Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Kylie
Her phone battery was down to thirty-one percent when she heard the roar of an engine, then the slow, steady thrum of one slowing down. It sounded very close to the donation bin. Then it stopped. She could hear two car doors open, then close.
“Kylie?” Luke shouted from outside, muffled but here. He kept his promise. He came back. Not that she really doubted it, but...
She knocked on the metal wall. “Still here!”
“You okay?”
“Other than being cold and needing to pee, yes!”
“Daddy? Who’s that?”
Daddy?
Bang bang bang
To her right, Luke knocked on the wall.
“Kylie? There’s a door here. It’s padlocked. I’m using the bolt cutters to snip it, then I’ll open it. Move away, just in case.”
She scooched to the side.
“How do you know how to get me out?”
“I do this all the time.”
“Women with jerk ex-boyfriends who leave their junk in their houses accidentally get stuck in these donation bins frequently?”
“No. Homeless people do, though.”
“Homeless people?”
“Sure. They climb in on purpose. It's warm and safe in there, at least compared to the streets.”
“And prostitutes, of course,” she said loudly. Keeping the acid out of her voice wasn’t possible.
“What’s a prostitute?” The little girl was suddenly in the pull-down door, face and shoulders visible in silhouette, eager dark eyes coming into view as she came toward Kylie, arms outstretched as she began to slowly slide into the bin with her.
She looked exactly like Amber McFarland when they were six, the past slamming into Kylie’s heart like a meteor crashing to Earth.
Dark, wispy curls. Pert nose and deep brown eyes. The funny little crinkle in the space at the bridge of her nose that every McFarland had. Amber was an only child, but she had cousins and her dad, and they all had that genetic quirk.
And then Kylie remembered. That’s right.
Luke had married Amber.
“Harriet! Get down from there. Get off the car!” Kylie heard something heavy drop to the ground, and suddenly the girl, shining excited eyes on Kylie’s, squealed.
“Daddy! My ankles are ticklish! Let me go!”
“Harriet, get out of there.” Luke’s voice was protective, firm, and tight.
And accustomed to being in command.
“You’re hurting me, Daddy!” Kylie saw how Harriet’s ribs were jammed against the lip of the bin’s opening and reached up, standing on the mound of bags, steadying the little girl by holding her under the shoulders. She was too far down for Luke to pull her back up, but he was trying.
Luke paused, voice tight with anger and concern.
“I can’t believe you did this, Harriet. You climbed on the hood of the car! You–”
“Let me go! I want to play with the nice trash lady!”
“Luke, you’re pulling her ribs up. They’re caught on the edge of the slot. I’ve got her,” Kylie called out. “You can let her go. She’s fine with me.”
A grunt. A loud sigh. “You sure?”
“Sure.”
The full weight of her came down, Kylie’s flashlight already turned face down on a bag, but the whuff of their landing on top of the trash bags made the already dark bin even darker.
Giggles echoed everywhere.
Infectious giggles.
“I’m cutting the lock now!” Luke bellowed outside as Kylie scrambled to locate her phone in the near-total darkness.
Harriet gasped. “This is fun! Like having your own playhouse. Who are you? Do you live in here? It’s so cold and dark. What do you eat? Where do you go to the bathroom? Are you a spy?”
Peppered by Luke’s daughter’s questions, Kylie couldn’t help but smile and giggle at the same time.
“Let me find my flashlight, sweetie.”
“My name is Harriet. But Daddy calls me sweetie. Do you know my daddy?”
Ignoring that question, Kylie rolled on her side, the wide poncho caught on her knees, half choking her. She reached down to free herself and her fingers brushed against glass.
Aha. The phone.
Turning it over, she swiped up and pressed the flashlight icon as Luke called out, “Almost there.”
An enormous gasp, ageless with wonder, filled the air as light illuminated her and Harriet.
The little girl looked Kylie up and down, then threw her arms around her neck, screaming, “MOMMY!”