—

When she climbed over the sill and down into that basement, all she’d wanted was a decent pair of shoes and a coat against the cold. Then she’d stuff her pockets with food and start walking. It wasn’t much of a plan. She felt the urgency to flee like a hummingbird in her chest.

She quickly put on an old blue barn coat, even though it didn’t close over her belly, and a pair of men’s winter boots that fit okay with three pairs of socks. Then she started to think about Roy’s money. He’d told her he had a lockbox full of it. A few thousand dollars would make it easier when she finally stopped running.

She gave herself fifteen minutes to search the basement, but there was no cash. She gave herself another fifteen minutes and broke into his old desk, found a metal box in a drawer and cracked that open, too, but the only thing of interest inside was a ring of mixed keys. With another fifteen minutes, she climbed upstairs and unlocked the closets. Still nothing useful.

Not even her old clothes or her old pink backpack, or her mom’s old notebook.

It was simply another way that he demonstrated his ownership of her, she realized. He had taken away everything that belonged to her. Nothing remained.

Except for her baby. Who meant more to her than anything else in the world.

She wondered how long Roy had been gone. What if he came back early? What if he caught her? How would he punish her? The fluttery panic grew in her chest. She needed to get moving. On foot, through the woods, in the cold.

For a moment, she fantasized about finding her daddy’s gun, with its familiar cracked walnut grip. Then it wouldn’t matter when Roy came home. She’d wait in the kitchen. When he walked in the door, she’d point the pistol at his chest.

But somehow she couldn’t quite believe that she’d pull the trigger. He would just look at her with those eyes that somehow knew every thought she’d ever had. He’d hold out his hand for the gun, and she’d give it to him.

If that happened, he wouldn’t have to trap her at the house. She’d be his prisoner no matter where she went. Because he’d own her mind.

No, she told herself. That wasn’t going to happen, none of it.

She looked at the keyring again. She saw car keys. Other, smaller keys.

Maybe she wouldn’t have to walk out of here after all.

One of the smaller keys opened the barn’s padlock. She rolled back the wide upper door and saw Frank’s big blue Jeep alongside Hollywood’s little white hatchback. There was a spare Jeep key on Roy’s big ring, but Hollywood had left his on the seat. He’d always talked about how fast the car was. That made the decision easy.