The lock was at waist height on the sill. With trembling fingers, she used those memories of her escape in Utah and went to work placing the narrow loop into the lock as a lever for the other metal piece. The wire thickness barely fit. But it fit.
Click.
Plink.
Click.
She turned the lock. Nothing.
Sweat rolled down her temple, tickling her cheek. Air rasped in and out of her lungs.
The voices continued. When would they come back?
Forcing her hands to stop shaking, she rolled her shoulders. Not only would she make it out of this hellish place and find her way across wilderness to safety, she would call for help for Mrs. Brand, and then she would let the Taggarts know about the extent the Brand guys wanted to hurt them.
She readjusted the hanger pieces.
The light metal in the lock made tinyscritchesin the quiet night. Who was it that had left the house? Would they be out here, waiting for her?
She'd deal with that issue later. For now, escape.
A slight movement of her hand, and there, she felt the bent tip of the long piece of metal push up the farthest pin. Easing the metal back, she pressed the second pin, then the third. One more to go.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Last one.
Clink.
Scared to move, in case the whole thing slipped, she paused. Then, with a slow and steady twist, she turned the lock.
The window lock popped open.
