cement floor and tugged at one of the two drawers. Her arm felt oddly weak, and the drawer refused to budge. She tugged again, harder, and this time the drawer jerked open. Its bottom was scattered with loose nails, nothing more. She tried the other drawer. Two flashlights lay side by side. They were the long heavy-duty kind security cops carried.
She grabbed one, pushed the switch up and to her relief saw that it worked. She blew out the candle and then grabbed the other flashlight. Now get the hell out of here, she told herself. As she turned, a muffled crash sounded directly above her, making her whole body jerk. Something had fallen hard in the kitchen. Had Rory tripped? Had someone gotten into the house? Was it Harry? Or the man from Brooklyn? She had to get back upstairs to help Rory.
Flooded with fear, she lunged through the near-darkness toward the stairs. Suddenly she felt dizzy and disoriented in the near-darkness. She raised her foot to meet the first step but didn’t reach it, and she stumbled, falling. As she landed in a heap, both flashlights bounced from her hands. She heard one roll across the floor to her left. The other, the one she’d been using, was just a few feet away, shooting a beam of light across the hard cement floor. Terrified, she crawled toward it on her knees. Don’t let it go out, she begged.
She reached the flashlight and stuck her arm out feebly to grab it. Then she felt an intense, searing pain in her head. A split second later she slipped into unconsciousness.
Pain woke her, forced open her eyes. She was lying in pitch-black darkness, and her head was throbbing, as if someone had smashed the back of it with a chair. There was a weird taste in her mouth-metallic. I’ve cut the inside of my mouth, she thought. She tried to find the spot with her tongue, but it was too swollen to move.
Where am I? she wondered panic-stricken. Her heart began to pound in time with the throbbing in her head. She tried to shift her body, but she felt paralyzed.