A game of dodgeball was in full swing when Sara opened the door to the school gym. There was no way to be subtle about her entry when she was soaked to the skin and wearing a prairie dress. Her ugly shoes squawked and slapped, the echo of her presence reverberating off the walls. Even the twitter of laughter and the smack of the ball against flesh couldn’t diminish the sound of her passage. All eyes focused on her, exactly what she hoped wouldn’t happen. She smiled, shrugged her shoulders like she was one of them and then hustled toward the dressing room.
The supply locker was located inside the cheerleading coach’s office. It was separated by a tiny hall catty-corner to the dressing room. She prayed the coach was off coaching somewhere, but she wasn’t. Sara dropped to a squat in front of the small window and uttered a silent curse. The coach spoke with a cheerleader, and the chirp of the girl’s perky voice set Sara’s teeth on edge. She squatwalked into the dressing room, grabbing the first towel she saw to mop off her face and body.
An abundance of normal, everyday clothes were strewn on benches throughout the locker room, giving Sara an idea. She peeled off her soaking dress and her stockings. Her hands shook as she removed the sacred undergarments. Without them she was not protected from the evils of the outside world, but in reality, they hadn’t protected her from the evils within. The shield had failed them. She let the garment fall to the ground.
She settled on a pair of blue jeans that looked longer than most. They were baggy and short, but they felt perfect. With panicky intakes of breath, she pulled on a soft blue sweatshirt with the word “GAP” written on it. She snagged a similar outfit for Rachel and stuffed it into her bulging backpack.
Sara returned to her post to listen. They were still talking. She decided she couldn’t waste another minute. If they didn’t leave by the time she counted to one hundred, she would have to do something drastic. On forty-nine, the door opened. The chirpy girl laughed before prancing back to the gymnasium. Only one set of feet had exited, which meant the coach was still in her office. Without gaining access to the supply room, she stood no chance of overpowering Abe. She needed to act now.
She darted out of the locker room and reached for the fire alarm directly next to the coach’s office. Sara pulled it.
The sound was deafening. She shot back into the locker room and waited a few seconds to ensure that the coach had exited her office. She pushed her way inside, crossed the room in four steps and grabbed the handle to the supply closet. It was locked. Her eyes scoped the desk for keys. Nothing.
She jerked open the first drawer, shuffling around. Nothing remotely resembling a key was in it. Then her eyes fell upon a neck band bearing an old photo ID of Coach Clarkson. She snagged it, grateful for her detective-novel education, and wedged the card between the doorjamb and lock. Immediately the knob turned.
Sara selected the thickest baseball bat and smacked it against the palm of her hand to verify its strength.
Satisfied, she pulled the top of her pants away from her stomach and slid the bat along her right leg. Arranging the sweatshirt over her waistband, she moved stiff-legged out of the small room.
Moving in step with the swell of kids gathering at the emergencyexit doors, Sara hobbled to the nearest exit. Students bunched there, not wanting to go outside with torrents of rain pummeling the earth. No one took the alarm seriously, and they didn’t want to get drenched for a “fire drill.” Someone did a cartwheel, while another girl shot off a handspring. Fire trucks clanged in the distance. Sara struggled to squeeze past, but the students weren’t budging.
Terrified some girl would recognize her clothes, or notice the odd cylindrical object pressed inside her pant leg, Sara screeched, “Move it! There’s a huge fire in the locker room.”
Some boy said, “Cool.”
Another student screamed, starting the stampede. The momentum propelled her forward until she burst through the doorway. Kids were running. Some were screaming. Sara moved in the opposite direction. With one hand still clasping the top of the bat down her pant leg, and the other clenching the strap of her backpack, she hustled awkwardly to the road.
Rain needled her face and chilled her skin. She hobbled and shivered to the highway. Her vision was partially obscured by the relentless drops.
The Traveler’s Nest was an old hotel with a weathered, missionstyle façade painted mustard yellow with burnt orange trimming. She stepped beneath the portico and removed the bat from her pant leg, stashing it behind one of the ceramic pots that framed the entranceway. She opened the door and swiped her feet on the interior mat.
The clerk was slouched on a stool, hands wrapped around an electronic game. He was flour-faced and bored looking with an angry rash of acne that skirted his cheeks. Sara prayed that his age would work to her advantage. Thank God she’d stolen normal clothes or she would never be able to pull this off.
“Dang, get a little wet out there?”
Sara laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard in her life. “I’ll be glad to get in the room and dry off.”
“We don’t get rain like this much.”
“That so?” Sara approached the counter and gave him her warmest smile.
“Uh-huh. Plenty of snow, though. If you’re around here in the winter.”
“I hear the skiing’s pretty good in Utah.”
“Oh yeah, we got some great resorts, just none here.”
“That’s too bad.” Technically, she knew how to flirt from her paperback education, but the reality was much more difficult.
“So what are you doing out in this weather?”
“I thought I’d check out the town before I got caught in the rain. My dad said he’d leave me a key.”
He frowned. “I didn’t get a key, and I’ve been here all day.”
“Could you check?”
“Sure. What room?”
“Room . . . oh . . . what room was it that he told me? That rain soaked more than my clothes.”
A look went across his face. She’d seen that same look in men’s eyes when they noticed Rachel. Seizing the opportunity, Sara swallowed her revulsion and said, “I’ll be glad to get these off.”
His eyes dropped south before flicking up with the realization that she was looking at him. “What room was it again?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Name?”
Her fleeting cool exterior crumbled. Sara panicked. What if her father had used a fake name? “I’m Sara . . . Shaw.”
He clicked on the keyboard. “There’s an Abraham Shaw in twofourteen.”
She sighed audibly. “That’s him. That’s my father.” She could tell that she was losing him, and she still needed the key. “So, what’s your name?”
“Dale Walters.”
“What time do you get off?”
His eyes widened and a smile crimped his mouth. “Around six. You want to hang or something?”
“Why don’t you get me the key, and I’ll get cleaned up and come down around six.” She sounded like a character in one of her stolen novels.
He licked the corners of his mouth then reached below the counter to extract a key. “Sounds good. I’ll see you at six, Sara.”
Sara took the key and tucked it quickly into her pocket, hoping to stabilize the shaking that had crept into her fingers.
Her eyes immediately found Abe’s weathered truck, and the reality of seeing it punched her in the gut. She gasped, nearly doubling over before regaining her composure. Spinning around, she scanned the parking lot for Irvin. Where was he? A bright maroon Buick parked near the second stairwell was the only other car. A blade of fear flayed her resolve. Tears hit her cheeks, surprising her with their force. How would she pull this off?
The drapes were closed tightly on room 214. A rectangle of wet paper with a welcome message was plastered against the railing. Dread dug spurs into her chest as Sara slipped the key into the hole and pushed in. The door slammed closed behind her.
Everything seemed to disappear in the room except for the sight of her father. His skinny muscles bunched along his back and shoulders as he lifted himself off her sister. His limbs uncoiled as he raised his arms to ward off the blow. She shot across the room like an unleashed rubber band and brought the bat down on him, listening to the splinter of bones.
He let out a sick howl and cradled his broken arm. This changed to a yell of surprise as she lifted the bat to finish the job. Toppling backward off the bed to avoid the blow, he landed in a crouch.
“Sara, no!”
Sara heard Rachel’s words and lost her nerve. Abraham darted away from her aborted swing; his legs caught on a jumble of bedding. He reached out to catch himself as he fell. His broken arm took the brunt of the fall. Jagged bone ripped through the flesh of his forearm. He crumpled to the floor and didn’t move.
“You killed him,” Rachel said flatly.
His chest rose and fell. “No, he just fainted.” Sara couldn’t look at her sister, at her nakedness. “Quick. Go clean up. We have to get out of here.”
Rachel didn’t move. “Oh my God, you killed him.”
“No. Look, he’s breathing.” Sara panted, pointing with the tip of her bat at the rise and fall of his chest. “We have to leave.”
Rachel said nothing. Even after what he did to her, Sara didn’t know if Rachel would go. Finally Rachel leaned toward the floor, reaching for her torn shield.
Sara hadn’t noticed the undergarments before. Even she was shocked. He must have gone crazy. It was forbidden to remove the shields except for bathing. Even to consummate a marriage, the garments must remain on.
“No, Rachel. If he defiled the sacred undergarments, he doesn’t believe. Leave them.” Sara transferred the bat to one hand and slipped her pack off. She removed the small bundle of clothes. “Put these on.”
Rachel didn’t move. She pressed her ripped garments to her chest.
“Put these on.” Her pitch teetered on hysterical.
Rachel’s eyes glided back and forth in their sockets.
“Rachel!” She didn’t seem to hear. Trying not to panic completely, Sara nudged her sister with the bundle. Rachel blinked. When she looked at Sara, her gaze was steady. Sara gently loosened Rachel’s grip and slid the garments from her fingers. She pressed the clothes into her hands. “Put these on instead. Okay?”
Rachel reached for the clothes and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Sara expelled her breath. She couldn’t worry about what she’d just seen, not yet anyway. Reshouldering her backpack, Sara continued to watch her father, the man she’d nearly killed.
Darting her eyes about the room, Sara noticed his pants partially obscured beneath the bed. She hooked them with her left foot without taking her eyes off his body. Bending her leg, she forked them up into her right hand and wedged them against the bat. She fished in his pockets. The front right pocket held his car keys. Looping a finger around them, she continued searching the other one. She removed a Swiss Army knife and nestled both keys and knife into her left hand to slip them into her own back pocket.
Abraham still had not moved. The diameter of the bloodstain was widening. She pushed the thought that he might bleed to death from her mind as her finger crawled around to his back pocket. Slipping his wallet out, Sara let the pants drop to the floor. It was a Velcro wallet and when she pulled it open, the ripping sound sent a shock wave to her already skittish nervous system. Guilt suffused her as she lifted the bills from it. Three crisp twenties were inside. She thought about putting the cash back, for the sake of the little ones, but she couldn’t. Surely, the cost of her sister’s innocence was worth more than this. These twenties were probably the bills that he intended to use to pay for this room once he was finished raping her.
Rachel emerged from the bathroom, holding her arms away from her body as though dripping wet. “Where did you get these?”
“A friend from school. It’s okay, Rachel, they’re just clothes.” Her arms and face were a fiery red. It looked as though she had scrubbed the top layer of skin off. “You okay?” Sara flushed at the profoundly stupid question.
Rachel shrugged before settling her eyes on Abraham.
“He’s beginning to stir a bit. We need to go.”
Abraham moaned. She snatched up the bat and wielded it over his form. His eyelids were fluttering. “Go.” Sara motioned toward the door with her head.
Rachel was deathly white. “Don’t hurt him anymore.”
“I’m not going to.” Sara stepped away from him and backed toward the door. Rachel opened it. Sara charged past her, poking her head out to look both ways. It was clear. She closed the door on their father.
Rushing down the stairwell with Rachel close behind, Sara ducked her head as they stepped into the downpour. Sara led Rachel to the truck.
“We can’t take his truck.”
Sara unlocked the door. “We have no choice. We don’t have enough money for bus tickets.” Sara sloshed onto the seat, tossed the bat behind the seat and rammed her backpack onto the floor of the passenger’s side. “Get in.”
Rachel stood beside the driver’s door, not moving. “You don’t drive.”
“I’ve watched.”
“He’ll call the police.”
“No, he won’t. Get in.” Sara slid the key into the ignition.
Rachel walked around to the passenger side and opened the door. “Yes, he will.”
Sara leaned over to look at her. “He won’t because if we get caught, we’ll tell the police what he did. He’s not stupid.”
“What if they don’t believe us?”
“They will.”
Rachel snuffled. “I can’t leave.” She was wringing her hands and biting her bottom lip. Rain dripped off her bangs, sending tears of water down her face. “Not without Luke. And Alice.”
“Get in. We’ll go find Luke right now.”
“What about Alice?”
“We’ll come back for her. I promise.”
“But . . . what if we don’t get back in time?”
“Rachel, did Abe hurt you when you were a little girl?”
Rachel shook her head slowly.
“Then he won’t hurt Alice.” Sara resisted the urge to shove Rachel into the truck. She glanced up at room 214. No signs of life. She cringed from the thought that she might have killed him. Or hadn’t. Which was worse?
Rachel’s eyes rolled up again, watching the show on her forehead. Sara raced around the car and gently guided her sister into the seat. She buckled the seat belt, closed the door and returned to the driver’s side.
“You’re safe with Luke and me. Let’s go get him.”
At the mention of his name, Rachel’s eyes cleared. “You know where he is?”
“He’s in Lufkin. I’ll tell you all about it later. We just have to get out of here first.”
Turning the key, she jerked in surprise when the engine responded. Examining the dash, she found the icon for the wipers and pressed them on. Thankfully, the rain wasn’t quite as ferocious as it had been when she arrived. Spinning around to peer out the rear window, she scanned the lot for Irvin. If he didn’t arrive in the next minute or two, she would have no choice but to leave.
Her heart twisted at the thought of never seeing Irvin again. If Abe regained consciousness, who knows what he would do. He could call the prophet for help. That terrified her.
Putting the car in reverse, she eased her foot off the brake and onto the accelerator. The car jerked backward, startling her so badly that she slammed the brakes. The engine died. “It’s okay. I just need to get a feel for it.”
Restarting the car, Sara crawled a few feet backward before shifting into drive. The car jerked and sputtered. They surged forward as she maneuvered out of the parking lot. She wondered if Irvin had changed his mind. She blinked a few tears away and turned around to face the road. Sara merged onto the highway, gripping the wheel as though she intended to wrestle it to the ground. Her fingers ached. Cars whizzed by them.
Nudging her foot down a bit on the accelerator, she brought the speed up to a whopping thirty-five miles per hour. A semi bore down on them. It switched lanes and shot past them with a long, annoyed blast from his horn. Sara pushed on the pedal and held her breath as the speedometer rose to fifty-five. “There. I’m not going any faster.”
“Do you swear about Alice?”
“I swear.” It sickened her to lie to Rachel. She thought of baby Alice and her soft, pudgy cheeks and gummy smile. Her eyes filled with tears. Maybe they could do something for Alice. “Listen, Rachel, the mothers are going to be extra careful in protecting the kids now that we’ve left. Whatever Abe tells them, they won’t believe him. Not completely. They’ll know deep in their hearts that he did something to drive us away.” More lies. She knew his wives would never question whatever worm-infested garbage crawled out of his mouth.
“You think so?”
“I know so. I think the kids’ lives will dramatically improve.” Please God, let that be true.
“Maybe.” Rachel curled against the window and began ripping a cuticle.
She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach as they drove to Lufkin. She didn’t want to think about them or worry about them, but now it was too late. Rachel had planted the idea in Sara’s narrow, self-interested brain. She would be forced to acknowledge their loss. “Look, I’ll figure something out. Maybe when we get settled, we’ll come get them all.”
Rachel said nothing for several minutes, choosing to look out the window instead.
“How did you know Father had taken me to the hotel?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“A dream. I saw it in a dream.” The lie rolled from her lips. Sara didn’t understand what motivated her to say that.
“A dream?”
“Well, more like a vision. I think your guardian angel sent me.”
As Sara turned onto the exit for Lufkin, her anxiety notched up. Why hadn’t she asked Luke where he was staying? Now, it would be nothing short of a miracle finding him. And though the day had been filled with strange miracles and awful realities, Sara’s confidence began to flag. She paused at the end of the exit ramp, trying to decide which direction she should turn.
Rachel watched her hesitation. “You do know where he is? Don’t you?” Her voice rose slightly.
“Um . . . well, not the exact location. But he’s camping out at some construction site in town. We’ll go to every site and ask. Somebody’s got to know him. Don’t worry.”
The rain tapered to a lazy drizzle, making driving slightly less nerve-wracking. Sara turned right at the first intersection. Cresting a hill, she saw tiny unpainted homes with clay-colored trims that seemed to tilt depressingly, as though they hadn’t the heart to keep standing straight.
The quality of the stores changed from pawnshops and a small used-car dealership to drug stores, photography studios and a florist ringed by a quartet of furry pines. By the time they arrived at Wal-Mart, Sara hadn’t seen a single business under construction. She drove through the center of town with a sinking heart. Swiveling her neck back and forth, she looked for a road that held promise, when she noticed a framed building with a sign reading FUTURE HOME OF LUFKIN SAVINGS AND LOAN.
“That’s it!” Sara signaled a turn. The light changed. Sara pulled the truck into the parking lot. Thank God.
“I’ll run in and ask if he’s here,” Sara said. “Are you going to be okay?”
Rachel nodded, studying her hands that lay on her lap like they belonged on a corpse.
“Okay then,” Sara said after a few seconds of waiting for a reply. “I’ll be right back.” She climbed out, rushed to the trailer and knocked once.
“Door’s open,” a male voice said.
Sara entered. A large folding table held a slew of papers, some rolled and held together with rubber bands, others spread flat. The man sat behind the table, with his feet up and a portable computer perched on his lap. He squinted at her through eyes that were wind-weathered and permanently bruised from the blinding glare of working outside. “Can I help you with something?”
“I’m looking for a friend who works construction. His name is Luke Wilkinson, and I was wondering—”
“I know him all right. I hired him just to put a thorn in his daddy’s side. Nice enough kid though.”
“Took off this morning. Said he was splitting town.”
Sara felt the wind leave her body.
Spinning on her heel, she rushed to the door. The man’s warbled voice followed behind. Her hands shook so badly that she could barely turn the key in the ignition. Sara pulled blindly out into the road. A horn blasted behind her as the car cut a sharp left to avoid hitting them.
Sara gripped the wheel with both hands and slowed to a crawl. Fear glued her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Numbness dissolved her lips.
“Did you find Luke?”
“Wait. I need to concentrate,” Sara managed to say. She turned at the intersection and headed toward Main. They drove in silence until she ramped onto the highway. “He’s gone, Rachel. I have no idea where he is. He’s just gone.”
A scream ripped through the car, shaking Sara from her guilty stupor.
“Nooo!”
The word was filled with such soul-grinding pain that Sara’s teeth snapped together. She nearly doubled over onto the steering wheel. “I’m so sorry.”
“Please. I can’t go without him.”
“I know . . . just let me think. Irvin will help.” Sara glanced at her sister. She held her head in her hands and rocked back and forth, keening her grief.
“You’ve got to listen to me. I promise we’ll find him. I gave Luke Irvin’s number—” As soon as she said that, she realized her mistake. “Oh no!”
“What?” Rachel sniffled.
“We wrote the number down, but forgot to give it to Luke.”
“I can’t leave Luke behind, Sara. I just can’t.”
“It’s way too dangerous to stay here. Abe will tell Silver that you ran away. He’ll search every corner of hell to find you. I’ll call Irvin and tell him to go to the woods on Saturday. He’ll tell Luke where we are.”
“Let’s do it now before we leave. Just to be sure.”
Sara realized with a sinking heart that she didn’t have Irvin’s phone number either. A sign flashed on the highway indicating the exit for Centennial. She had unknowingly returned. Maybe fate guided her here for a reason. Risk everything by driving within a mile of home or drive past the exit and never return?
The exit ramp was only a few hundred feet ahead. Sara took the exit. Absolutely nothing she did today was sane or rational, so why start now? “We’ll have to go to his house. I don’t have his number either.”
Rachel dropped her gaze to her hands. “Thank you.”
A knot shimmied up her throat. She owed at least that much to her sister and to Irvin, even though he must have changed his mind about leaving with them.
There was no influx of emergency vehicles outside that repulsive hotel. She didn’t see their van indicating a wife was there either. Gripping the wheel tightly and breathing slowly through her mouth, she kept her eyes locked straight ahead and willed Rachel to keep her own down. Thankfully, she did.
After passing the hotel, she took the first right turn. Sara’s heart crawled into her throat. This was their road. Any second one of her mothers could come barreling down it at breakneck speed and discover them in his car. Marylee would kill them. It wouldn’t matter that her husband had just raped her daughter.
Sara noticed a figure walking up ahead on the side of the road with a camping pack on his back and two sleeping bags under each arm. Sara used both feet to jump on the brake and the result was an abrupt halt.
Irvin spun around with a look of fear across his face. Shielding his eyes, he peered into the cab. “That’s Irvin!” Sara said. She waved, watching as his face lit up with recognition.
“He’s coming toward us.” Rachel backed into the seat as though she wanted to crawl into it.
Sara put her hand on Rachel to steady her. “He’s going to help us, remember?”
The truck thumped as Irvin unloaded his packs into the rear of the cab. He came around to the passenger side.
Rachel scrambled over the seat, plastering herself against Sara. Sara felt the quiver of fear pulsing through her sister’s body.
“It’s okay. I trust Irvin. Don’t be scared,” Sara whispered to the back of her sister’s head.
The door opened and Irvin climbed in. He pulled it closed behind him and turned to face them.
“I’m sorry, Irvin. We couldn’t wait.”
“Couldn’t wait,” he repeated. His face was taut with anxiety. He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling his explanation. Reaching across Rachel, he shoved it under Sara’s nose. His mother had come home early from work because she had a dental appointment. He had to sneak out when she got a phone call.
Sara suddenly remembered the lie she’d told her sister about the guardian angel leading her to Rachel. And here was Irvin with his bags packed and ready to go. She swallowed hard, regretting that she hadn’t had the courage to tell Rachel the truth in the first place. She’d have to let Irvin discreetly know what was going on. Clearing her throat, Sara began. “Rachel, this is Irvin. And Irvin, this is Rachel.”
“This is Rachel,” Irvin repeated, smiling.
At least she’d had the foresight to tell Rachel about his echoing problem. She continued. “Irvin had the same vision I did . . . and we met up on the road. He wanted to leave with us.”
Irvin’s smile dulled a notch as he processed her words.
Sara winked and nodded at him since Rachel kept her chin glued to her collar. Sara jerked the wheel around. The truck issued a grating, high-pitched squall as she hopped on the highway, intending to tell Irvin about the change in plans before dropping him off at the next available exit.
“Okay, here’s the situation. Irvin, we have a huge problem.” Sara rushed her words so that he wouldn’t have to parrot everything back. “As you know, Luke was planning on meeting us on Saturday in the woods. Obviously, plans have been changed, and we have to leave right this minute. I know you want to leave with us . . .”
Something caught her eye in the rearview mirror: a flash of chrome, the plastic-encased revolving lights. Sara’s heart punched her chest as though it were a pair of fists. “Don’t turn around, but there’s a cop car behind us.”
“Cop car behind us,” Irvin repeated.
Rachel quaked as she pressed her body tightly against Sara. Glancing at the speedometer, she accelerated to fifty-five, not wanting to attract attention by driving too slowly.
They passed several exits before entering Lufkin’s city limits in silence. The northbound traffic went teeming past them, while the southbound traffic slowed in pace with the cruiser. Sara’s hands cramped from her death grip on the wheel. Rivulets of sweat coursed her forehead, dropping in her ears with stinging regularity.
The cop car stayed directly behind them. She kept waiting for the lights to rotate, the sirens to scream. The highway in front of them emptied of traffic, but the cars and trucks stacked behind them like a funeral procession. No one had the courage to pass the trooper. Sara set the pace at fifty-five. They couldn’t return now. Once again, fate dictated the direction of their future. Perhaps the police car behind her was a sign not to return. She had no choice but to keep going.