All Good People Here(81)

“Why don’t we have an early night, okay?” she said. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed.”

She hated treating him like a child and knew he hated it too, but he seemed too wrung out to care. He simply straightened, nodded, and wiped his nose with the back of his wrist like a little kid. Then she walked him to his bedroom and waited outside as he brushed his teeth and took a shower. She had the urge to tuck him into bed, but stood by the door instead as he slipped beneath the covers. She waited till he got settled to turn off the light, and as she was closing his bedroom door, she could already hear his breathing lengthen with sleep.

She clicked the door shut behind her, then strode to the front door, outside, and all the way to the curb. The moment she felt there was enough space between her and her uncle’s house, she let go—all the resolve and strength that had gotten her through the last half hour finally crumbled.

She contracted, as if she’d been kicked in the gut, and buried her face in her trembling hands. She’d held back her tears for so long. She hadn’t cried that first day when Luke looked at her and saw someone else. She hadn’t cried when she’d gotten fired or when she received either of those threatening notes. She hadn’t cried when she’d seen her uncle in that photo at January’s show. But now, all those accumulated tears poured out of her. Her breath started coming in jerky, gasping gulps.

Vaguely, through the sound of her own sobs, Margot heard the hum of a car’s engine off in the distance. After a moment, she realized it was getting louder. She didn’t want anyone to see her like this—even in the blackness of night, Wakarusa was so small that whoever was driving by would no doubt recognize her—so she turned her back to the road and wiped the tears from her eyes. She was so preoccupied, so upset, she hardly realized when the car came to a stop only feet away, hardly heard the sound of a car door opening.

Suddenly there was someone behind her, a hand clapped over her mouth, an arm flung around her front, and then Margot’s world was spinning—she was being yanked, twisted over the curb. She tried to break free, but her arms were pinned to her sides. She tried to run, but she couldn’t find purchase on the ground beneath her, her feet scrabbling blindly. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t even breathe. And then she was being dragged across the pavement and thrown into the back of a car.





TWENTY-NINE


    Margot, 2019


Margot tumbled face-first into the bucket seat of an SUV, one of the armrests jamming painfully into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. The door slammed behind her and she spun around to open it, but when she yanked on the handle, it clicked futilely. Her eyes darted around for the unlock button, but to her horror, there was none. She lunged to the other side of the car, but that door was locked too. And then, her kidnapper, in a navy hoodie, was opening the driver’s-side door. In a flash, he was behind the steering wheel and already twisting the key in the ignition.

“What the fu—?” Margot shouted, but her last word was cut off as the car lurched forward and she was slammed against the back of the driver’s seat. She was momentarily disoriented, but recovered quickly and began clambering over the front console. She didn’t have a plan other than simply to claw at whatever her hands landed on—her kidnapper’s arms, shoulders, face—anything to prevent him from taking her wherever they were headed now.

But before she could reach anything, the man threw out an elbow, connecting with Margot’s mouth. Her head snapped back and pain seared through her face. “Motherfucker!” she shouted, clapping a hand over her mouth. On her tongue was the taste of blood. Her lip throbbed.

“Sorry,” her kidnapper said, and that’s when Margot realized that he was not in fact a he. Her kidnapper was a woman.

The woman made a sudden turn of the steering wheel and Margot was thrown to the right. She tumbled onto the other side of the car, darting out her hands to soften the fall. As she did, she caught sight of the woman’s profile, and to her complete lack of surprise, Margot recognized her as the auburn-haired woman she’d first seen outside Shorty’s, a few days and a lifetime ago.

“It’s you,” she said, and her bleeding lip stung from the movement.

“Yes. Now calm down.”

Margot’s eyes bulged as she climbed onto the bucket seat behind her. “You’ve stalked me, you’ve locked me into a speeding car, you just elbowed me in the face, and now you’re telling me to fucking calm down?”

“Just wait,” the woman snapped. “Give me one more minute and I promise I’ll answer all your questions.”

Margot frowned. This woman was planning on talking? Or was that just a ploy so Margot wouldn’t attack her again? Margot’s gaze flitted around the car, her mind racing. She could try to overpower the woman again, but just as the idea flitted into her mind, Margot realized how little damage had been done to her. The woman hadn’t chloroformed her or bound her wrists or knocked her out. She hadn’t even blindfolded her. For a kidnapper, she was a pretty nonthreatening one.

Before Margot could make sense of this or decide what to do, the woman spun the steering wheel and the paved road turned to dirt, rocks crunching loudly beneath the tires. Margot shot a glance out the window and saw that the road they’d turned down separated a cornfield on one side from a little patch of woods on the other. The only light was that from the stars and moon. After a moment, the car slowed, then stopped. The woman pressed a button on her armrest and all the four doors clicked loudly. She turned to face Margot.