few. She might even choke down some watermelon pickles.
“Jenny, you keep holding Benjamin—he's not messy, is he?'
“No. At least I don't think so.'
“You'd know it. I'd just as soon wait as long as possible before changing him. I'll have to feed him soon, though. But maybe there's a window behind one of the rows of jars. It's dark now, so we wouldn't see the light. You sit still and I'll look.”
Before she tackled the shelves, Faith examined the door. She took the awl on her knife and poked the key to the floor. No light was showing and she realized the amount of air that was admitted through the tiny hole was negligible, but it made her feel as if she was doing something and slightly less claustrophobic. Then she dug away at the earth at the bottom of the door to see if she could let in more air, but she came up against cement almost immediately. It was as if Eleanor had had the closet especially constructed for their imprisonment.
She turned to the shelves. It was not an easy task. They were built onto the wall and didn't move. Faith concentrated on taking jars from the top of the shelves down to the middle. It wasn 't likely that there would be a window on the bottom. After thirty minutes of fruitless effort, but more than enough fruit, she stopped to feed Benjamin and rest. She knew she was moving around too much, but she had to try.
“How can she possibly eat all this?' Faith wondered aloud.
“I don't think she does. She just likes to have it. And it's all really terrible. I hope we don't have to eat any. She doesn 't put enough sugar in the jam and she puts too much salt in the tomatoes. Oh, I don't want to think about it ! I'm beginning to get hungry.”
Faith was hungry too, and Benjamin was eagerly sucking away. They could eat the apple, banana, and bread for now.
Jenny was calmer, Faith noted. She seemed to have no doubt that Mrs. Fairchild would find a way out and Mrs. Fairchild did not intend to disabuse her of this notion, a notion that was fast becoming an impossible one.
They ate and Jenny began to confide in Faith, ' It's kind of a relief to know Eleanor did it. I mean it means it's not who I thought it was.”
Faith was puzzled. Surely Jenny couldn't have suspected her father.
“ I know this doesn't make any sense, but in the beginning I thought maybe Dad had killed Cindy by accident. There were a lot of things going on. I heard him arguing with her one night and she was threatening him. It was horrible. Mom was crying and Cindy was screaming. Dad didn't want to pay for the wedding and he wanted Cindy out of the house. Then after Cindy was killed, Mom seemed afraid of something. And Rob was acting weird, too.”
Her voice became slightly muffled, 'I put the rose in your mailbox, Mrs. Fairchild. I read about somebody doing it in a book once and I was afraid you'd find out that it was Dad who killed Cindy.”
Faith felt irrationally relieved. So no one had been trying to kill her after all. At least not then.
“But you couldn 't have thought your father had anything to do with your mother's death,' Faith said gently.
Jenny started to cry—grief, fear, and exhaustion.
“Never. I thought that it must have been a maniac.' She cried harder. 'I don't know what I thought, but not Dad.”
They finished eating. For a short while it had seemed cozy and warm, as if they were on some sort of Girl Scout camp-out. Jenny giggled when Benjamin gave one of his mighty burps and if they could have just turned the latch and walked out, the whole thing might have seemed a perverse sort of fun. One of those 'My Most Unforgettable Experiences.”
Faith began to systematically take the rest of the jars off the shelves. It appeared that the closet was built into the side of Belfry Hill. Still, she figured she might as well look. There was nothing else to do.
Jenny was rocking Benjamin and crooning softly to him. Faith looked at her watch, thanking her stars that she had worn it today, although she wasn't sure why it was so important to note the passing of time. It was eight o'clock. She had arrived at Eleanor's doorstep about four o'clock. They had been locked in for over three hours, Jenny for four. It seemed like weeks.
“Jenny, do you want to take over for a while ? ' Faith struggled to keep her voice calm. The thought of all these jars suddenly overwhelmed her and she thought if she had to lift one more, she would start throwing them instead.
“Sure,' replied Jenny.
Faith sat down and pulled Benjamin onto her lap. She was very tired and wished she could sleep, but there was always the possibility that Eleanor could catch them unawares. She might have changed her mind about the 'killing part.' A few shots followed by a speedy descent in that well would tie up all the loose ends and the money would be hers. 'Why, what a surprise ! Do I get all this?' Faith was sure she already had stacks oftravel brochures and charge account applications tucked away in some lavender-scented drawer.
As she thought this, she realized she was getting slightly hysterical. She patted the two quart jars of dill pickles they had placed close to hand and wished desperately for the chance to hurl them at Eleanor. It was becoming sickeningly clear that unless Eleanor
Jenny wasn't having any luck with her search either. 'Mrs. Fairchild, what if there isn 't a window? What are we going to do?' Her voice rose in alarm.
“There are a lot more shelves, Jenny. Let me take over again,' Faith said wearily.
By nine-thirty, Faith gave up searching for a window. There wasn't any.
The brief feeling of coziness vanished. In its place desperation and a particularly pungent diaper of Benjamin 's, which she had changed an hour before, gave an acrid scent to the air. The earthen floor that had reminded Faith of what was just outside and freedom now called forth only thoughts of entombment.
Benjamin suddenly and emphatically decided he was tired of this game and wanted to go home. Faith tried in vain to stop his cries. It seemed as though each wail used up half the remaining air. Finally he cried himself to sleep. She had some idea that there would be more oxygen at the top of the room and cleared a shelf for him to sleep on, barricaded by the jars, but now she didn 't want to move him. In any case, what was the point? He might live a little longer than they would, but what good would it do him ?
Jenny was nodding. Faith made her a pillow of the diaper bag and held the girl close until she felt her limbs relax in slumber. The sweet escape. Then she slipped Benjamin from under the receiving blanket and lowered him into the Snugli, strapping him onto her chest. They were both warmer that way and thank goodness he didn't wake up. She put the tiny blanket on Jenny. The minutes began to crawl.
She went back to the door and tried desperately to chip away at the concrete with her awl. It snapped off and she tried with one of the knife blades. Finally she leaned up against it and sobbed.
She could hear the two children's regular breathing and felt complete despair.
They were all going to die.
A few feet away, Scott Phelan stood in Eleanor Whipple's backyard looking up at the sky. It was a clear night and the stars shone brightly. He could see other beams, flashlights, darting through the trees of Belfry Hill behind him. They had all started together at the top and systematically were searching their way to the bottom. It was very quiet. The flickering lights were moving steadily. No one was stopping for a closer look. No one was calling for the others to come.
Nothing. No sign of them. Not a button off a coat or a bent branch to show some struggle.
He decided to go back to the church, where they had set up a command post, to check in and find out if there was any news. There had to be. Three people couldn 't just disappear. He looked to the moon for a clue.
Where the hell could they be ?
10
Faith sat up with a start. She had fallen asleep. Her heart was racing madly and a scream rose in her throat. She knew where she was.
She covered her mouth with her hand and bit her palm. It hurt. So she must be alive.
The children were still asleep. She could hear them and dug into her pocket for the light to shine on their faces. There wasn 't much point in trying to save the battery anymore. Then she looked at her watch. It was six o'clock. Morning.
The tears began to stream down her face. Dawn was breaking. But not for them.
