The Quarry Girls(80)

If he returned before she’d removed the door, he would not catch her sleeping again.

In fact, this next time would be the last time she’d ever have to see his living face again, because if he got between her and freedom, she was going to drive that railroad spike deep into his skull. He’d never see it coming. She’d hug the wall to the right of the door and leap on him, plunging those five inches of steel into his stupid, evil brain.

She was sweating away at that final hinge when she heard movement overhead.

It was only a matter of time until he appeared.

Let’s do this, Spike.





CHAPTER 50


I slipped out of our basement and closed the door quietly behind me. Then I flicked on my flashlight and ran straight to the haunted end of the tunnels, through the cool liquid black. I unlocked Sheriff Nillson’s basement door and charged in.

“Junie!” I cried.

It was Ed she’d gone to, I felt in my belly it was Ed, but I had to be sure.

If Jerome Nillson was home, and I didn’t think he was, Junie’d still have had time to yell out for me before he could stop her. But there was no answer. Nillson’s basement was clean. Not just tidy. Cleared of evidence. I ran to the utility closet and yanked open the door. Only the furnace, the water heater, and the box of Christmas decorations remained. I tore up his stairs and whipped open every door on the main floor, then I ran to the top floor and did the same.

The house was empty. Junie was not here.

I hurried back to the main floor so fast that my body got ahead of my legs. I tumbled down the last few steps, landing hard on my right shoulder, the pills rattling in their bottle when my purse hit the floor. I jumped to my feet, rubbing at the sore spot. I ran through the front door without closing it behind me and kept running until I reached my house, the air hot and raw in my lungs.

I was grateful I’d left my bike perched by the back door. I didn’t have to step onto the porch, in Agent Gulliver Ryan’s sight line, to take it. I leaped onto my banana seat and raced to the quarries.

I would find Junie at the cabin. I would save her.

I had to.





BETH


The single set of footsteps—his, she knew that much for sure—was joined by others. Beth counted at least four different treads, one of them belonging to a female with a voice so high that she must have been a kid.

Beth was tired of waiting. Crouching, gripping the spike, wiping her hand on her filthy skirt when it grew sweaty, stretching her legs, crouching again. It was time to join the party, but first she had to free the last hinge. It was giving her more trouble than she’d expected.

The kerosene lantern flickered at her feet. She’d been conserving the fuel. Only minutes of light remained. She could remove that last hinge pin in the dark, but it’d be clumsy work. She needed a more efficient plan.

She glanced up at the two hinge pins she’d removed and then rested back in their slots in case he returned before she freed the third.

Of course.

Rather than go at the final pin with only the spike, she’d use one of the loose pins as a tool, turning the spike into a hammer and the pin into leverage. She yanked out the top pin, the loosest, and jammed it below the final pin’s ball. She hammered once, testing it. The clanging echoed. Metal on metal was so loud. She considered timing it so the clang matched the heaviest treads overhead, but then those steps paused.

A door creaked open, a haunting sound, the one that had preceded his appearance the first couple times, maybe every time.

He was coming.

She blew out the kerosene lamp and stepped to the wall to the right of the door, light-headed from hunger and the quick movement. His singular footsteps clicked down what she’d come to envision as root cellar stairs, and then there was a new sound, at least new in this order—the creaking door closing after him. Why was he closing it this time? For the first time, she thought of it as a trapdoor in the ceiling overhead.

And then, the soft tremors on her level as he made his way to the dungeon door. She wondered if she would always hear his quiet footsteps.

Like Pavlov’s dog and the bell, if that sound would forever wind her tight.

She hoped so. It’d mean she’d survived.





CHAPTER 51


The cabin by Quarry Eleven was lit up, two cars out front, neither of them Ed’s blue Chevelle, but he wouldn’t be driving that anymore, would he? I’d tried to formulate a plan on the feverish bike ride over, but I couldn’t focus past the images of Junie in Ed’s grip, or worse, Junie’s corpse being dragged out of the quarry, staring at me with empty, puddly eyes.

A sob escaped my mouth.

I braked, dropped my bike, and stumbled through the cabin’s front door.

The main room was almost exactly as it had been when Ant brought me here, except the couch had been pushed against the far wall, and the large, oily rug in the center of the room was piled to the side, revealing a trapdoor.

Ant was perched on a chair near the bedroom where he’d gotten me to take off my shirt.

Ricky was leaning against the refrigerator in the kitchen section, toothpick in his mouth.

And next to Ricky?

Next to Ricky stood my beautiful, clever little sister, whole, healthy, and so relieved to see me that tears flooded her eyes. I wouldn’t have believed the scene if I wasn’t looking at it. Ricky and Ant, part of this horror show. Pantown boys, preying on their own, led by Ed Godo.