“Henry too,” Ray added grimly. ”But we’re not going to let that happen. We need to figure out a way to escape before he gets back. He has no intention of letting us live once he gets his hands on the money. You heard him. He’ll march us into the forest and make us dig our own graves. We have no chance of escaping with a gun trained on us. This is our best shot.”
Sonia threw a helpless look around. “How exactly are we supposed to get out of here?”
“I’m not sure,” Ray admitted. ”But Katie did it.”
Sonia bit down on her lip. “I can’t believe she spent the past few years in a bunker. She must have been terrified.”
“Sounds like Finn gave her some freedom after Henry was born. She was likely so conditioned by then—what do they call it, Stockholm syndrome or something—that Finn never imagined she would try to escape.”
Sonia wiped her bound hands over her eyes. ”I wish she could have known that Henry was safe before she died.”
“All this time I thought it was Tom who’d abused him,” Ray said. “I feel sick to my stomach every time I think about the things that I accused my brother of. He was only trying to help Henry escape. That’s why he hid him in the loft bed—in case Finn came by. He was probably planning to take him to our mother’s place—he had nowhere else to go.” He hesitated before adding softly. “He might even have told Henry he was his real dad so he would feel safe with him.”
Sonia smiled sadly at him. ”Your brother was a good man. He died a hero.”
Ray pressed his lips together tightly. ”He shouldn’t have died at all. If I hadn’t been so angry with him, he might have confided in me. But he hadn’t seen me in twenty years, and he didn’t trust me. Not that I blame him—I was from the outside world that had only ever let him down. It’s my fault he’s dead.”
“No, Finn killed him,” Sonia said firmly. “All we can do to honor Tom now is fight to stay alive. We can start by finding something to cut these ties with.”
Ray gave an absent nod, eying a blanket just out of reach in the corner of the floor. If he lay on his back and extended his hands over his head, he might be able to grab a corner. Maybe there would be something useful underneath it. He wriggled into position and stretched out on the dirt floor. It took several attempts, but he finally succeeded in grasping the edge of the blanket between his fingers. Grunting, he tugged it toward him, revealing a small blue notebook.
“That must be Katie’s,” Sonia muttered, her voice breaking.
“I can’t reach it,” Ray said, sitting back up. “Anyway, it’s not going to help us get out of here. I was hoping for some tools or a knife.” He frowned in concentration, trying for several minutes to free his feet, before turning his attention to his hands. After a few minutes, he gave up, his wrists too raw to keep at it. There was no point in trying to dig out the iron ring either—no doubt Finn had some heavy-duty anchor securing it in place.
Frustrated, he eyed the hardback notebook lying just out of reach. Maybe he could tear off the cover and use it as leverage to force the zip tie over his wrists somehow. Holding one end of the blanket, he threw it over the book and, after several tries, gradually managed to tug it toward him. Sonia reached for it and opened it, flicking through pages of accomplished sketches—everything from beach scenes to birthday parties.
“This is heartbreaking,” Sonia said in a hoarse whisper. “This was how Katie showed Henry the outside world.”
“We’re wasting time,” Ray chided. “We need to focus on getting out of here.”
Sonia frowned, turning the book sideways to examine a drawing. “Hey! Check it out! It’s a picture of this room.”
Trying to mask his irritation, Ray glanced at the sketch. It was an amateurish attempt, obviously Henry’s handiwork, but one small detail caught his attention. Beneath the iron ring was a handful of tiny dashes—too exact to have been drawn by a four-year-old. His eye traveled across the page to the clumsy attempt at a door. Right below the lock was another small dash. Ray gasped as Finn’s words flashed to mind.
Turns out Katie was a lot more resourceful than I gave her credit for.
He tapped a finger excitedly on the dashes. “Those are nails! Katie buried them to hide them from Finn! She’s drawn one below the lock to show what they are—probably for Henry’s sake, in case anything ever happened to her.”
His eyes locked with Sonia’s, and a flicker of hope passed between them.
“Hurry!” Ray said urgently. “We don’t have much time.”
Rivulets of sweat ran down his back as he worked, digging like a rabid dog for a bone. He struggled to loosen the dirt around the ring until his cramped fingers began to bleed.
“It’s no use,” Sonia sobbed, kicking at the ring in frustration.
“Don’t give up, yet!” Ray urged. “It’s our only chance.” Wincing, he drove his bloodied fingers deeper into the dirt—yelping when the tip of his finger touched something sharp. “I’ve got something!” he gasped.
Scrabbling at the dirt, he uncovered a handful of three-inch rusty nails, wrapped in a scrap of paper.
“What is it?” Sonia asked.
Ray carefully unfurled the slip of paper and read it aloud. “Remember us: Katie Rose Lambert, born June 02, 1999, and Henry Jackson Lambert, born April 04, 2017.”
Ray glanced over at Sonia’s sorrow-stricken face.
”She was too young to die,” she whispered.
“I wish we could have saved her,” Ray said. He gestured to the nails. “It looks like she might have saved us.”
Sonia brushed the tears from her lashes. “How? We can’t pick the lock if we can’t reach the door.”
”No, but we can use the nails as
