Page 58 of The Chain

“Uhh,” Amelia moans.

Heart in mouth, Rachel slithers down the basement stairs, almost slipping and breaking her goddamn neck. She runs to Amelia and puts her finger to her lips.

“Shhh,” she hisses.

“Elaine, are you in there or not?” the voice at the front door demands. “I thought I saw you moving around!”

Amelia moans louder and Rachel has no choice but to put her hand over the little girl’s mouth. Amelia can’t breathe properly through her nose. She begins thrashing against Rachel’s grip but she’s far too weak to put up any kind of resistance.

“Shhh,” Rachel whispers. “Take it easy. It’s OK, it’s OK.”

She holds her tight.

No more noise from upstairs.

Ten seconds go by.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

Thirty.

“I guess nobody’s home,” the voice outside says.

Rachel hears the woman walk down the porch steps, and a moment later she hears the heavy front gate swing closed. Rachel takes her hand away from Amelia’s mouth and the little girl gasps for air.

Rachel runs upstairs to the first-floor window. The busybody is an elderly lady in galoshes and a purple raincoat. “Wow,” Rachel says to herself.

Utterly exhausted, she sits on the floor and waits for the cops to show up.

When they don’t come, she goes back downstairs to Amelia.

She seems to be doing a little better. Or is that just wishful thinking?

She phones Pete but he doesn’t answer.

She waits two minutes and calls again. No answer.

Where is he? What the hell is he doing?

Were those drugs? Was he high? She knows he’s been in and out of the VA clinic in Worcester for the past year but she hasn’t asked what the problem is. Pete’s never been one to share and she didn’t want to push it.

Where is he?

Has he run out on them?

Amelia is lying on her side now, coughing.

Rachel tucks her in the sleeping bag and puts her arms around her the way a mother would. She strokes her forehead and rocks her.

“It’s going to be OK, baby,” she says gently. “Sweetie, I promise, in a couple of hours, you’ll feel fine.”

Rachel holds her and talks to her and she feels like the biggest dirtbag fraud in the world. Five minutes crawl by in slow motion. She’d been willing to let her die. Would have let her die. Still will let her die if—

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

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