Chapter 11 #2
I shake my head, but my stomach protests my response, releasing a growl.
Jeez. I haven’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday.
Yet I also don’t want to consume anything they offer me.
I mull it over for a second, my eyes darting around the room while she waits, so I don’t have to look her in the eye.
She starts to hum a tune.
“Maybe,” I say.
She gives a contented smile and turns, heading back down the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”
When she gets down the stairs, a bit of hope festers that she’ll be so immersed in her mission to feed me that she forgets to lock the door. Of course I’m wrong. It closes, followed by a click that makes my stomach drop. I set the fork on the dresser and drop myself on the edge of the bed.
Waiting.
Waiting.
And flipping waiting because there’s nothing else to do.
When I start to think she’s forgotten about me, the door opens again. She walks up the stairs with a plate in each hand and two bottles of water tucked under her arms.
The smell of baked crust and melted cheese wafts through the room, and I hastily sit up in response.
She hands me a plate, placing the two water bottles on the comforter before she crawls up on the other end of my bed. She sits across from me, crisscrossed with her plate in her lap as if we’re best friends about to share secrets, and blah, blah, blah.
She’s not my friend.
I’m here against my will.
She picks up the slice of pizza on her plate and folds it in half, smiling at me before putting it in her mouth. Her chewing makes my mouth water.
Fine. You win, Jess.
I eat my pizza—only to fuel myself and have the energy I’ll need to escape. We hang out in the stillness, with only the rain drumming against the roof.
“So, are you the them?” I question suspiciously, swallowing.
Her head tilts back and forth. “Not exactly. But you are here because of me.”
I still, my eyes turning into little slits. “Why, because of you?”
“I start my freshman year at the University of Washington soon. I won’t be here to take care of them anymore while the boys work during the week and take care of the family business.”
Business. Lindenvale Hill Orchard.
She gestures to me using the hand that isn’t holding the slice of pizza. “Hence, why you’re here.”
Not for long.
A thought blooms in my head. The door at the base of the stairs has a gold knob with only a small hole that goes through it. So, I’m assuming that the other side is the flip lock.
I place my pizza plate on the bedside table and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, seeing it’s completely dark outside when I look over my shoulder out the window.
“Thanks for the chat and the food…Jess,” I try to keep the bitterness from my voice, “but I’m exhausted and want to be left alone for a while.”
A melancholy look crosses her features, and she nods.
She’s a nice girl. I’ll give her that. But I’m not going to make friends with the sister of two—three if you count whoever Colten is—sociopaths who belong behind bars. And from what I’ve heard, she already has one family member in prison.
“Okay,” she sighs. “I’ll leave you alone for the night.” She crawls off the bed with her plate, gets to her feet, and grabs one of the water bottles off the bed, leaving the other as she walks to the top of the stairs and pauses, looking back at me. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Not a chance in hell.
I give her a fake grin, and she leaves me alone, the lock once again clicking into place.
Waiting a few seconds, her footsteps retreat down the hall until there’s only the sound of my breathing. Leaping off the bed frantically, I move to the center of the room, peering around for what I’m looking for.
Everyone should be asleep in a few hours, the perfect time to make my escape.
“Think, Taryn,” I mutter, my eyes darting over the picture frames on the wall with oil paintings of landscapes. I scan the bookcase and the corner of the room with the accent chair.
I grab one of my breasts in each hand, pressing my fingers into my bra, but my heart plummets.
Come on! There must be something.
But then, my gaze lands on the bedside lamp with three thin pieces of wire on the top of the shade that connect in the middle. It shines like the heavens opened, and I might not be completely screwed after all.
“Aha!”
Reaching for the lamp, I unscrew the bulb, remove the shade, and sit on the edge of the bed, ripping the white fabric. I twist, turn, and bend the wiring, my breathing turning erratic when a bark turns every muscle in my body rigid.
It happens again, making the backs of my eyes sting.
I’d know that bark anywhere.
I drop the lampshade to the mattress, the pads of my feet pounding across the floor to the window at the back of the room that faces the backyard.
Nighttime is fully blanketing the house now. The sky is still enclosed in a thick layer of clouds, only letting a small sliver of silver moon peek through here and there.
My eyes frantically scan the hill that drops down to the part of the yard that flattens out to the cabin.
The curtains are still drawn, so I can’t see inside the large windows.
The grass and the sidewalk leading to the front door are illuminated by lights on the exterior part of the house and posts in the garden.
But then I see it. A figure in jeans and a gray sweatshirt with their hood up strolls down the sidewalk to the house, carrying a linked chain in one hand and a rope in the other.
But it’s not just any rope—a rope toy.
And sprinting up to them happily, wagging his tail, is a dog.
My. Fucking. Dog.
I clench my fists at my sides, digging my nails into my skin, the sting muted as the hooded stranger throws the toy for Rossco across the yard as they lean over and screw something into the wet grass.
Their hands work hooking up the chain, the whole time keeping their back to me.
A whistle sounds in the air, and Rossco runs back to them, the toy flopping in his mouth.
They grab his collar and secure him to the chain in the yard, scratching behind his ears before shoving their hands into their pockets.
I grit my teeth, smacking one palm against the glass, giving them a look that could kill.
If only it would.
The figure straightens, and I withhold my breath. They glance over their shoulder, their face barely visible in the shadow the hood is casting.
My arms and legs break out in goosebumps. Even though I can’t see their face, I feel their eyes on me.
And when the shadow casted across their features moves, it’s enough to brighten the sinister tilt of their lips. Everything I felt before this is nothing compared to the fear their gaze injects into my veins.