Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ireheated the rest of the coffee and drank it down. Then I washed out the pot and the pan he’d used to cook the ham. The clean plates and cups I returned to their shelf, then I put another log into the fire. I was plenty warm at the moment, but that wouldn’t last.
My poor, pathetic prisoner hadn’t said a word, but I could tell he was in pain by the way he sucked air between his teeth every now and then.
I had no idea a headbutt could do so much damage, and I felt bad after he’d apologized and said he wouldn’t have followed through.
But it wasn’t like I could believe him. Ever since he’d come through the door that first time, he’d convinced me he was dangerous. I couldn’t be blamed for believing it.
And now, he knew that I could be dangerous too. At the moment, though, the only danger was that I might pee my pants. So I slipped my jacket on, my gaiter and facemask, and slipped back into my boots, ready to squat in the snow if necessary.
I paused at the door. “Hey. You. What’s your name?”
“MacInnis. Kee-un MacInnis.”
“Please tell me, Mr. MacInnis, that you have an outhouse nearby.”
“Oot hoose? Ah, ye mean the privy. Back of the hoos. Be sure to take a cloth along.”
“A cloth?”
“Sure but with this weather, yer arse will freeze to the seat otherwise.”
I grabbed my leg gaiters, braced myself, and ran out into the storm.
The snow was so deep in front of the outhouse door, I couldn’t open it.
And if I could, there was a solid frame of ice covering the seam that I didn’t have time for.
So, I hurried around behind the little building, pulled down my two layers of pants, and squatted over a low drift that was even lower when I was finished.
The wind, thankfully, blew steadily in one direction. Other than a few giant snowflakes now frozen to my butt, I survived it.
At the last minute, I decided to take another look inside the barn before returning to the house.
I’d torn the latter apart looking for any sign of the twenty-first century and found nothing.
And if he kept his Uggs and jeans and other things in the barn, maybe I’d find a little blue flashlight out there too.
Then I would know, for sure, if he’d been the one to lead me here.
When I’d come looking for my things, I’d noticed the plaid of dark green with blue lines hanging up and half a dozen hides propped up to dry. I saw where he’d built his fire, and where that little sled had ended up. It still had fifty-pound bags piled on it. The one on top was marked wheat.
Smaller bags were labeled sugar and coffee. There was a sack of tea and one marked salt. No fancy logos. Just practical packaging that would keep the water out. I snooped inside a white cloth sack and found a jar of berry preserves, some hot sauce, and brown sauce, whatever that was.
But no little blue flashlight. No pocket laser. No lantern with blue glass.
And thankfully, there were no signs that anyone had been tied up and kept hostage.
No collection of clothes from previous victims. The image of that row of houses came to mind, but I sure as hell wouldn’t be searching those.
Already, my fingers threatened to break off if I didn’t get back to that precious stove.
I was prepared to apologize as soon as I opened the door but decided to thaw out first. MacInnis was silent while I took my time removing my jacket, ski mask, and boots.
I opened the stove door, flipped the log over, and left it open.
Then I rubbed my hands so violently that I barely heard him mumbling.
“Sorry, what?”
“That pan. The deep one, sittin’ on the floor. Will ye bring it to me?”
I picked it up. It was the pan I’d filled with snow for melting.
“Why?”
“Because I’d rather not piss me own bed.”
I’d drunk water from that bucket. But it hadn’t been on the floor then. Surely, he didn’t usually… But then again, in the middle of the night, I certainly wouldn’t want to go out into the cold.
I groaned and considered barfing in it before I handed it over. Then I was distracted by the minor detail that he couldn’t very well pee in it by himself! And I certainly wouldn’t be…uh…holding anything for him!
“Miss Gaines?”
“Not Gaines,” I corrected. Then a gut check. “Not anymore. Just Matty.”
“Lass! The urgency grows, aye?”
“Fine!” I hurried to the opposite wall and took a small hatchet from its hook. Then I hustled to the head of the bed while he watched every step through the slit of his swollen black eyes. “Wha do ye intend to do w’ tha’?”
“Free your hands.”
“Nay, lass. Dinnae cut it. Rope is too precious.”
I set the hatchet on the floor and tugged at the knots. Judging from how tight they’d become, I knew he’d been trying to get free while I’d been outside.
“The belt, woman. Release the belt and I can see to m’ hands.”
I’d already decided he wasn’t some serial murderer, some spider luring victims to his web. Keeping him tied up was just mean, and I’d been mean enough already.
It took so little effort to free him from the headboard, that he seemed disgusted that he’d failed to escape on his own. Freeing his feet was just as quick.
He sat up and turned his attention to the knots at his wrists, but he couldn’t see well enough to pull them apart.
“Fine. Use the hatchet. But dinnae make me bleed again, I beg ye.” He held his hands between his knees while I sawed at the little fibers, careful not to do so near his skin.
“I give ye my word I’ll come straight back—”
“It’s okay. I changed my mind. I don’t think you tricked me here. And I don’t think you’ll hurt me.”
The last of the fibers gave way and his hands came apart.
“Ye changed yer mind?” He jumped to his feet and rushed to the door but paused. “Just how long did ye intend to keep me lyin’ there, then?”
“Go!”