Bon Jovi was looking past Charlotte, down the hallway. She could hear her mother’s slow footsteps. Gamma must have seen him when she came out of the bathroom. She knew something was wrong, that Charlotte wasn’t in the kitchen on her own.
“Hey.” Black Shirt snapped his fingers for Charlotte’s attention. “Where’s your fucking daddy?”
Charlotte shook her head. Why would they want Rusty?
Black Shirt asked, “Who else is in the house?”
She said, “My sister’s in—”
Suddenly, Gamma’s hand was wrapped around Charlotte’s mouth. Her fingers dug into her shoulder. She told the men, “There’s fifty dollars in my purse and another two hundred in a Mason jar in the barn.”
“Fuck that,” Black Shirt said. “Call your other daughter in here. Don’t try any shit.”
“No.” Bon Jovi seemed nervous. “They were supposed to be at track practice, man. Let’s just—”
Charlotte was violently jerked out of Gamma’s arms. Black Shirt’s hand gripped her neck, his fingers like clamps. The back of her head was pinned to his chest. She felt his fingers cinching around her esophagus, pulling it like a handle.
He told Gamma, “Call her, bitch.”
“Sa—” Gamma was so scared that she could hardly raise her voice. “Samantha?”
They listened. They waited.
Bon Jovi said, “Forget it, man. He’s not here. Let’s do like she said and take the money and go.”
“Grow some balls, you fucking pussy.” Black Shirt tightened his grip on Charlotte’s throat. The pain burned like fire. She couldn’t breathe. She went up on her toes. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, but he was too strong.
He told Gamma, “Get her in here before I—”
“Samantha!” Gamma’s tone was sharp. “Please ensure the faucet valve is closed and quickly make your way into the kitchen.”
Bon Jovi stepped away from the mouth of the hallway so that Samantha couldn’t see him. He told Black Shirt, “Come on, man. She did what you said. Let her go.”
Slowly, Black Shirt loosened his grip on Charlotte’s neck. She gagged on the rush of air. She tried to go to her mother, but his hand flattened to her chest. He pinned Charlotte tight against his body.
Gamma said, “You don’t have to do this.” She was talking to Bon Jovi. “We don’t know who you are. We don’t know your names. You can leave now and we won’t tell anyone.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Black Shirt shifted back and forth. “I’m not stupid enough to believe a God damn thing any of you say.”
“You can’t—” Gamma coughed into her hand. “Please. Let my daughters go and I’ll—” she coughed again. “You can take me to the bank. Keep the car. I’ll give you every penny we have.”
“I’m’a take whatever I want.” Black Shirt’s hand slid down Charlotte’s chest. He pressed hard against her sternum, rubbed into her back. His private parts poked her. She felt a sudden sickness. Her bladder wanted to release. Her face turned hot.
“Stop it.” Bon Jovi grabbed Charlotte’s arm. He pulled, then pulled harder, and finally, he managed to wrench her away.
“Baby.” Gamma enveloped Charlotte, throwing her arms tight around her shoulders, kissing her head, then her ear. She whispered, “Run if you—”
Without warning, Gamma let go, almost pushing Charlotte away. She took two steps back until she was against the kitchen counter. Her hands were in the air.
Black Shirt had the shotgun pointed at her chest.
“Please.” Gamma’s lips trembled. “Please. I beg you,” her voice was low, like it was just her and Black Shirt in the room. “You can do anything you want to me, but don’t hurt my baby.”
“Don’t worry.” Black Shirt whispered, too. “It only hurts the first couple’a dozen times.”
Charlotte started to shake.
She knew what he meant. The dark look in his eyes. His tongue darting out between his wet lips. The way his thing had pressed into her back.
Her knees stopped working.
She stumbled back into the chair. Sweat covered her face. More sweat poured down her back. She looked at her hands, but they weren’t like her normal hands. The bones were vibrating inside as if a tuning fork had been struck against her chest.
Gamma said, “It’s okay.”
Black Shirt said, “No it ain’t.”
They weren’t talking to each other anymore. Samantha was standing in the doorway, frozen like a frightened rabbit.
Black Shirt asked, “Who else is in the house?”
Gamma shook her head. “Nobody.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Charlotte’s hearing became muffled. She heard her father’s name, saw the angry look in Gamma’s eyes.
Rusty. They were looking for Rusty.
Charlotte began to rock, unable to stop the back and forth movement as she instinctively tried to calm herself. This wasn’t a movie. There were two men inside the house. They had guns. They didn’t want money. They had come for Rusty, but now that they knew Rusty wasn’t here, Black Shirt had decided he wanted something else. Charlotte knew what that something else was. She had read about it in Lenore’s book. And Gamma was only here because Charlotte had called her and Samantha was only here because Charlotte had told the men that her sister was in the house.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte whispered. She couldn’t hold her bladder anymore. She felt the warm liquid slide down her leg. She closed her eyes. She rocked back and forth. “I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry-I’m-sorry.”
Samantha squeezed Charlotte’s hand so hard she could feel the bones move.
Charlotte was going to throw up. Her stomach kept clenching, rolling like she was trapped on a boat in the pitching sea. She squeezed her eyes closed. She thought about running. The soles of her shoes slapping the ground. Her legs burning. Her chest aching for air. Samantha was beside her, ponytail flapping in the wind, smiling, telling Charlotte what to do.
Breathe through it. Slow and steady. Wait for the pain to pass.
“I said shut the fuck up!” Black Shirt screamed.
Charlotte lifted her head, but it was like she was moving through a thick oil.
There was an explosion, then a blast of hot liquid slashed at her face and neck so hard that she fell against Samantha at the table.
Charlotte started screaming before she knew why.
Blood was everywhere, like a hose had been turned on. It was warm and viscous and it covered her face, her hands, her entire body.
“Shut up!” Black Shirt slapped Charlotte across the face.
Samantha grabbed her. She was sobbing, shaking, screaming.
“Gamma,” Samantha whispered.
Charlie clung to her sister. She turned her head. She made herself look at her mother, because she wanted to make sure she never forgot what these fuckers had done.
Bright white bone. Pieces of heart and lung. Cords of tendon and arteries and veins and life spilled out of her gaping wounds.
Bon Jovi yelled, “Jesus Christ, Zach!”
Charlie kept herself still, unresponsive. She was never going to give herself away ever again.
Zachariah Culpepper.
She had read his case files. Rusty had represented him at least four times. Gamma had said just last night that if Zach Culpepper paid his bills, the family wouldn’t have to live at the farmhouse.
“Fuck!” Zach was staring at Samantha. She had read the files, too. “Fuck!”
“Mama …” Charlie said, trying to distract them, to convince Zach that she didn’t know. “Mama, Mama, Mama …”
“It’s all right.” Samantha tried to soothe.
“It ain’t all right.” Zach threw his mask on the floor. He had raccoon eyes from Gamma’s blood. He looked like his mugshot, but uglier. “God dammit! What’d you have to use my name for, boy?”
“I d-didn’t—” Bon Jovi stammered. “I’m sorry.”
“We won’t tell.” Samantha was looking down at the floor
like it wasn’t too late. “We won’t say anything. I promise.”
“Girl, I just blew your mama to bits. You really think you’re walking out of here alive?”
“No,” Bon Jovi said. “That’s not what we came for.”
“I came here to erase some bills, boy,” Zach said. “Now I’m thinking it’s me that Rusty Quinn’s gotta pay.”
“No,” Bon Jovi repeated. “I told you—”
Zach shut him up by jamming the shotgun into his face. “You ain’t seein’ the big picture here. We gotta get outta town, and that takes a hell of a lot of money. Everybody knows Rusty Quinn keeps cash in his house.”
“The house burned down,” Samantha said. “Everything burned down.”
“Fuck!” Zach screamed. “Fuck!” He pushed Bon Jovi into the hallway. He kept the shotgun pointed at Samantha’s head, his finger on the trigger.
“No!” Charlie pulled her sister down to the floor, away from the shotgun. She felt grit on her knees. Shattered bone riddled the floor. She looked at Gamma. She took her waxy, white hand. The heat had already left her body. She whispered, “Don’t be dead, Mama. Please. I love you. I love you so much.”
She heard Zach say, “Why you actin’ like you don’t know how this is gonna end?”
Sam tugged at Charlie’s arm. “Charlie, get up.”
Zach said, “We ain’t leaving this place without you getting some blood on your hands, too.”
Sam repeated, “Charlie, get up.”
“I can’t.” She was trying to hear what Bon Jovi was saying. “I can’t let—”
Samantha practically picked her up and put her back in the chair. “Run when you can,” she whispered to Charlie, the same thing Gamma had tried to tell her. “Don’t look back. Just run.”
“What’re you two saying?” Zach walked back to the table. His boots crunched something on the floor. He pressed the shotgun to Sam’s forehead. Charlie could see pieces of Gamma stuck to the barrel.
He asked Sam, “What did you tell her to do? Make a run for it? Try to get away?”
Charlie made a noise in her throat, trying to divert his attention.
Zach kept the shotgun on Sam, but he smiled at Charlie, showing a row of crooked, stained teeth. “What’d she tell you to do, baby doll?”
Charlie tried not to think about the way his voice changed when he talked to her.
“Come on, honey.” Zach stared at her chest. He licked his lips again. “Ain’t we gonna be friends?”
“S-stop,” Sam said. The shotgun was pressed so hard into her forehead that a trickle of blood seeped out. “Leave her alone.”
“Was I talking to you, bitch?” Zach leaned into the shotgun. Sam’s head tilted back from the pressure. “Was I?”
Sam’s jaw tightened. Her fists clenched. It was like watching a pot finally come to boil, except it was rage bubbling up inside of her. She shouted, “You leave us alone, Zachariah Culpepper.”
Zach shifted his weight back on his heels, startled by her defiance.
Sam said, “I know exactly who you are, you fucking pervert.”
He gripped the shotgun in his hands. His lip curled. “I’m gonna peel off your eyelids so you can watch me slice out your sister’s cherry with my knife.”
They glared at each other. Sam wasn’t going to back down. Charlie had seen her like this before, that look she got in her eyes when she wasn’t going to listen to anybody. Except this wasn’t Rusty, or the mean girls at school. This was a man with a shotgun, with a temper, who had almost beaten another man to death last year.
Charlie had seen the photos in Rusty’s files. She had read the police report. Zachariah had fractured the guy’s skull with his bare hands.
A whimper came out of Charlie’s mouth.
“Zach,” Bon Jovi said. “Come on, man.”
Charlie waited for Sam to look away, but she didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t.
Bon Jovi said, “We had a deal, all right?”
Zach didn’t move. None of them moved.
“We had a deal,” Bon Jovi repeated.
“Sure.” Zach tossed the shotgun to Bon Jovi. “A man’s only as good as his word.”
He acted like he was going to walk away, but his hand moved fast, like a rattlesnake striking. He grabbed Sam’s face and pushed her so hard back into the sink that her head clanged against the cast iron.
“No!” Charlie screamed.
“You think I’m a pervert now?” Zach was so close to Sam that his spit globbed onto her face. “You got something else to say about me?”
Sam’s mouth opened, but she couldn’t scream. She grabbed at his arm with her hands, scratching, clawing, but Zach’s fingernails were digging into her eyeballs. Blood cried down like tears. Sam’s feet kicked out. She gasped for air.
“Stop it!” Charlie jumped on Zach’s back, punching him with her fists. “Stop!”
He threw her across the room. Charlie’s head smacked into the wall like a clattering bell. Her vision doubled, but then it sharpened on Sam. Zach had left her on the floor. Blood streamed down her cheeks, pooled into the collar of her shirt.
“Sammy!” Charlie cried. She tried to look at Sam’s eyes, to see the damage he had done. “Sam? Look at me. Can you see? Look at me, please!”
Carefully, Sam tried to open her eyelids. They were torn like pieces of wet paper.
Zach said, “What the fuck is this?”
The bathroom faucet hammer. He picked it up off the floor. He winked at Charlie. “Wonder what I can do with this?”
“Enough!” Bon Jovi snatched away the hammer and threw it down the hallway.
Zach shrugged. “Just having a little fun, brother.”
“Both of you stand up,” Bon Jovi said. “Let’s get this over with.”
Charlie didn’t move. Sam blinked away blood.
“Help her up,” Bon Jovi told Zach. “You promised, man. Don’t make this worse than it has to be.”
Zach yanked Sam up so hard that her shoulder made a popping sound. She bumped against the table. Zach pushed her toward the door. She bumped into a chair. Charlie grabbed her hand to keep her from falling.
Bon Jovi opened the door. “Go.”
Charlie went first, shuffling sideways to help Sam down the stairs. Sam had her other hand out in front of her like she was blind. Charlie saw their shoes and socks. If they could put them on, they could run. But only if Sam could see where to go.
“Can you see?” Charlie asked her. “Sam, can you see?”
“Yes,” Sam said, but that had to be a lie. She couldn’t even open her eyelids all the way.
“This way,” Bon Jovi indicated the field behind the HP. The soil was freshly planted. They weren’t supposed to walk on it, but Charlie walked where she was told, guiding Sam behind her, helping her navigate the deep furrows.
Charlie asked Bon Jovi, “Where are we going?”
Zach dug the shotgun into Sam’s back. “Keep walking.”
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said to Bon Jovi. “Why are you doing this?”
He shook his head.
Charlie asked, “What did we do to you, mister? We’re just kids. We don’t deserve this.”
“Shut up,” Zach warned. “Both of you shut the fuck up.”
Sam squeezed Charlie’s hand even tighter than before. She had her head up, like she was a dog trying to get a scent. Instinctively, Charlie knew what her sister was doing. Two days ago, Gamma had shown them a topographical map of the area. Sam was trying to remember the landmarks, to get her bearings.
Charlie tried to, too.
The neighbor’s acreage went past the horizon, but the ground was completely flat that way. Even if Charlie managed to zigzag as she ran, Sam would end up tripping and falling. Trees bordered the far right side of the property. If she could lead Sam that way, they might be able to find a place to hide. There was a creek on the other side of the forest that went underneath the weather tower. Beyond that was a paved road, but people didn’t use it.
There was an abandoned barn half a mile north. A second farm was two miles east. That would be the best bet. If she could get Sam to the second farm, they could call Rusty and he would save them.
Zach said, “What’s that?”
Charlie looked back at the farmhouse. She saw headlights, two floating dots in the distance. Not Lenore’s van. “It’s a car.”
“Shit, they’re gonna make my truck in two seconds.” Zach jammed the shotgun into Samantha’s back, using it like a rudder to steer her. “Y’all keep moving or I’ll shoot you right here.”
Right here.
Charlie stiffened at the words. She prayed that Sam hadn’t heard them, that she didn’t get their meaning.
“There’s another way out of this.” Sam’s head was turned toward Bon Jovi, even though she couldn’t see him.
Zach snorted.
Sam said, “I’ll do whatever you want.” She cleared her throat. “Anything.”
“Shit,” Zach said. “You don’t think I’m gonna take what I want anyways, you stupid bitch?”
Charlie swallowed back the taste of bile. She saw a clearing up ahead. She could run with Sam there, find a place to hide.
Sam said, “We won’t tell them it was you. We’ll say you had your masks on the entire time and—”
“With my truck in the driveway and your mama dead in the house?” Zach snorted again. “Y’all Quinns think you’re so fucking smart, can talk your way outta anything.”
Charlie didn’t know any places to hide in the woods. She’d been stuck unpacking boxes since they moved, no time for exploring. Charlie and Sam’s best bet was to run back to the HP where the policeman was. Charlie could lead Sam across the field. Her sister would have to trust her, the same way she kept saying Charlie should trust her with the blind pass. Sam was a fast runner, faster than Charlie. As long as she didn’t stumble—
“Listen to me,” Sam said. “You’ve got to leave town anyway. There’s no reason to kill us, too.” She turned toward Bon Jovi. “Please, just think about it. All you have to do is tie us up. Leave us somewhere they won’t find us. You’re going to have to leave town either way. You don’t want more blood on your hands.”