Chapter 27
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Thin sunlight leaks into the room and the first thing I’m aware of is a warm weight on my legs. It takes some effort to open my eyes. Clover is asleep on the couch with me, sprawled across my shins.
Wait. The sun is out! That means the storm’s over. It’s the first time I’ve seen sunlight since I escaped. The relief that floods over me is instant and almost overwhelming, but that feeling is short-lived. Why did I sleep in the living room?
My grogginess drops away as my memory sharpens, and I jerk to sit upright.
Alex drugged my hot chocolate with Valium, or some type of sedative.
Frantically, I pull the cover down to make sure I’m not undressed.
All my clothes are in place, and my body feels normal, not sore or anything. I don’t think he touched me.
The house is stone quiet for a few seconds, then I hear his voice. It’s very faint, coming from his bedroom, maybe? Are the phones back on? If so, I’m calling for help. I’m not sure what game he’s playing or what he has planned for me, but I’m not sticking around to find out.
Clover gives me a sleepy huff when I shift her off my legs. She leaps off the couch and pads into the kitchen, lapping at her water. I’m thirsty too, but first I want to hear what he’s saying.
My whole body is as tight as a fist when I slip off the couch and start down the hall toward his bedroom.
My careful steps don’t make a sound on the floor.
I hear the murmur of him talking again, but it doesn’t come from his bedroom.
It’s coming from the other side of the locked door right beside me.
The room he said was his office. If he isn’t on the phone, someone must be in there with him.
Terror grips me at a sudden thought. Is someone locked inside? Has he drugged another person and been holding them in that room this whole time? It’s not like he’s been in my sight every second. He would’ve had plenty of opportunities to go into that room and keep a person sedated.
I don’t bother to consider why he would do such a thing. I learned long ago that men don’t need a reason other than their desire to own you or control you or hurt you. I take a deep breath and try to quiet my trembling as I press my ear to the door.
I can hear his voice, but words are hard to discern. I think I catch the words no and okay. More inaudible speech is broken by a familiar name. Jane.
Clover starts scooting her empty water bowl around so that it bangs against the wall, which makes a loud racket from the kitchen. He probably heard that. In a panic, I dash back to the couch, lie down, and pull the blanket to my neck.
Clover trots down the hall into Alex’s bedroom a second before he opens the door. With my eyes closed and my back turned, I listen as he locks the office door then walks into the living room.
I roll over, pretending to scrub the sleep from my eyes.
“Good morning,” he says with a smile. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock.” I force a smile onto my face. “The sun’s out.”
“It is. It’s still freezing but the storm has passed.”
Sitting up, I do my best to act like I’m not terrified or suspicious. “Sorry I crashed on the couch. You should’ve woken me up to go to bed.”
“No worries. That couch is comfortable and I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Are the phones back on?” I ask.
“I haven’t checked, but I don’t think it’ll be too much longer now that they can get plows and work crews out.”
I can’t stop myself from pointing out what I heard, but I attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible. “Oh, I thought I heard you talking to someone. I must’ve still been dreaming.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “No, I was just talking to Clover. She dug my clothes out of my laundry basket again.”
Really? The same dog that was in the kitchen the whole time? For a psycho, he isn’t a very good liar.
I laugh, stand up, and stretch. “Why don’t I make some French toast for breakfast?” I won’t be touching anything I don’t see him eat from first, and I’ll be watching my drinks until I can get out of here.
“Sounds great.” He heads back down the hall to his room.
I practically sprint to the kitchen to try the phone, but it’s still dead.
The snow outside the window sparkles under the sunlight, and I marvel at how something can be so beautiful and destructive at the same time.
I should be far away from here by now, possibly in a jail cell, but Troy would be free.
I glance over at the locked door. He wasn’t on the phone before. He couldn’t have been with the lines still down. Either he’s crazy and talking to himself or someone is behind that door. I’m not sure which is more terrifying.
I’m not safe here. I know that now. I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but I have to play along and act normal until I can get away. If he knows I suspect something, I could be locked in that room next. Without a person in the world who knows where I am or knows to look for me.
I turn on some music before I start cooking. As I make breakfast, I keep playing what I heard over and over in my mind. Jane. He said Jane, didn’t he? Or is that only what I thought I heard? Was it just my brain arranging unintelligible syllables into a name I recognize?
No, I swear that’s what he said. It doesn’t have anything to do with my Jane, of course. How could it? It’s a popular name.
It’s the first time I’ve thought of Jane since I left. I killed her husband, and she probably hates me now.
Alex joins me for breakfast. It’s actually lunchtime when we sit down to eat because I slept so late.
Keeping a sleep schedule has never been my strong suit after working nights with Troy then being pulled out of bed at any time the cult needed work done once I was locked up.
Being roofied by the bastard smiling across the table at me didn’t help.
“Do you have a snow shovel or broom I can borrow to dig out my car?” I ask, as I clear our dishes from the table.
He hesitates, rubbing his hand over his chin. “They won’t reach us today. Not that quickly.”
“I know, but it can’t hurt to clear it off, right?” I flash him a bright smile. “I’m feeling a little cabin fever.” I want to get my atlas so I can plan my route out of here.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll go out with you and dig my truck out too.”
We excuse ourselves to put on extra layers of clothes, and I stare at my bedroom door as I dress. I hate that it doesn’t have a lock. I hate that I’ve returned to feeling like I have to watch my back every second. It honestly pisses me off.
It’s still bitterly cold outside, fifteen degrees on the outdoor thermometer, but the wind has stopped. “It feels like a heatwave compared to yesterday,” I remark, trudging slowly through the snow.
He laughs, beaming at me. That’s right, keep on believing I’m too dumb to know you drugged me. Underestimate me the same way Governor Nolan did.
He only has one snow shovel, so he gives me a tool that has a brush on one end and an ice scraper on the other. “I’ll get your tires dug out first while you clear off the top and windows,” he says.
The wind has blown a massive drift over the driver’s side, burying half the car. The passenger side isn’t quite as bad, but it’s still piled a few inches past the bottom of the doors. I start clearing the rear window using the stiff brush.
By the time I have the top, hood, trunk, and windows mostly free of snow, my hands are screaming at me, and I can’t feel my toes at all. A rock sits in my stomach. How am I going to get out of this without freezing to death? What will happen tonight if he tries to drug me again?
All I can do is focus on making a plan. It’s scary because I don’t know exactly where I am or which direction to go.
Alex steps back after shoveling all the way around the car. “Your cheeks are bright red. I don’t need help with my truck. You should go inside and warm up.”
I nod at him, blowing warm air into my gloves. “I will.” As soon as he starts walking up the driveway toward his truck, I yank the passenger side of the car open.
Where’s my atlas? I swear I left it on the passenger seat, but it’s not there. A glance back shows it isn’t on the backseat either. I yank open the glove box and the console, despite them both being too small to hold the large book. Both are empty.
My frozen fingers and feet are forgotten as I yank the seats back and forth to look under them, frantically searching every inch of the car with no luck. There’s no atlas. No maps of any kind.
“Hey, is everything okay?” Alex asks, standing a few feet away when I slam the door.
“Where is it?” I demand, my anger overriding my common sense.
He blinks at me, hesitating for a second. “Where’s what?”
“The atlas I had with me. I left it on the seat. It’s gone.”
His brow dips in confusion. “Maybe you put it in your bag or took it inside with you? I haven’t seen it.”
I didn’t. I know I didn’t but of course he’s going to say that. He took it but confronting him would be crazy. “I must have, but I could’ve sworn I left it here.”
“I’m sure we can find you one at the shop or a gas station in town. Don’t worry.”
“You’re right, it’s easily replaceable. My hands are killing me. I’m going to go inside and put some coffee on.”
“Good idea. I’ll have a cup too and thaw out. My truck can wait until I go out for the goats.”
We trudge up to the house, and I make sure to follow him. I don’t want him to be able to grab me from behind.
I need a weapon, something I can hide. He took my atlas and there’s only one reason for that. I wasn’t imagining the disappointment on his face when I mentioned going to a nearby city. He doesn’t want me to leave.
He’s going to learn one way or another, that isn’t his choice to make.