“The heating was broken so we had to come home. Why are you wearing those things on your faces?”
“What’s your name?” Rachel asks.
“Amelia Dunleavy.”
“Where’s your brother, Toby?”
“He went to Liam’s house. He told me to take his bag home.”
“What are we going to do now?” Pete asks Rachel.
“We’re taking her,” Rachel says grimly.
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“It’s the plan now,” Rachel tells him. She knows she’ll never be able to go through this again. And if she can’t go through with it, Kylie’s dead.
“Come on, Amelia,” Pete says. “We’re giving you a ride home.”
He puts her in the car, clasps her seat belt, sits beside her, and locks the door. Rachel makes a U-turn and drives toward the Route 1A exit.
“Are we really doing this? What about her health issues?” Pete asks.
“We’ll deal with them. No peanuts or peanut products. We’ll get an EpiPen…shit!” Rachel exclaims and punches the dashboard.
“You shouldn’t use that word,” Amelia says.
“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—”
“Give it to me!”
Pete hands her the .45 and she puts it in her lap. “You know how to use it?” he asks.
“Yes. We’re agreed on what we’re going to do if we’re stopped?”
“Yes,” he says and holds his breath.
27
Friday, 6:57 p.m.
The cops tailgate them for thirty seconds, slowly come alongside, and then zoom by in the passing lane.
Of course they do.
Rachel has done nothing wrong.
She drives straight to the Appenzellers’.
Amelia is either dazed or terrified. It doesn’t matter which—she’s compliant, and that’s what counts. “You get her inside and I’ll make the phone calls,” Rachel tells Pete.
When the street is deserted Pete takes Amelia out of the Dodge and down into the basement.
Rachel stays in the cab and pulls up the Wickr app on her phone. It’s done, she types to her contact.
What’s done? a message comes back.
I’ve kidnapped Amelia Dunleavy. I’m holding her right now.
Rachel’s phone rings. “Good. Very good,” the distorted voice says. “I will call her family now. You will then call and ask for a hundred thousand dollars, payable in Bitcoin to the same account as before.”
“A hundred thousand! That seems—”
“That represents only half the amount they have in their savings account. They can pay that easily. It’s not about the money, Rachel.”
“I know. It’s about The Chain.”
“That’s right. I will call them and tell them to get a pen and paper. You will talk to them five minutes from now on a burner phone. They will be waiting by the telephone for your call.”
The line goes dead.
Rachel calls Pete on a burner phone.
“Hello?” he says.
“Is everything OK?” she asks.
“She’s freaked, obviously. Scared. I’m saying that we’re friends of the family. She sort of believes it and sort of doesn’t.”
“Keep her safe, Pete. Keep her away from nuts. I don’t know how sensitive she is, but we have to err on the side of caution. Let’s not be the stupid babysitter in one of those movies.”
“We won’t be.”
“We have to read all the labels of everything we give to her and we’ll need to get an EpiPen.”
“We will. I’ll look into that. I think you can get them on eBay. Have you called the family yet?”
“Doing it now.”
“Use a different phone than this one. Drive away from the house to make the call.”
“Good idea. I will.”