When he’d found the keys, Jessie still sat in the same position, staring out into space. He straddled the seat and put her in front of him, and she leaned against him limply. It was difficult to pull the cord in that position, but he managed several quick jerks. Nothing happened. Jesus, please start, he thought, and yanked the cord again. The engine coughed, and then nothing.

Finally, he remembered the choke.

He pulled up on the little knob in the center of the dash, took a deep breath, and grabbed the cord. Come on, you son of a bitch.

The engine roared to life, and he grabbed Jessie tight. He had to get help.

They sped out of the sheltered cove and into the weakening storm.

CHAPTER FORTY

Helen came to, one slow piece at a time.

Her first thought was pain. Deep, throbbing pain lighting up and down every nerve in her body from her head to the tips of her toes. No, not quite the tips; those still felt as dead and numb as the piece of plastic that had provided her ultimate salvation. And her fingers too. She tried to wiggle them one at a time and found she couldn’t tell whether they were moving or not.

It was dark in the front hall near the living room, and for several moments she was not sure where she was, or what had happened. Then it all came flooding back—the attack and waking up in her prison cell. And her father, yes, her father had come for her. She looked around quickly, but saw no one. Just a dream, she thought, nothing more than that.

And the shelves. She remembered them as her salvation as well as the thin, otherwise useless piece of garden tool she had used as a hammer. More specifically, the shelf braces. Whoever decided to use metal instead of wood deserves a big, sloppy kiss, she thought, and smiled thinly. Yes, there was still pain, a lot of it, but at least her head was clear again. She felt as soldiers must feel coming home from a long battle. Exhausted but whole, more or less. She wondered what time it was, and judged by the faint light coming through the living room windows that it was late afternoon, though the storm made it hard to tell. How long was I out? One, maybe two hours?

Then she thought of Jessie and felt panic tighten the back of her throat. Her daughter was still out there somewhere.

She tried to move from underneath the thick rug and felt a dizzying pain shoot out below her left knee. Only then did she remember the fall she had taken on the deck steps outside. Oh, please don’t let it be broken, please.