Page 56 of Long Pig
“He said he would hurt Dale and the dogs.”
“You believed a deputy would do something like that?”
Her eyes stared daggers. “This particular deputy, yes.”
For several long minutes, he simply stared. She didn’t move so much as a muscle. Defiance was back in her eyes.
“The old man you’re living with was a deputy. He can take care of himself.”
“Dale has heart problems. I do the cooking and cleaning. He pokes around the property, but he’s much slower than he was a year ago.” Her body visibly trembled. “He hasn’t been the same since Lance Hogg shot him.”
Butch had forgotten Lance Hogg, and something inside him softened, which was strange in itself. He needed time to think. “My friends call me Butch.”
He walked out, turning off the light behind him. If Willow was lying, she was very good at it. Meat in the smokehouse needed his attention. He thought best while processing.
Sitting alone in the dark would bring her closer to him in the long run.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Noises in the Dark
Willow
She slept little throughout the night. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she still couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, but she noticed a small orange dot of light on the ceiling. An eerie sense ran across her skin. The creep watched her.
Her thoughts jumped from one to another. They would find her truck alongside Wallard’s. She had worked out in her mind that Larry used the shovel to hide the blood. He took away the evidence of his crime.
Would Dale believe she ran away with the deputy?
No, he wouldn’t, even if the evidence pointed that way. Dale knew she wouldn’t go willingly. He wouldn’t stop looking for her. Her mind switched gears again as a wave of horror also intruded. Soft pops and creaks came from Wallard’s body. At first, she thought rats were eating him, and her horror intensified. She eventually reasoned out that the body was cooling, and she clung to that thought. It was better than rats.
How much time did she have before she was hanging from hooks like the deputy? Larry said he wouldn’t kill her, but she didn’t believe him. She knew too much. He couldn’t leave her alive. When would he rape her? The waiting made it all worse, but she had a feeling Larry knew this and used it.
The documentary about the girl taken from her room while she slept popped into her head. When Lance Hogg kidnapped her, she had kept him talking and planned the entire time. Things were different now. No one knew where she was or even that she was on the ranch. The only person who could help was sitting with a chain on her leg. Getting Larry to take it off would be the first step.
If she wanted to live, he had to trust her. She would build that trust inch by inch. Tell him what he wanted to hear. Each emotion would be calculated because he thrived off fear. Eventually, he would believe she admired him, especially for killing the deputy. The plan was desperately inadequate, but it was all she had. To make it work, she had to know what he wanted. In the quiet, she found her voice and whispered softy into the dark,think smart. She refused to accept that she might not have time on her side.
In the morning, or what felt like morning, the light snapped on, and she covered her eyes to shield them. When she removed her hand, she glimpsed Wallard’s body. His blue-tinged corpse hung still. Even though it was cold in the room, he was beginning to smell, and it made her stomach queasy.
Larry made it difficult to keep her anger in check, especially when he threatened her about eating. But deducing why Wallard’s body made sounds during the night helped her stay calm, and she didn’t scream in horror when the sounds were explained. His words repelled her, but she’d spent years in prison, and she was good at keeping her expressions impassive.
Build his trust, she reminded herself silently.
Fighting nausea, she ate the oatmeal and drank the coffee while Larry studied her intently. His attention fastened on her mouth as she ate and drank. It seemed to be his fetish, and she could use it.
After she finished eating, he questioned her about Deputy Wallard. Larry seemed almost jealous and that was something else she could use. When he saw Wallard watching her, who was Larry stalking? She had a feeling it was her. It would explain the times she was hiking and felt like she was being watched.
Part of the plan was to convince Larry that Dale wasn’t a threat. He gave her the perfect opportunity, and she hoped it worked. While he asked questions, she tried to look around without making it too obvious. Four cement walls with three doors. One led up to the garage, and the other was the closet he pulled the bed and toilet from. The third door was most likely a bathroom. There were no windows, and only the one exit.
The wall implements terrified her. From a large cleaver to a dozen knives in all shapes and sizes, they looked like torture devices. There were also saws either hanging or on a shelf near the body. What horrors happened in this room?
When Butch finally left, she took a deep breath after the light went out.My friends call me Butch. The name fit. The deputy’s body proved it.
She had no idea how much time passed. She tried not to think about Wallard. He was dead, and she was alive. When nothing new came to mind for her plan, she thought about her life with Dale. She refused to dwell on her years in prison.
She wished her grandmother had seen her happy, but she’d given Dale to Willow. He’d proven to her that not all men were bad. He would be incredibly worried by now.
She had the mental and physical tools to survive because Dale had given them to her. She refused to think about death.As long as she was breathing, she had a chance. The dark void eventually lulled her into a restless sleep.