Ben’s round face looked even more puffed up than it had been; he was taking the accusation personally. “I didn’t really…”

But Rhyme wasn’t even listening. There was no one to blame but himself for this lapse. Someone had told him about the quarry—Henry Davett, when he’d said that limestone was big business in the area at one time. How else do companies produce commercial limestone? Rhyme should’ve asked about a quarry as soon as he’d heard that. And the nitrates weren’t from pipe bombs at all but from blasting out rock—that kind of residue would last for decades.

He said into the phone, “There’s an abandoned quarry not far from you. To the southwest.”

A pause. Faint words. She said, “Jesse knows about it.”

“Garrett was there. I don’t know if he still is. So be careful. And remember he may not be leaving bombs but he’s rigging traps. Call me when you find something.”

Now that Lydia was away from the Outside and wasn’t as sick from heat and exhaustion, she realized that she had the Inside to contend with. And that was proving to be just as frightening.

Her captor would pace for a while, look out the window, then squat on his haunches, clicking his fingernails and muttering to himself, looking over her body, then go back to pacing. Once, Garrett glanced down at the floor of the mill and picked up something. He slipped it into his mouth, chewed hungrily. She wondered if it was an insect and the thought of this nearly made her vomit.

They were in what seemed to have been the office of the mill. From here she could look down a corridor, partly burnt in the fire, to another series of rooms—probably the grain storage and the grinding rooms. Brilliant afternoon light flowed through the burnt-out walls and ceiling of the hallway.

Something orange caught her eye. She squinted and saw bags of Doritos. Also Cape Cod potato chips. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. And more of those Planters peanut butter and cheese cracker packages he’d had at the quarry. Sodas and Deer Park water. She hadn’t seen them when they first entered the mill.

Why all this food? How long would they be staying here? Garrett had said just for the night but there were enough provisions for a month’s stay. Was he going to keep her here longer than he’d originally told her?

Lydia asked, “Is Mary Beth all right? Have you hurt her?”

“Oh, yeah, like I’m going to hurt her,” he said sarcastically. “I don’t think so.” Lydia turned away and studied the shafts of light piercing the remains of the corridor. From beyond it came a squeaking sound—the revolving millstone, she guessed.