Page 48 of The Chain
“You’re right,” Rachel replies. “Sorry, sweetie. How old are you, honey?”
“I’m eight,” Amelia says. “I’ll be nine in December.”
“Who lets an eight-year-old walk home by herself at night in this day and age? In the rain? Who does that?” Rachel mutters.
“Toby was supposed to be here. It was my very first time at archery tonight. I can use the junior bow now. And he was supposed to walk me home, but he went to Liam’s because we got out early.”
“And Toby let you go home by yourself?”
“He said I was a big girl. He let me carry his bag,” Amelia says.
“Well, you have to come with us now. Your mom said it was OK. It’s an adventure,” Rachel tells her.
She sees Amelia shake her head in the rearview mirror. “I don’t want to go with you. I want to go home,” she says.
“You can’t go home. You have to come with us,” Rachel insists.
“I want to go home!” Amelia says and begins to wail.
Rachel gags as Amelia begins to thrash and claw at the seat belt.
“I want to go home!” Amelia yells and Pete holds the struggling little girl with his big hands.
When she’s out of town, Rachel skids the Dodge to the side of the road on an isolated bit of Route 1A somewhere in the marshy woods between Beverly and Wenham. She climbs out of the cab, takes off the ski mask, and vomits.
She spits and vomits again. Her mouth is acrid and her throat burns. Tears are pouring down her cheeks.
She vomits until she’s only dry-heaving.
Pete opens the car door and throws out Amelia’s shoes and the gym bag. “Better sink those in the swamp,” he says. “Just to be on the safe side. Might be a GPS transmitter in them.”
Rachel puts the shoes in the gym bag, partially zips it, and throws it in the marsh, where it floats. She doesn’t have time for a Norman Bates–style car-sinking scene, so she wades into the swamp and sinks the bastard with her foot. Then she puts the ski mask back on.
“Do you want me to drive?” Pete asks as Rachel climbs back into the pickup. She shakes her head and turns to Amelia, who has tears streaming down her little face. Her eyes are wide and she’s clearly terrified.
“It’s going to be OK, darling,” Rachel says. “We’re just taking you for a couple of days. It’s a game we’re playing. Your mommy and daddy know all about it.”
“Are they playing the game too?” Amelia asks, surprised.
“Yes, they are. It’s going to be OK. I promise,” Rachel says and puts the car in gear and drives again.
“You’re going to have to wear this blindfold now, honey,” Pete says. “It’s part of the game.”
“Like blindman’s buff?” Amelia asks.
“Sure,” Pete says.
“I’ve played that one before.”
She puts the blindfold on, and Pete and Rachel take their ski masks off.
They are just outside of Newbury when Rachel sees the state police car in her rearview mirror. “Cops,” she says calmly.
Pete looks back. “We haven’t done anything wrong. Just keep driving, don’t speed, don’t go slow,” he says.
“I know,” she snarls at him. “But give me a gun. If they stop us, there will be no talking our way out of this.”
“Rachel—”
