Caitlin winced through the feeling of the rocks on her bare, torn feet and passed her bedroom without looking. “What about the tunnel to the left?”

“No good,” Chapman answered, already climbing onto the shelf where the topless dumbwaiter waited. “His remote does that door too.”

The folding chair Embower would bring into Caitlin’s room rested against the wall. She ran back, wedged the chair under the doorknob, and glanced through the window. Embower lay on the floor facing the bed with his hands over his mouth, but he wasn’t moving.

She ran back to the dumbwaiter opening in time to see Chapman’s feet disappear through the ceiling. Next in line, she climbed the shelving, grabbed the rope on the side, and jumped up until she could wedge her foot on a support beam. Above her, Chapman kicked her way out of the shaft, eight feet up. Caitlin reached for another beam, then froze.

The distinct chime of a timer dinged in the hall below.

So much for the knockout gas.

No going back now, Caitlin pushed off a support and pulled her way up into the kitchen, clamoring over a countertop and landing on the linoleum.

Angela helped her up. “There’s no phone.”

“No knives either,” Caitlin said, turning back to the counter. “Help me lift the microwave.”

The large appliance hadn’t been moved in years. Caitlin knocked a stack of plates off the top and grabbed the cord. They each took a side, then stopped.

Though distant, there was no mistaking the crisp shots of deadbolts being turned echoing up through the dumbwaiter shaft.

“He’s awake,” Angela said, her eyes wide.

Caitlin swallowed hard. “Well, he’s not getting up the way we came.”

They pushed the microwave through the dumbwaiter opening. It fell three feet before getting lodged, blocking the shaft.

“He’ll just come up the other way,” Angela said.

“Do you know where it comes out?”

Angela shook her head no.

Caitlin considered their options. They could try to fight, two against one, but she’d already lost one fight in the farmhouse. “We run.”

“We won’t make it. He has cameras.”

Caitlin saw Embower’s laptop on the kitchen table and smashed it against the counter. His surveillance fell in pieces onto the linoleum. “Back door,” she said. “Let’s move.”

Chapter 83

CHAPTER

83

“NOT THAT WAY.” Chapman pulled Caitlin toward the corn. “The main road’s closer.”

Under the light of a full moon clouded by a steady drizzle of rain, Caitlin looked across the field to the Branford house, then in Chapman’s direction. Even in the dark, she could tell the girl was right.

“How many times have you done this, Angela?”

“This makes thirteen.”

“Lucky number thirteen? Let’s go.”

Mud coated her feet, rain soaked her clothes, and cornstalks sliced her skin, but Caitlin ran the quarter mile without flinching.