Exposure

dimness. No wash of light was visible from the vehicle at the other end of the lot. Lorraine could only hope that as she passed this side of the building, it passed the other.

Tammy smacked her window and wailed for Belinda. The sounds hissed in Lorraine’s ears. “Be quiet!”

The little girl only cried louder.

At the next corner Lorraine braked hard. Tammy slid forward in her seat, caught by her seatbelt.

“Mommy, stop it!”

Lorraine edged the van forward. Leaning as far toward the windshield as possible, she peered to the right down the long side of the building. No car. No lights. The Huff entrance, at the other end of the lot and to the left, was empty. Whoever turned in had passed building two. The driver would now be between the parallel storage buildings.

“I want Belinda!” Tammy threw herself across the console as far as the belt would let her, little hands pummeling Lorraine’s shoulder. Surely she was loud enough to be heard. Lorraine wanted to clamp both hands over her mouth.

“Be quiet, Tammy!”

She swerved around the corner and sped down the length of building two.

At the bottom she slid to another stop. Tammy pitched forward again. Her seatbelt caught with a snap. She let out a wail.

Lorraine rolled forward until she could see around the corner.

No one there.

It was him. Had to be. Martin’s killer, maybe some of the other robbers, skulking in the night to unit seven to clean out their millions.

Lorraine threw a wild look toward the Huff entrance. She could make it without being seen — as long as those men stayed up by unit seven. She wanted to roll down her window and listen in the darkness, but Tammy shrieked on. One crack of the window, and they’d hear her.

Lorraine’s chest tightened. By now they would be finding the broken hasp. They’d see Belinda.

“Mommyyy!”

Gritting her teeth, Lorraine whipped the wheel toward the entrance and hit the gas.

Every second seemed a lifetime. She wanted to screech out of there but couldn’t risk being heard. The van was old, but at least its engine ran quietly.

She checked in the rearview mirror, seeing only the long stretch of concrete leading up to the apartment. It would be the last glimpse of the life she’d had with Martin.

The Huff entrance jumped into view on her right. Barely slowing to check traffic, she darted into the road.

Lorraine accelerated to the next block, then swerved in a right turn. Her muscles hardened to granite. Any minute she expected a car to materialize behind her, shots to ring out.

At the next block she veered left.

Then right again. Then left.

She kept up the jagged pattern, her mind clamped down, all thoughts on hold.

Tammy cried herself out and lay back in her seat, panting. “You didn’t get Belinda.” Her voice trembled with exhaustion and bitterness. “You lied to me, you said you’d get her, but you didn’t.”

Lorraine’s throat ached. What had she done to her daughter this night? What would they do for the rest of their lives?

“I’m so sorry. I’ll buy you another bear.”

“I don’t want another bear.”

At the edge of town Lorraine spotted a sign for the freeway. She sped up the on ramp, not knowing, not caring which way they were headed.

Not until a few exits had passed did she see they were traveling south.

FORTY-SEVEN

Kaycee half fell from the SUV, her pulse a hard, steady grind. By the roots of her hair Rodney pulled her up. Needles dug through her scalp. She gasped and staggered, getting her bearings. Through the blackness she could barely make out trees all around her. Vague dual tracks ribboned behind the car’s wheels, soon disappearing into the night. Before her slumped an abandoned cabin with sagging porch and soulless windows.

Rodney dug his fingers into her arm. She flinched. “Where’s Hannah?”

“Inside.”

“There’s no lights in there.” The thought of a young girl in the dark by herself made Kaycee want to shriek. Was Hannah tied up? Hurt?

Rodney pushed Kaycee’s back. “Go.”

She tripped up the two porch steps and went down on one knee. Rodney lugged her upright. At the battered entrance he fished in his pocket for a key.

When he pulled the door open its hinges moaned.

They stepped into greater darkness, dispelled only from a wedge of light oozing beneath a closed door on the left. Kaycee blinked, her eyes adjusting. They stood in a sullen and tangled room, a ragged couch, table and chairs at angles, a bookcase of broken, emptied shelves. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling. To the back on the right lay a semblance of a kitchen. The place smelled of must and dirt and a thick heaviness.

Rodney walked toward the closed door. “Hannah.”

A pause. The silence vibrated in Kaycee’s ears.

“Yeah?”

Kaycee’s breath caught in her throat. The familiar voice sounded so small and frightened. She flung herself toward the room, palms flat on the barrier between her and the girl. “Hannah!”

“Kaycee?”

Uneven footsteps, a creak in the floor. A thump hit the other side of the wood. “Kaycee! I want to go home.” Hannah burst into tears.

Rodney grabbed Kaycee’s elbow and pulled her back. She swiveled around and launched a fist at his face. He caught her wrist and bent her arm downward. Pain shot through the joint.

“Aah!” Kaycee aimed a knee at his groin. He jerked to his right, slapped both hands on her shoulders and shoved her against the wall. Her head rebounded with a stunning thud. Both eyelids fluttered.

Rodney jumped back and whipped out his gun. The thing had the longest barrel she’d ever seen. A silencer?

“Hit me again, and I’ll shoot your arm.” His words spat venom. “I’ll still get what I want out of you, but you’ll wish you’d done it without the pain.”

Kaycee glared at him, chest heaving and teeth clenched. Hatred like she’d never known swirled acid through her veins. “There was blood in the road where she disappeared. Is it hers?”

Hannah’s sobs wheezed from the room. “Kayceeeee.”

The girl was so close, just a few inches of wood away. The thought snatched air from Kaycee’s lungs. She reached out a shaking hand and pressed it against the door. “I’ll get you . . . out of there, Hannah. Promise.”

Her head throbbed. Both knees jellied. Kaycee fought to keep upright.

Rodney grunted with disgust. “She fell and scraped her knee. I haven’t touched her. Only you can keep it that way.”

The jelly liquefied. Kaycee slid down the wall to the floor.

“Hannah!” Rodney smacked the door. The girl gulped mid-sob. “Tell her what I told you.”

Kaycee tilted her head up. Barely lit from the crack of light beneath the door, Rodney’s face looked like calcified wood, the lines in his forehead cut deep, bleak shadows for eyes. He held the gun ready, finger on the