“Is it apple juice?”
“Yes,” Rachel says as she hands it to her.
“I hate apple juice. Everybody knows I hate apple juice.” Amelia groans and throws away the apple juice and then she throws the Lego horse she’s playing with. It smashes into half a dozen pieces. “I hate it here and I hate you!” she yells.
“You have to keep your voice down, sweetie,” Rachel says. They had done a good job with the soundproofing but still…
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t, I guess we’ll have to put tape over your mouth to keep you quiet.”
Amelia looks at her in amazement. “How would I breathe?”
“You’d breathe through your nose.”
“Would you really do that?”
“Yes.”
“You’re mean.”
Rachel nods. The little girl is right. She is mean. She’s so mean that she’d been willing to let her die down here.
Rachel takes a burner phone out of her bag. “Would you like to speak to your mom?” she asks.
“Yes!” Amelia says.
Rachel dials Helen Dunleavy’s number.
“Hello?” Helen says. She sounds frazzled, exhausted, afraid.
“Would you like to speak to Amelia?”
“Yes, please.”
She puts the phone on speaker and hands it to the little girl.
“Sweetie, are you there?” Helen asks.
“Mommy, when can I come home?”
“Soon, sweetie, real soon.”
“I don’t like it here. It’s dark and scary. When is Daddy coming for me? I don’t feel well. I’m really bored.”
“Soon, sweetie. He’ll come soon.”
“Am I going to have to miss much school?”
“I think so. I don’t know.”
“I hate this chain on my hand. I hate it!”
“I know.”
“Say goodbye to your mommy,” Rachel says, reaching for the phone.
“I have to go now,” Amelia says.