It would be foolhardy for me to intervene. I’m outnumbered three to one—four to one if I include Suggs in the equation. I don’t know if the men are armed. I have no idea where Suggs is or how long it will be before real backup arrives. All of that said, there’s no way in hell I can do nothing while a vicious crime takes place scant feet away.

I turn to Alina. “I want you to drag the bed over here and shove it against the door. Do you understand?”

She looks alarmed. “You can’t go down there. They’ll—”

“No, they won’t.” I step onto the landing, then look back at the woman. “Don’t let anyone in. The good police are on the way.”

*   *   *

Lifting my skirt, I unholster the .22 and start down the stairs. I wish for my .38. Not only does it have six shots, as opposed to five, it’s got a lot more stopping power.

At the base of the stairs, I peer around the corner into the main area. The barn door stands open, undisturbed. No movement. The same as I left it. I can hear the woman wailing over the blare of the music. One of the men is taunting her. I know better than to let that get inside my head or let my emotions get involved. But I know what that kind of violence does to a person, and I make an effort to dial it back.

I step into the hall and go right. Straight ahead, the door is still ajar. Pressing my back to the wall, I edge toward it, ducking at each window I pass in case someone’s locked inside and they start making noise. I reach the door. Using my fingers, I push it open a few inches and look inside.

Straight ahead I see a folding table. Playing cards, a bag of chips, and several beer bottles sit on top. A flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall to my right. A pornographic movie plays on the screen in vivid color. Music blares from a sleek sound system stacked on a shelf unit. A newish sofa, end table, and lamp. Clothes strewn on the floor. There are no weapons in sight.

I look left. I see a man on a bed. His back is bare, his lower half covered by a blanket. I can only see the side of his face. Black hair. Scruffy beard. The woman lies motionless beneath him. Bloodied lip. Misery on her face.

A door near the bed swings open. I slink back, but not before I see Jacob Yoder emerge from what looks like a bathroom. No need for me to be worried he’ll see me; his attention is riveted on the man and woman in the bed. He’s wearing trousers, unfastened and unzipped. No shirt. Wiry arms. Skinny white chest. His face is flushed.