Eve opened her eyes and scanned the room for any tells. There was no fresh paint or patching on the walls. The floors were covered with dust except for a path, made by herself and probably Coyle, from the front door to the rug.

Why did he bring a rug?

She bolted from the couch, grabbed the corner of the rug, and yanked it away, revealing a fresh sheet of plywood nailed to the floor. Eve jammed the crowbar under the plywood and forced it loose, the nails squealing like live animals as they were yanked from the joists, and lifted the sheet away.

Caitlin, in soiled clothes, her limbs bound tightly with duct tape, was wedged faceup between two joists. Another piece of duct tape, with a hole cut through for an IV tube, covered her mouth. The tube ran from her mouth to an empty bottle of water wedged between her head and the next joist. Her eyes were closed but she was breathing.

Eve’s instinct was to immediately lift Caitlin from her cramped space. But the cop in her remembered that this was a crime scene, one that might soon be destroyed. She took out her phone, snapped a couple quick pictures of Caitlin, then gently peeled the tape from the child’s mouth and removed the straw.

Eve leaned in close and carefully slipped her hands under Caitlin, who reeked of urine and sweat.

“I’m Eve. I’m a police officer. You’re safe now.”

Caitlin’s eyelids fluttered open and she stared at Eve.

“Where is the monster?” she asked in a weak, raspy voice.

“Where he can’t hurt you anymore.”

Eve glanced out the window. The flames were everywhere. “I don’t have time to untie you. I’m sorry. We have to go as fast as we can.”

She picked the girl up, held her close, and ran for the front door into a wailing firestorm of embers, smoke, and ash. Tall, scorching flames were blowing against one side of the house and splashing like waves against the Mercedes, which formed a wall that protected the Explorer from the fire.

Eve opened the back door of the SUV, laid Caitlin down on the seat, belted her in, then got into the driver’s seat and grabbed the radio.

“This is 22-David-4 requesting emergency rescue and fire department support. I’m at 74 Castlemere Road with a ten-year-old girl who is in need of immediate medical attention.”

The dispatcher responded almost immediately. “Copy 22-David-4. Stand by.”

Eve assessed her grim situation. The brush around the house was ablaze. She glanced in the rearview mirror. The road behind her was a wall of flame, burning trees falling across the roadway, kicking up blasts of embers. It was impassable. She remembered the field behind the house and, behind it, the rocky hillside, but it was all hidden by a curtain of smoke. Was it already on fire?