Page 59 of The Chain

KNOCK.

Rachel creeps back up the basement steps again.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

KNOCK.

She tiptoes up the stairs to the second-floor bedroom and looks out the window.

It’s a Newburyport Police officer.

The old lady looking for Elainehadcalled the frickin’ cops.

“Hello?” the policeman says, knocking again.

Rachel holds her breath. If Amelia somehow manages to scream, the cop will certainly hear.

“Anybody home?” the cop says.

He looks through the mail slot and examines the windows. Rachel flinches back behind the curtain. If he’s suspicious, he’ll break the door down. Then what?

If Rachel shoots him, it won’t solve the problem. More cops will come to investigate. And more. And the kidnapping will be compromised, and Kylie will be killed. But if he discovers Amelia, Rachel will be arrested and Kylie will die.

The cop takes a few steps back and looks at the side of the house. If he spots where the window has been recently boarded up—

Rachel flies down the stairs.

Amelia is gurgling in the basement. A terrible choking noise.

She is maybe actually going into cardiac arrest now. Rachel runs through the kitchen, tucking the .45 into the back of her jeans. She has to stop the policeman. If the game is up, Kylie is dead. Simple as that.

Rachel sprints down the back porch and along the sandy path to the front of the house.

“Hello there!” she says from the street.

The cop turns to look at her. She recognizes him. She’s seen him at the ice-cream place in Ipswich a couple of times, and he’d given Marty a ticket once when they parked too close to the hydrant at the farm stand. He’s in his midtwenties. Kenny something.

“Hi,” he says.

“Are you out here ’cause I called you?” she asks.

“Did you call the police?”

“Elaine Appenzeller asked me to keep an eye on the house while she’s in Florida. I saw some kids playing around in here. I told them to scram or I would call the cops. And, well…”

“They didn’t scram?”

“No. They have now, obviously, now that you’re here. I’m sorry, did I do the wrong thing? I mean, they were trespassing. That’s against the law, right?”

“What did these kids look like?”

“Oh, no, we don’t have to make a federal case out of it. They were only about ten. Look, I’m sorry. I was just bluffing when I told them I would call the cops and then they were looking at me the way boys that age do, and I said, ‘I’m pressing the number,’ and I sort of pressed it.”

Kenny smiles. “You did the right thing, ma’am. I don’t know if we could prove aggravated criminal trespass on ten-year-olds, but if you don’t stop them young, the next step is breaking and entering. You’d be surprised how many of these big old empty summer houses get broken into in the off-season.”

“Really?”