Annabelle stood and blocked the door opening for a moment. Her hair was cut short and dyed blonde. “Do I look different?” she asked with a hopeful smile.
Sandra balked.
“I told you, I’m getting out, too,” Annabelle said.
“Well, you-you look great!” Sandra gasped, not sure what to say. “Let’s go, okay? All right?”
Annabelle grabbed her hand and led her toward the basement stairs. “C’mon, we just need to get some stuff out of my room….”
Sandra’s legs buckled as she raced up the stairs with Annabelle. She hadn’t run for days; she hadn’t even been able to walk more than a few steps without turning around in that cramped, filthy cell. She stumbled on the stairs, but quickly got up again and kept moving.
At the top step, she noticed the kitchen door directly ahead. It had a window in it. She could see outside. It was night.
Annabelle started to run past the door. Sandra stopped abruptly. “Wait!” she whispered. “I thought we were getting out of here.”
“I told you,” Annabelle said, tugging at her arm. “I need to get some stuff in my room first.”
“But he might come back. Please, for God’s sake….”
“He might come back?” Annabelle repeated, laughing. “He’s upstairs, out cold. He had too much to drink, as usual. He passed out on the bed.”
Sandra tried to pull away, but Annabelle wouldn’t let her go. “What if he wakes up?” she asked, tears in her eyes. “Please, Annabelle, I just want to get the hell out of here!”
“Would you relax?” Annabelle said, dragging her into the kitchen. “I know what I’m doing. I gave him the same stuff he used on you the other night, chloroform. Believe me, he won’t wake up. I told you I’d do this right, Sandra. We’re
As Annabelle led her through the kitchen, Sandra noticed the telephone on the wall. “Why don’t we just call the police? Everyone must be looking for me.”
Annabelle swiveled around. “We can’t involve the police, stupid!” she hissed. “Goddammit, don’t you remember? I’m the one who set you up, the same way I set up Gina and all the others. I’m as guilty as he is.” She grabbed a lock of her recently dyed blond hair. “Why do you think I went to all this trouble to look different? I need to get away and start new someplace else. You promised you’d help me….”
“I will,” Sandra said, flustered.
“I stole a car yesterday, and stashed it behind some bushes near the end of the driveway,” Annabelle said, leading her to the front hallway. “The thing’s an ugly piece of crap, an old Tempo. I just moved it a few minutes ago-our
They started up the stairs to the second floor. “I’ve secretly been taking money out of my father’s account for months,” Annabelle explained. “Plus I’ve got some of my mother’s jewelry. I can hock that.” She paused at the top of the stairs. “Oh, speaking of jewelry…” She took off her bracelet.
Catching her breath, Sandra gazed at the ugly mark it had covered on the back of Annabelle’s wrist.
“I want you to have this,” Annabelle said, slipping the wide, silver bracelet onto Sandra’s wrist. She did it in an almost ceremonial way. “It means we’re one and the same.”
Baffled, Sandra stared down at the bracelet.
Annabelle was pulling her down the hallway. “C’mon, take a look at him,” she said. “He’s totally unconscious.”
“Can’t we just
“No, I need to say good-bye to him,” Annabelle insisted. She dragged her into the master bedroom.
Her father lay on the bed, his jeans unfastened in front and a T-shirt riding high on his exposed, hairy beer gut. It rose up and down as he breathed heavily in his sleep. Sandra could see the red marks on his face from the chloroform.
Annabelle stared at him, and her grip on Sandra’s arm tightened. “I hope you wake up in time to feel the flames,” she whispered to her unconscious father. She shook with rage. “I hope you’ll be in terrible, terrible pain, you fucking scumbag.”
Then she spit in his face.
Sandra winced. “Annabelle, please, you’re hurting me….”
The talon-like grip on her arm loosened, and then Annabelle released her. She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a few deep breaths. “I better give him one more dose of this stuff,” she said, reaching for a bottle and rag on the bureau.
“What did you just say about
But Annabelle didn’t answer. Her face pinched up and turned away from her work, she soaked the rag with chloroform.
Sandra rubbed her arm and, once again, frowned at the silver bracelet on her wrist.
When she looked up, she saw Annabelle coming at her. Before Sandra knew what was happening, Annabelle shoved her against the wall and stuffed the rag in her face.
Sandra’s head slammed back against the wall. Dazed, she fought and struggled to push Annabelle away, but the other girl was stronger. The fumes were too much. She tried not to breathe in, but it was no good. She couldn’t move. She felt paralyzed.
“You promised,” she heard Annabelle say. “You’re going to help me get away and start new someplace else.”
After that, Sandra didn’t hear anything.
Sandra Hartman didn’t feel anything either, not even later when the flames burned her body beyond recognition. She never regained consciousness during the fire. She never felt the horrible, excruciating pain.
But Lon did.
Chapter Twenty-two
Amelia still hadn’t shown up yet. And she wasn’t answering her cell phone.
Standing on the steps outside the Wenatchee Public Library, Karen felt the cold night wind cut through her. She glanced at her wristwatch: 7:00.
She couldn’t have missed Amelia. She’d been at the rest home for no more than a half hour. The trip had been worthwhile, too. Miriam Getz had given her a better idea about the incident that had traumatized Amelia as a child. Still, it didn’t make sense that Amelia clung to such sweet memories of this neighbor man who had obviously been trying to molest her. The only people who didn’t believe that Clay Spalding was pure evil were Amelia and Clay’s friend Naomi Rankin.
Karen had left Naomi a second voice mail, but still no response.
However, the person she was most concerned about right now was Jessie. It had been at least ninety minutes since she’d spoken with her. How long did it take to find a stupid hotel room, anyway? Jessie certainly should have called her by now to say that she and George’s kids were all right. Something must have happened. And Karen had no way of getting in touch with her, because Jessie didn’t own a cell phone.
She took out her phone and punched in George’s number. Maybe Jessie had gotten in touch with him instead.
She caught George in his car on his way to the Salem airport. He told her about the graves at the Schlessinger ranch.
The wind kicked up, and Karen shuddered on the library steps. “Well, there were four missing-person cases in Moses Lake in 1992,” she said into the phone. “The last one was a few months before the Schlessingers moved to Salem. I’m still trying to dig up more information about that incident with the neighbor molesting Amelia. So far, it seems pretty much the way Annabelle’s teacher described it to you. In the meantime, I’m standing in front of the library here, freezing my butt off, waiting for Amelia.”
“Are you
“Almost positive,” Karen said. “She borrowed Shane’s car and drove out to Grand Coulee Dam early this
