All the Little Lights(123)

Elliott pulled his phone from his back pocket and dialed the numbers.

I walked around Mrs. Mason’s chair slowly, sure to maintain plenty of distance between Duke and me. Sweat dripped from his hairline as his eyes danced between Elliott speaking quietly to the emergency operator and me circling Mrs. Mason’s chair. He was breathing hard, tired, and slow. By the purple half moons under his eyes, I decided he hadn’t slept, and it would be easy to confuse him, outmaneuver him if necessary.

Keeping my eyes on Duke, I leaned down to untie Mrs. Mason’s bloody wrists and then reached for her ankles, pulling on the twine. Her body was trembling from the cold. Even if she wasn’t already suffering from hypothermia, the blood loss was enough to be dangerous.

Duke took a quick step forward, but so did Elliott, drawing his attention.

“Don’t,” I warned Duke. “She’s freezing, and she’s lost a lot of blood. I’m taking her to a doctor. Did you call?” I asked Elliott.

He nodded, pointing with his free hand to the phone at his ear. “The mansion on Juniper. I’m not sure of the address. The Calhouns’. Please hurry.” Elliott hung up without warning, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

After struggling with the knot, I finally freed Mrs. Mason’s ankles. She fell to the floor and crawled to Elliott. He helped her to her feet.

“Catherine, come on,” she said, shivering and struggling to see. She reached out for me, her entire body shuddering with fear. “Come . . . c’mon.”

“Elliott, she needs a doctor,” I said. “Take her.”

“I’m not leaving,” Elliott said, his voice breaking.

Mrs. Mason pushed Elliott to the side and limped one step forward, standing tall in defiance of Duke. “Come with us, Catherine. Right now.”

I took off Elliott’s hoodie and my boots.

“What are you doing?” Duke barked.

I held my finger to my mouth and tossed them all to Elliott. Duke took another step, and I stood between them. “No,” I said firmly, the way Dad use to speak to our dog.

Elliott gave Mrs. Mason the sweatshirt and my boots, leaning down to help her slide her bloody bare feet inside each one. He stood when she swayed, keeping her on her feet.

“Catherine,” she began, holding the hoodie to her chest.

“Put it on,” I commanded.

She did as I asked and then reached for me again. “Catherine, please.”

“Shut up!” Duke barked.

“I told you not to speak!” I screamed, my body shaking with anger.

Duke dropped the twine, took two steps, and raised the bat with both hands. I turned and closed my eyes, waiting for the blow, but nothing happened.

My eyes popped open, and I stood upright, seeing that Elliott was holding Duke’s wrist, glowering at my assailant. Elliott’s voice was low and menacing. “Don’t you touch her.”





Chapter Thirty-Six

Elliott

Mavis’s eyes softened as she looked at my fingers curled tightly around her squishy wrist. She tried to swing the bat at me, but I caught it, ripping it from her fingers. Seconds before, she had been stronger, more like my uncle John.

“Put it down!” I growled.

Mavis pulled her wrist from my grip, holding the hand I’d restrained to her chest.

“How dare you. Get out! Get out of my home!” Mavis said, taking a few steps back.

Catherine held out her hands as if she were trying to calm a wild animal. “Mama? It’s okay.”

Mavis sat on her haunches in the corner of the room, grabbing her knees, rocking and whimpering.

Catherine knelt in front of her mother and swept Mavis’s tightly wound curls from her face. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I wanna go to bed,” Mavis said in a child’s voice.

“Shhh,” Catherine said. “I’ll take you to bed. It’s okay.”

“Oh my God,” Mrs. Mason whispered from behind me. “How many are there?”

“How many of what?” I asked, feeling more confused by the second.

“Seven,” Catherine said, helping Mavis to her feet. “Mrs. Mason, this is . . . this is Poppy. She’s Duke’s daughter, and she’s five.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Mavis said, wiping her cheek. “He just gets mad sometimes, but he doesn’t mean it.”

“Hi, Poppy,” Mrs. Mason said, attempting to smile while she hugged her middle. My sweatshirt swallowed her, and even with the added layer and the boots, she still shivered. Her face was paling by the minute. “Oh.” She leaned against me, and I held her against my side. “I’m dizzy . . . and nauseous. I think I’m going into shock.”

“You’re not looking so good,” I said.

Mavis began brushing off her dirty shirt.

“My goodness,” Catherine’s mom said in a different voice, “I have been doing laundry all day, and would you look at me.” She smiled at us, embarrassed. “I’m a fright.” She looked to Catherine. “I told that man not to. I begged him. Duke doesn’t listen. Doesn’t listen at all.”

“It’s okay, Althea,” Catherine said.

What I was seeing didn’t make sense. It was as if Catherine and her mom were playing a prank, with Mavis speaking in different voices and Catherine acting like it was normal was real. I watched it all in disbelief.