Pot committed is the polite way of putting it. She’s going to have to go full-on Lady Macbeth now. Act it. Believe it. Be it. For Pete, for herself, for Kylie—the lives of her family are at stake.
“I’ve got an EM-pulse kit to baffle the alarm system if there is an alarm system. Once we’re in, we use handguns,” he says, handing her his glove-compartment .38 revolver. He’s also got a .45 and a 9-millimeter.
The guns. The scrubby wood.
Pete struggles to get over the Dunleavys’ north fence. Rachel stares at him. What is the matter with him? She wonders again if he’s on something or if he’s had an injury he hasn’t told her about. She needs him to be 100 percent.
“Are you OK, Pete?” she says severely.
“Yeah! I’m fine. Are you OK?”
She glares at him in the darkness.
“We should probably get moving, right?” he says.
“Sure.”
The Dunleavys’ backyard. Toys, lawn furniture, a swing. The back door, which leads to the kitchen.
“Come on,” Rachel says.
Flashlights on. EM-pulse kit on.
Pete fiddles with the lock. There’s a little tremor in his right hand.
“Can you get it?”
“Yeah. Done this before. It will not resist my attentions for long, trust me,” he says.
Three minutes. Four minutes.
“Are you sure?”
The door finally unlocks. Pete turns the handle. There is no safety chain. No burglar alarm goes off.
“Are we OK?” Rachel asks.
“Yeah.”
They put on their ski masks and enter the kitchen. Rachel darts her flashlight around the room.
No dead bodies. No assassins.
“Do we know where we’re going?” Rachel whispers.
“Yes,” Pete says. “Follow me.”
She follows Pete upstairs.
Carpet on floor. Pictures on wall. A big clock at the top of the steps. A mirror that scares her for a sec when she sees a person with a gun in it.
“First bedroom on the left,” Pete hisses.
Through the bedroom door. Body odor. Smell of booze. A woman snoring on the bed. Flashlight into the corners. No one else there. Pete tiptoes to the bed, kneels beside the woman, and puts his hand over her mouth. She yelps under Pete’s hand and he holds her down.
Rachel checks the en suite bathroom while Pete smothers her cries with his big paw.
“It’s clear,” Rachel says.
“Are you Helen Dunleavy?” Pete asks. “Just nod your response.”
She nods.
“Where’s your husband?” Pete asks. “One-word answer. The name of a room. Whisper it. If you’re loud, you’re dead.”
“Basement,” Helen croaks.
“I tried to phone you. Do you recognize my voice?” Rachel asks.
“You’ve got Amelia,” Helen says and begins to cry.
“Where’s the kid? Henry Hogg?” Rachel asks.
“Basement.”
“With your husband?”
“We take turns to—”
Rachel glances at Pete. “Bring the husband up here. I’ll stay with this one.”
She switches on the bedroom light and points the .38 at Helen while Pete goes downstairs.
“What happened to your phone?” Rachel asks, seething. “Why isn’t it on? Why aren’t you sleeping with it under your pillow like a normal person would in this situation?”
“I, I, I don’t know. Isn’t it over there on the dresser?” Helen asks. Her face looks haggard, frightened. Her eyes are red and hollow. At least that’s something.
Rachel looks at the dresser. The phone’s dead. “You forgot to charge it,” she says.
“I—I didn’t know.”
“Sleeping while your daughter’s a hostage? What is your goddamned problem?”
“I, I was just taking a—” she begins when the bedroom door opens.
Mike Dunleavy walks in with his hands up. He doesn’t resemble his photos online or on Facebook. He looks much older, grayer, fatter, stupider. Isn’t he supposed to be some kind of smart guy with money? He looks like every dumb dad picking his kids up late from school because he forgot it was his day to get them. No wonder these clowns screwed it up. How did they ever kidnap anybody? Maybe they even lied about that.
“Is the kid in the basement?” Rachel asks Pete.
“Oh yes,” Pete says and he lets out a kind of half whistle as if to say it isn’t a pretty sight down there.
“You’re the ones that took Amelia?” Mike asks with just a trace of an English accent.
“We have her.”
“Is she OK?” Helen asks desperately.
“She’s fine. We’re looking after her.”
“Why are you here?” Mike says. “We’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“No. You screwed up. We tried to call you, but your phone was dead and your computer was turned off,” Rachel says.
Helen is looking at her strangely now. If she says something like “I think I know who you are,” then, Jesus Christ, I’m going to have to shoot her on the spot, Rachel thinks.
“This is about the Hoggs, isn’t it?” Helen says. “They’ve done something.”
“It’s what they’re about to do,” Pete says.
“Oh God! What are they about to do?” Helen asks.
“Seamus has an uncle in the U.S. Marshals Service. And he’s going to go see him tomorrow in Stamford,” Rachel informs her.
“Wh—what does that mean?” Helen asks, appalled.
“In theory, it means you have to kill little Henry and start again or else we have to kill Amelia and start again. Simple as that. I’m not having The Chain come near me or my family. Is that understood?” Rachel snarls.
“There must be some other—” Mike begins.
“There is. The three of us drive down to Providence and explain things to Mr. Hogg in person,” Rachel says.
“The three of us?” Pete inquires.
“The three of us,” Rachel insists. “Can’t trust these clowns.”
She turns to Helen. “You’ll stay and watch the kid. Your husband will come with us. We’ll take your car. It’s a BMW, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Mike says.
“Should be fast enough. Put some goddamn shoes on. Oh, and go find Mr. Boo. We need Mr. Boo,” Rachel says.
“Mr. Boo?” Mike wonders.
“Amelia’s bear. She wants it.”
Helen gets Mr. Boo.
“If you call the cops or warn the Hoggs or do anything stupid while we’re out, Amelia’s dead. They’ll kill her and then they’ll come for you and Toby. Do you understand?” Rachel says.
Helen nods.
They go outside to Mike’s BMW, a large, black top-of-the-line job. The kind they give to big earners at Standard. Plush. Comfortable. Fast.
Mike hands Rachel the keys. She gets in the driver’s seat.
Pete gets in the back with Mike.
She turns the key in the ignition and the car growls to life.
She looks in the rearview. Pete’s still a bit dazed. Mike’s shitting himself. She can handle both of them. She will handle both of them.