Chapter Forty

Jillie sat on the tool chest, her mind jumping from thought to thought. She had to make herself focus, had to figure out someplace to hide out. The feeling in her stomach was that she was running out of time.

She’d need to stay within walking distance of the Elliotts’ to search the house every day or so. And she needed to be someplace safe and warm.

She’d never had a problem with cold weather, had always enjoyed it. But this frigid weather was beginning to get to her.

There had to be a place…

She rubbed the crust from her burning eyes as her stomach shoved a bad taste up her throat. Her nose ran, and her fingers and toes felt like cubes of ice. Grit and dust from the burlap bags had sifted into her mouth, coating her teeth and throat.

She took a long draw from her bottle and sloshed the water around her mouth. Then she remembered the sleeping bag she’d spotted while doing the Elliotts’ laundry.

Carelessly tossed among the empty jars, piles of plastic shopping bags, smashed boxes, and old magazines that littered the floor, the thing had appeared almost new. If she had to sleep rough for a while, at least she’d sleep warm.

She slipped from the shed and sprinted to the house. She’d just stooped to climb through the basement window when the hole-in-the-exhaust-pipe roar of a pickup sent panic sizzling up her spine.

Wildly, she flung herself through the window. Her frantic mind moving quicker than her feet, she bumped against the open window before dropping against the ladder then bouncing onto the concrete floor beneath, biting her tongue in the process. The resulting thump and clatter echoed into the still air.

Fighting to keep from crying out, Jillie rolled around on the floor, the taste of blood in her mouth. Then she sat up and rubbed her throbbing shins.

“What was that?” Mort’s voice wafted through the open window.

Someone mumbled something unintelligible in response.

“No, it’s not my imagination, Tobes, I heard something.”

“Sometimes you act like a six-year-old girlie-girl,” the person Jillie assumed to be Mort’s cousin Toby said, “afraid of everything that moves.”

“But what if it’s the kid?” Mort said. “What if she came back for revenge?”

“Revenge? What are you talking about?”

“For the way Maggot treated her. You weren’t there; you didn’t see it. And that kid sure took care of Digger pretty good.”

“She couldn’t get away from here fast enough. She’s not going to hurry back any time soon. Come on, I’m starved.”

Frantically, Jillie searched for a place to hide in case the men decided to come to the basement. She hurried to a built-in cabinet against one wall, opened one of its accordion-like doors and stooped to climb into the tiny dark space beneath the counter.

Something small and furry darted out the opening, scampered across her feet, and disappeared into a pile of trash. She clamped a hand over her mouth, but not before she’d let out a small shriek.

Instantly, the door to the basement was flung open.

“Didn’t you hear that?” Mort said, his voice coming from the top of the stairs. “I’m telling you, someone’s in the house…maybe down in the basement.”

Terror clawed up Jillie’s throat, and her heart rate shot into the stratosphere, making her feel like she might pass out.

“Yeah?” Toby said. “Then why don’t you go down into that dark hole and check it out? Be warned, I think a bobcat’s made a nest down there.”

Mort said something Jillie couldn’t hear.

“I thought so,” Toby said. “Come on, we’ve got things to do.”

After one of the men slammed the basement door closed, Jillie’s knees gave way. She sat on the floor and took a deep breath.

A couple of minutes later, pickup doors slammed, an engine fired, and tires spun in the gravel.

Jillie hurried to the corner where she’d spotted the sleeping bag. Tightly rolled up and wrapped in a protective cover, the thing looked inviting. She hefted the bag by its nylon handle, shoved it through the window and then climbed through after it.

Once back inside the shed, she gathered her belongings. She kissed Mickey, stuffed him into her backpack, slung the sleeping bag over one shoulder, and headed for the door.

But again, the crunch of tires on gravel made her freeze mid-step. Vehicle doors creaked open then slammed shut. The cousins’ voices neared the shed.

“Why’d you turn around?” Mort’s voice sounded high and tight. “I thought we were going to find some women and party.”

“No choice,” Toby said. “It has to be done sooner rather than later.”

“But why the wild hair to move it now, after all this time?”

“Because that was your sweet mama on the phone. She said a policeman came out earlier asking questions about the kid and some old woman who’s missing.”

“So?” Mort said.

“Sometimes you remind me so much of your old man it’s not funny. Think about it, if the police don’t find the kid, they’ll be back. And they’ll leave no stone unturned. I don’t know about you, but I have plans that don’t involve doing hard time. And lest you forget, you’ll be right there with me.”

“Where are you going to put it?” Mort’s voice sounded resigned.

“I’m going to rent a storage shed as soon as the place opens this morning.” Toby laughed, an ugly sound. “Don’t worry, cuz, if someone finds out, it’ll be because you can’t stop flapping your gums to impress the girls.”

Mort mumbled something.

Toby laughed. “Come on. The sooner we deal with this, the sooner we can grab something to eat. Hurry up, before your gene pool gets back.”

After several nano-seconds of heart-stopping indecision, Jillie laid her backpack and the sleeping bag on the floor in a corner then slung a couple of burlap bags over them. She dropped to the floor in the opposite corner and pulled one of the bags over her head. A cloud of dust flew in her eyes and up her nose. She pinched her nostrils closed to keep from sneezing, breathed through her mouth, drew herself into a ball. With any luck, she’d look like another bag of mulch.

“This place is creeeeepy.” Mort’s voice coming from just outside the door sounded high-pitched.

Toby laughed. “Afraid of ghosts?” He made a whooo sound.

“Very funny. I’ll wait for you out here.”

“What’s this?” Toby’s voice drew closer as he poked his head through the gaping door and into the shed. “You been spending time here on your own?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Mort’s voice sounded like his throat was about to slam shut.

The door shushed across the dirt-covered floor as someone pushed against it.

“Well, well,” Toby said under his breath. “What have we here?”

“What’d you say?” Mort said from outside the shed.

“Just talking to myself,” Toby said. “Give me a minute.”

“Sure, take all the time you want,” Mort muttered.

“Ho, ho, I spy with my little eye…” Toby sang the child’s rhyme softly, his voice hanging overlong on the s to sound like a snake hissing. “Peek-a-boo, I see you.”

Jillie bit her tongue to keep from screaming as the sound of approaching footsteps moved across the shed and stopped in front of her.