Days had passed, and Leanne was no closer to a solution on how to get her and Gracie out of their prison. The man barely spoke and whatever he did say was often gibberish or meaningless to her. Any attempts to connect or pleas for release were met with grunts or the latching of the deadbolts. And she rarely heard the dog. Just when she’d wonder if something had happened to it, she’d hear it bark.
One positive was the man hadn’t yet laid a hand on them, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. And his moods were growing increasingly sullen. He mumbled a lot when he came in to see them.
Tonight was no different when he brought in plated roast beef with potatoes and carrots.
“Your favorite,” he said to Leanne.
But he had her confused with someone—possibly the Holly or Cheryl he’d mentioned a number of times now. Whoever they were. As for Leanne, she was a vegetarian, a fact she’d reiterated several times, but it never seemed to penetrate. In fact, even the smell of cooked meat sent her stomach tossing.
“Eat.” He waved at them to consume what he’d prepared.
“Let us go, I beg of you,” Leanne pleaded.
In response, he loaded Gracie’s fork with potato and took it to her mouth as an airplane headed for the hanger.
Gracie looked at Leanne, and she nodded at her daughter. It was best to keep him happy. When he was pleased, he treated them kindly. If something triggered his temper, he’d slam the door and bolt all the locks.
“Open the hangar,” he told Gracie, who still hadn’t complied.
“Gracie,” one word from Leanne, and the girl opened her mouth.
Leanne fought off tears. What if he’d poisoned their food? He had drugged them to get their compliance after ice cream. And the last time they’d seen him, he was quaking with rage. He’d called Gracie his little girl, and she refused to call him Daddy.
He leveled a glare at Leanne. “Why are you calling her Gracie? She’s Holly.”
“Spit it out, Gracie! Now!” Leanne yelled.
Gracie did as she was told, as Leanne bolted to her feet and hurled her daughter’s serving across the room. The mashed potatoes clung to the wallpaper and the beef and carrots landed on the carpet.
“What have you done?” More pain than anger was present in his eyes as he looked at Leanne. “I worked on that for hours. For you. Your favorite meal.”
“It’s not my favorite meal,” she spat. Her entire body was vibrating. She’d reached the end of her rope. Enough was enough.
She brandished the steak knife and motioned for her daughter to move behind her. “Stay back, or I swear I’ll—”
He came at her so quickly she had no chance to react. His fist caught her in the jaw and sent her flying to the floor. Pain flashed her vision white, but she mustered her strength and drew up again. She’d kept her hold on the knife and thrust it toward him. She nicked him in the arm, blood staining his shirtsleeve red, but he gave no indication that he’d even felt the blade.
His eyes were pinpointed and cold—a hardened stare that pierced right through her.
She lunged out to slash him again. But he intercepted.
His hand gripped her wrist and he squeezed so hard, she dropped the knife. But he kept his hold fast until the bones in her wrist popped loudly.
Everything went white. The pain excruciating.
She wailed as her daughter cowered in a corner, crying.
“Leave us alone!” Leanne screamed.
“I can’t do that. You know that. Please, Cheryl.” The pendulum swung back. He was calm again. The quick and massive shift in mood sent shivers racing through her. The unpredictability was far more frightening than facing down the devil.
She drew up, peacocking her posture. “I’m not Cheryl. She’s not Holly!”
He blinked, and when his eyes opened, the light in them had dimmed. He’d returned from whatever peaceful place he’d visited. In place of calm was anger again. He looked at the mess she’d made. “Clean that up.”
She stood there cradling her hand as he saw himself out of the room. At the sound of the third lock being turned, she hurried to her daughter and lowered to the floor beside her.
“I will get us out of here somehow. I promise, baby.”
“He hurt you.” Gracie kissed her fingertips and pressed them to the back of Leanne’s hand that cradled her injured wrist.
“He did, but I’ll be all right.” She’d been through hell before, survived broken bones and sprains. The wound he’d inflicted was flesh and blood, but the spirit was stronger than both put together. This thought compelled her back to her feet, and she went to the window.
It was nighttime and there wasn’t much to see—until the door to the small barn opened and a light was turned on. It made it possible for her to see inside. There was a workbench with assorted tools hanging above it, and she spotted the fender of a white car just before he shut the door behind him.
She sank against the window frame, and Gracie came over and hugged into her mother’s side.
“I’m hungry, Mommy, and I want to go home.”
“I know, sweetie.” She ran her good hand through her daughter’s hair, wishing that she was a stronger person, someone for Gracie to look up to. It took Bill raising a hand to Gracie before Leanne had done anything. At least she’d been able to intervene before he struck the girl. One right move as a mother. The fact it had gone that far, though, nipped at her soul. And with it, his taunting words wreaked havoc again. Maybe he’d hit the mark when he’d said she was a stupid, good-for-nothing waste of skin.
Warm tears trickled down her face, but she let them be.
She’d just wanted to prove him wrong, prove everyone wrong, and let them see she was capable of forging ahead on her own and caring for Gracie. She still wanted that so badly, but it was over. Time to admit defeat.
Leanne started to close her eyes, but her gaze landed on the steak knife a few feet away. Had she actually secured a way out for her and her daughter?
She got up, retrieved the knife and returned to the window. Using her good hand, she dipped the tip of the blade into the rotting wood of the sill and dug some out. It might take a while, but if she chipped away, she might be able to pry the bars from the window. Step one.
Step two was making it safely to the ground.
She was looking over the room, and her eyes landed on the beds. Maybe if she tied the sheets together, they’d provide just enough length.
The vision of hope had her working fast. They might get out of here and away from that man after all.