Blank eyes stare at me from a face that’s black with grime. Dead eyes, I think. And I know that while this girl might be physically alive, something inside her has been snuffed out.

“It’s going to be okay.” Gently, I lower her to the ground, run my hand over her head. “What’s your name?”

She curls into herself, like some soft sea creature that’s been prodded by a sharp stick.

“I think her name’s Ruth,” Sadie whispers. “She’s crazy.”

Ruth Wagler, I realize. Four years gone and still alive.

I turn, find Sadie looking at me. Despite her ragged appearance, there’s a fierceness in her eyes, as if she’s ready to tear into the first person who walks through that door, the chain on her wrist be damned.

“Who did this to you?” I ask.

“The deacon,” the second girl hisses.

“Deacon?” I repeat.

“A man,” Sadie tells me. “He’s old.”

“A couple,” the other girl cuts in. “A married couple.”

“The Masts?” I ask.

“That’s it!” Sadie cries.

“They’re fucking crazy,” the second girl chokes out.

I turn my attention to her, trying not to wince at the sight of the weeping sores around her mouth. “What’s your name?” I ask.

“Bonnie Fisher.”

The girl who disappeared two months ago, I realize. “Your mamm and datt miss you.”

She slaps her hand over her mouth as if to smother a cry. Her eyes fill. But she doesn’t utter a sound.

“Where’s the couple now?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Sadie tells me. “They haven’t been down here for a while.”

“Are they armed?”

“He has a rifle,” Bonnie says.

Uneasiness creeps over me, like a big spider with cold, spindly legs creeping up the back of my neck. I glance toward the door. “Is there anyone else down here?”

The two girls exchange looks. “Leah,” Bonnie says.

Leah Stuckey. I recall the name from that first briefing with Sheriff Goddard. Sixteen years old. From Hope Falls, Ohio. Missing one year. Her parents were recently killed in a buggy accident.

“They took her,” Sadie adds. “Two days ago.”

I think of the body a few yards outside the door and I wonder if it’s Leah’s. “Where did they take her?”

“We don’t know,” Sadie replies.

“They hated Leah,” Bonnie tells me. “They were mean to her because she was mouthy and cussed a lot. They tried to make her read the Bible, like for twenty-four hours straight.” She chokes out a sound that’s part laugh, part sob. “Leah told them to get fucked.” She closes her eyes tightly, as if trying to ward off the memory. “They used a cattle prod on her.”

“They took her once, and when they brought her back, she got really sick. You know, bleeding . . .” Sadie bites her lip. “Down there.”