Chapter Forty-Three

After Jim left, Daniel dashed upstairs to have a look at the girl. He’d heard nothing from her. Surely by now it’d be over?

On entering the room he thought she was finished. Tucker pushed his way in too, sniffing around the girl. Daniel felt a pang on the dog’s behalf—Tucker had liked her, and she’d been good with him.

Coming closer, though, Daniel could see that she was still breathing, her breaths shallow but faintly visible.

Daniel fought down his impatience. Now that he’d decided to go ahead with this, he wanted it over. Somehow those sleeping pills weren’t doing the job. Despite the amount he’d given her, they weren’t finishing her off.

He could give her a second dose, but he wasn’t sure how to get her to swallow it. Maybe try something else?

His mind flashed to the kitchen, to the sharp knives in the drawer. But he recoiled from that idea. He’d butchered pigs and chickens in his day, but he’d always found the actual killing hard to do.

And anything that left blood would be a problem, would leave traces. If anyone investigated, it would tie him to her.

It had to be a cleaner method.

Use a pillow.

He blinked.

It wouldn’t leave blood. She was asleep, so she wouldn’t struggle. And then it’d be over.

It’d be quicker than the sleeping pills.

But the idea—the image of him pressing down on her while she died—made him queasy.

And he wasn’t in that much of a hurry. The pills were just taking longer than expected. It would still happen.

What if somebody comes here while you’re waiting?

His mouth was dry. He couldn’t risk her being found, now more than ever.

He had Jim’s key; he could move her next door. It would give the pills time to work and give him a breather, time to figure out what to do.

He stood beside the bed, staring down at the girl. As far as he could tell, she was in a stupor, and her breathing was getting shallower. It was just a matter of time now.

But depending how long he had to leave her, it was possible the drugs could wear off instead of finishing her.

He couldn’t risk her getting loose, not now. He was going to have to tie her up. He groaned inwardly; he didn’t have any ropes or straps here—when he packed his tools at the farm to come here, it hadn’t occurred to him he’d need restraints.

Duct tape. He had a roll of that. He headed downstairs and found the toolbox where he’d left it by the back door.

Upstairs again, he taped her ankles together. He considered taping her hands behind her but decided to tape them in front so he could still lie her on her back. No reason to make her too uncomfortable, even though she was out cold.

He gathered her belongings and shoved them in her backpack.

First he should scout out his route. Leaving the girl where she was, he went downstairs and out the back door, making sure he had Jim’s house key in his hand.

He crossed their shared driveway; he’d have to carry her across to Jim’s side door. He couldn’t risk being seen from the street. His truck, parked between the two houses, blocked most of the view, but there was still a gap. He’d have to be fast when he brought her.

He unlocked Jim’s side door. It opened into an entryway with two steps leading up to the main floor. Living room on the left, kitchen on the right.

In the kitchen, a black and white cat raised its head and looked at him. It had been eating from its food bowl beside the counter and didn’t seem either surprised or alarmed to see him. After a moment it bent its head back down and resumed its meal.

Walking through the kitchen, Daniel found a mudroom at the back. It was a small room with two high windows and a door into the backyard. A row of jackets hung on hooks along one wall. He made sure the back door was locked.

He’d bring her in here, where no one would be able to see her.

Returning to the kitchen, he scooped up the cat and moved it, along with its food and water dishes, into the downstairs washroom. He couldn’t have it escaping from the house while he was bringing in the girl.

No time to delay now. Back upstairs in Aunt Ruby’s house, he wrapped the blanket around the girl to mask the contours of her body. If anyone were to catch a glimpse of her, they’d just see an oblong shape. He lifted her, straightening his shoulders against the weight. She was awkward to carry—he had to turn her and edge sideways down the steps to keep her legs from catching on the stair rail.

As he exited the house, the girl in his arms, he thought he heard a car door. He stood still, ready to retreat, but heard nothing further. Glancing toward the street to confirm that nobody was walking by, he hurried across the driveway and in through Jim’s side door, nudging it closed behind him. He maneuvered the girl up the steps and through the kitchen to the mudroom, laying her on the floor under the row of coats.

Should he put something under her, something softer? No, that made no sense. But he reached for one of the jackets, folded it and placed it beneath her head.

He checked to see if the coast was clear before crossing back to his own house. Once inside, he retrieved the girl’s backpack and double-checked to make sure there was nothing of hers left lying around, either upstairs or downstairs. Couldn’t leave any sign there’d been a kid in the house. He took the backpack with him as he returned to Jim’s house and looked in on the girl once more. She hadn’t budged.